Trophy huntin’

Don’t let a sissy tell you huntin’ ain’t right

Tis the season to end road slaughter.

Instead, we shall begin our harvest of the summer’s unmolested foliage with tools we’ve vastly improved since our ancestors harvested their main source of protein.

I hope that most on this campus understand hunting isn’t merely sport.

But when in whitetail territory, the night before opening day is normally spent dreaming endlessly about 20-inch spreads on 12-point bucks which weigh over 250 pounds.

Bagging doe after doe only makes my stomach excited for venison.

Venison is very lean wild-game protein, free of the hormone pumpage our cattle and chicken are often subjected to in order to bulk up and rest confined in slaughterhouses,
awaiting doom.

While venison is great, rotting meat wouldn’t sit as well on a wall as a trophy rack that oozes accomplishment and has a story behind it.

Unfortunately, no trophy as rare as the one mentioned in this piece will just meander to the front of your blind begging to be shot come the morning of Nov. 15.

The big trophies that have lived through several seasons are too quick to be caught.

There needs to be preparation for the season.

Some men grow beards, some simply focus on how quickly they can dress a deer, others spend hours scouting.

Scouting divides a hunter between primal instinct and casual forest tromping. They quietly stalk the nemesis’ habits, trying to interpret the movement of their trophy as best as

A tip to any hunters: If you haven’t made adaptations to your land yet, or plan to go hunting on public land, try as hard as possible to avoid Axe body wash, any shampoo or any shower in general.

I hope you have the sense to get out by 5 a.m. shower-less and alert.

As a method of disguise, I was taught to place clothing that wreaked of human all around our land during the months leading up to November, just to desensitize a deer’s heightened sense of smell over time and earn an advantage in the hunt.

There’s no better way to trick a deer’s nose.

Then you sit, sometimes in a blind, sometimes in orange with trees to surround. It is quiet. All you are waiting for is the sound of short snorts, grunts and snapping sticks. You can’t react to the sounds you hear.

You must stay disciplined and keep body movement to a minimum, relying on sound and sight alone.

No one tags a big rack by stomping through the woods.

The itching nag of silence and boredom become a feeling you enjoy every minute of until a tall buck walks right into your line of vision with the perfect stance: head-cocked to the side and heart exposed.

Good luck tomorrow, hunters. I hope you continue contributing to and expanding our wildlife conservation through hunting license purchases in Michigan.

Preserve our state’s most important resource and continue creating jobs with your specialized hobby.