I was doomed to write about my wild roots

I have been reading and posting on many of the Outdoor Network blogs for over a year now, and I write too much all the time.  I was always thread-jacking, posting multi-paragraph responses, and in general, dominating conversations.  I have enough stories to keep me going for a while, plus the interaction with other "outdoorsy types" is what I crave, so I'm starting this blog up with the hope of attracting some new friends, and continuing a discussion I've found intriguing since I got back into hunting last year. 

I should explain: I had been fishing and hunting since I was a little kid, going out with my Dad on long excursions, where we spent a lot of time in the woods or on the lakes in the Great Lakes Region.  When I eventually moved West, first to Wyoming, then to Utah, and finally to California, I continued this tradition, but less and less, 'til it finally had gone into the memory bank. 

Then, a few years back, I bumped into fishing again, when one of my boy's friends invited us to go fishing with his Uncle Rob.  I went Bluegill fishing with the boys, and immediately all the memories floated back to the surface.  Soon, Rob was my fishing buddy, and we used his boat, until I bumped into an old eyesore parked in a friend's driveway.  My new boat, Jess4DHalibut, became my new money pit, as I dumped bucks into refurbishing, remotoring, and so on.  However, it also became our new fishing platform, where we hauled in lots of bass, trout, catfish, kelp bass, sand bass, halibut (of course), black perch, rockfish, shark, and the occasional ling cod. 

I tried deer hunting, too, going up North with Rob, and spending a week looking around the woods (never saw an ungulate the whole week), sleeping in the woods at night.  I ran over a stick, which popped up and trashed a brake line, and we had to drive around with the handbrake to stop us.  It was an adventure, but it wasn't productive, so eventually, hunting faded.  Fishing took priority, and we got more and more adventurous, fishing at night, in the Pacific off of Long Beach Harbor.  It was quite addictive.  We did this four seasons, and never had a problem. 

Then, come last summer, just after I got out of school for the summer (I teach Special Education in a middle school), Rob and I were fishing at night along the outer harbor area they call "The Wall," and through some dumb stunt, we ended up capsizing the boat.  Both of us survived, but it was touch and go, with us clinging to the hull for half an hour, until we were spotted by a tugboat, and rescued by the lifeguard.  I was half-frozen, but fine.  We were able to recover the boat, which the lifeguard towed back to the harbor, upside down.  We righted it, trailered it, and I haven't had it on the water since.  Whether it's PTSD or just a renewed and healthy respect for the Pacific Ocean, I don't know, and haven't asked my shrink about yet. 

In the meantime, I had gotten interested in going hunting that spring, and had already bought a nice rifle from one of Rob's older uncles.  So in July, I took to reading a lot of the blogs that dealt with hunting, and began to get excited about hunting wild boar in California.  I had talked Rob into gearing up for it, but he had to back out at the last minute.  Getting on the phone, I booked an Emergency Hunt with a guide, Craig, and three hours later was shooting my rifle at a couple of dingers that were set up near the bunkhouse on a 4,400 acre cattle ranch near Paso Robles.

That afternoon, I took my first shots at wild pigs, missing two easy broadsides, and we ate steaks over a grill next to the bunkhouse that night.  The next morning, we went to a ridgetop, and started glassing the valley below.  While we were looking down, we caught something moving out of the corner of our eyes, and there goes a big pig right through the place where we're set-up, maybe 30 yards away.  I emptied my gun at it, then borrowed his and fired one more shot at the receding pig, missing them all.  Talk about Buck Fever, this was bad! 

However, we got in the truck, and went after the pig, finding it side-hilling it up a ridge.   I got out, took a rest, and this time shot while not so excited.  The report stopped time, the pig took one step on a broken leg, then began to roll slowly down the hill.  I looked at Craig, we did a high five, then went to get the pig, which had rolled to the bottom of the ridge facing us, until it was just 50 yards from the truck.  It turned out to be a big sow, almost 200 pounds, and with a very wild look. 

I kept going out with Rob after this, and was really beating up the family car, so I went ahead and got a 4x4 truck.  The transition from city slicker to country boy is almost complete, except for the fact that I've always been a hippie at heart.  My "countryboy" is tempered by a background in education, living on 4 continents in deep connection with 6 countries, and three languages.  I consider myself to be part of the locovore movement, those who seek to connect to the earth, for sustenance, for activity, for kinship with others. 

I guess I'm hooked now, and I get out hunting every chance I get.  This winter was a good one for hunting, because my wife went overseas due to a family emergency, and didn't come back for over 2 months.  I was a bachelor, with a new hobby, and I took full advantage of her absence to go out and develop my skills.  I went after rabbit, quail, chukar, and ducks.  While I didn't score in every area, the outings with people I met in one way or another connected to the blogs I was reading were worth it.  I also found two hunting partners through my place of work, where I had never mentioned my interest before.

So, now you know my motivation to follow this interest, and my background in writing for teaching at school, teaching at an online University, and in the hopes of being published someday.  I will work hard to make this an interesting place to come and browse, like a meadow in the mountains, or on a rocky slope in the high desert.  How often I find topics of interest will of course depend on my own curiosity, but I'm hopeful to explore this world of renewed interest in the natural world, and our links to it, with some folks who find it just as fascinating...and gritty, adrenaline-pumping, wild and crazy fun.  Join me in exploring the wild.