My first year hunting, aside from the possible duck hunting excursions over the next two weeks, has come to a close. I’ve made accomplishments, many mistakes, learned some lessons, and of course, wished I could’ve gone more.

To get the shameful business over first, the mistakes I made were mainly in planning. I’ve learned upgrading parts of your bow mid-season is a bad thing. My heart was in the right place when I decided to upgrade my fiber optic sight at the beginning of the fall archery season. What I didn’t take into consideration was the amount of time it would take me to sight in the new pins, which resulted in me breaking the silencer tubes on my rest and also playing the game of: “Is it my sight that’s off? Or is it my rest? Or maybe it’s my form?”.

Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem. But given that I’m a novice archer but a full-fledged tinkerer, hours became days which became weeks wasted on dialing in a bow that was already dialed in to start. When after-work evenings are only a few hours long and grow shorter as the daylight wanes, it was a losing battle until a free weekend could roll in. And free weekends were few and far between at the start off the season, with 3 weddings, a 10-day trip to Peru, and installing a dog fence to take priority.

But there were still days I managed to get out into the field and animals to see. None to shoot though.

Which is not necessarily a bad thing.

Luckily, I have a good friend who would come up from CT at the drop of a hat to go out with me. Although he’s not an expert hunter yet either, he does have a lot more experience than I do but he loves to learn as much as I do. And, to my advantage, likes to pass on knowledge and just be outside. We spent a lot of time swapping tips he’s learned from his own experiences as well tips I’ve just read or heard. Hopefully, I didn’t make him any dumber in the process. Thanks Scoot.

I’ll share one hunting outing that left us both feeling dumber. It was the morning of Thanksgiving and we decided that while he was up visiting his family, that we’re try to go out for some duck. We had gone out several times before, checking out ponds we had found on Google Earth that looked good. No luck there. He had found some new ponds near his house that looked promising so we decided it was worth a shot. With me waking up late, forgetting my call when I was already on my way, and then the promising pond ending up being strung over by high tension power lines, we were a bit defeated. Standing out there in the cold, holding my brand new 28” barrel Weatherby pump, we decided to head back to his house and grab our bows to look for some turkey. His father had been telling him about a group of Toms that cross through his yard every morning, the same group I’ve witnessed a few times when I drive by his house on my morning work commute.

As we pulled up the road and to his driveway, what do we see? A group of 6 big Tom’s crossing the road INTO his driveway. Yes, we actually had to wait while they crossed and wander into his front yard. We sat there dumbfounded. Although my bow was in the other car, garaunteeing there was no shot capable, we both knew we wouldn’t take one even if we could. He knew that I didn’t want my first turkey to be taken standing in a driveway at point blank range. So we sat there, trying not to laugh at their obvious low IQ,  while we called to them with the windows rolled down. Once they passed into the woods behind the house, we scrambled to get our bows and get to somewhere where we could intercept them. We waited in a spot of woods that they had clearly been using, there were sign all over the place. What once were a group of idiot turkeys and a gauranteed wild turkey dinner that evening, ended up outsmarting us. I guess our hubris got the best of us and in our confidence in that spot being THE spot, they got away.

Oh well. It made for a good story the next day.

I think as a beginner hunter, I’m still learning about myself while learning how to hunt. There is still an inner war being waged between my societal conscience and instinctual conscience. Often times, I’m left wondering which was there first? I’m also still terrified about the point in which it becomes a mile-long draw of a bow and a thousand-pound trigger release. I’m still not sure whether not getting the chance this year is for better or for worse. Will I learn more about myself come next year? Or will wintering this internal debate only let it lose the foothold I’ve dug it this fall?

I guess we’ll see in Hunting Year 2.