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America’s Frugal Sportsman Series – May 2008 by Hollister DeLong
Thursday, May 29th, 2008

Hey y’all. There is one upside to this ecomony situation…there are a lot of sports and recreation items for sale at some very low prices. In my regular monthly column in Outdoors Magazine (www.outdoorsmagazine.net) I show people how to enjoy the outdoors without spending a lot of money. If you check the classified ads where you live, or check them out online, you will see a ton of stuff being sold cheap.

I have found everything from guns and fishing equipment to RV’s at bargain basement prices. Especially noticeable are for sale ads about anything that uses gas. The rediculously high gas prices are causing a lot of folks to dump their toys. What that means to me is bargain time!

One example was a 24′ cuddy cabin aluminum fishing boat, motor and trailer. This setup should sell for around $11,000 in a normal economy. It’s a 94 model, in real good shape  (according to the photos ). This rig can be towed by a 1/2 ton truck or compact truck fairly easily due to the lower weight of an aluminum boat. But, the owner obviously wants to sell it as he listed it for $7500! We all know that the listed price is usually negotiable as well.

I picked up one of my favorite military rifles, a Mosin Nagant, last week for $95.00. They are fun to dress up and most of them shoot exceptionally well. The 7.62X54R is an excellent caliber, falling between a 308 and 30/06 in ballistics. Also thre is a ton of cheap non-corrosive ammo available to go shooting with. This particular weapon already has had the bolt altered, has a composite stock and also is equipped with a Leepers 3-9X40 scope. The bolt conversion, scope mount and stock are a package that retails for around $90. Depending on where purchased, the scope is in the $50 range and is a decent cheap scope. To get the rifle already equipped with these goodies and pay less than just the add-ons cost qualifies as a deal.

If you take the time to look around, you will find deals on everything. If you are going to be needing something for your outdoors pursuits, start looking now while people are in shock over the ecomomy and gas prices. Once they get used to paying more, they will not be as anxious to sell off their toys.  Check you local ads then go to your computer and enter “classified ads” in your browser. You may be amazed at the choices that come up. Jump in and browse around.

A lot of you will realize that guns can be purchased from an online or out-of-town source by having the weapon sent to an FFL holder in your town, subject to your local and state laws. Most areas allow black powder long weapons to be sent directly to an individual 21 ywaers of age or older. Some jurisdictions look upon a black powder pistol the same as they would any other handgun. New York, where I currently live, does not allow an individual to receive any handgun directly. An FFL holder must handle all handgun transactions and the individual must have a NY state pistol permit to purchase any handgun. Check your local laws to avoid an trouble from the Gestapo where you live.

Have fun with your classified ad browsing and let me know if you score a really good deal!

Blessings,

Hollister DeLong

America’s Frugal Sportsman

Dream Hunt
Tuesday, May 27th, 2008

The Dream Hunt

Submitted by Buckshot52

One of my 4 brothers and I were out riding one evening in July, and spotted some bucks out in a field.This one stood out from the others, as he was very wide. I snuck down in the area the next morning, as it was one of my hunting areas, and I knew it well. Not really expecting to see him, I didn’t  take a camera, big mistake!  I was sneaking down towards a swamp, and  I saw him and another buck heading back to their bedding area. I stepped on a twig, and he heard me and he just froze. He stayed in that spot for about an hour!  He only moved his head to try and find what made the noise. Lucky for me the wind was in my favor. He was an awesome site all in velvet. I tried scoring him while I watched him. I figured he would score around the mid 150’s.  Finally his buddy got tired of waiting, so they moved along the edge of the swamp.  I was so excited to see him. I never really thought  I’d actually get him that November!  When November came I had already had my tree stand set up in another area where I had found a set of sheds  off of and seen a Boone and crocket buck. He had the biggest  track I had ever seen. He was in the 300 pound range, and his rack scored 189  # inches(.I found his sheds). Well, from the first day on, a bunch of  guys came in driving that area, ( which is illegal in Maine) and chased him out 3 days in a row, so I said to heck with it. Obviously I wasn’t the only one who had seen him, but I  had his biggest rack!   He went down hill a little the following year, as I found one of his sheds. So anyway, I decided to go after the big 10 pointer. On November 11th  I  woke to the alarm  from a dream, and believe it or not , I dreamed my hunt, And it happened exactly the way I dreamed it!  I got my gear, and snuck down in  near his bedding area before daylight.,but it was light when I got there.  It was a beautiful calm morning, no wind. I faced the swamp, expecting him to come from there if he came at all. Since I didn’t make any noise getting in there, I got on my knees, and started rattling and grunting right away. Well, I did that about 20 seconds or so, and put my antlers down, picked up my gun, and there he was!  I was facing a scrape, (forgot to tell you that).  He came in on a trot from my left heading for the scrape.  When he got behind a small fir tree, I picked up my gun, and when he stepped out from behind it he seemed to realize something wasn’t right and started to turn. I had it on him then, and fired. He disappeared so fast, I thought he ran down into the swamp. I jumped up to go look, and he was on the ground, he dropped right there in a gully.  I didn’t  even know it was him until I walked up to him and saw his wide rack. I was pretty excited . He is not monster 195 pounds, but that was my most exciting and memorable hunt up to this point. I had to leave him to go get my brother to help get him out. I sure hated to leave him, so I covered him up with bushes. He had been a scrapper, his neck was all scared and bruised, and he broke off a lot of his tines.  The scorers said he would have been in the 150’s had he not broken off about 8 inches of  bone. So he ended up  grossing 147 plus, and since he had a forked G-2, and miss-matched tines, he only netted 137 plus. But I didn’t care, I rattled him in , and it was so exciting. I have rattled in a few others, but never got a shot. It’s hard to do where I hunt, it’s pretty thick and  they usually sneak up on you before you know it, then they are gone. Rattling doesn’t work very often, but when it does, It’s awesome! Give it a try.

gail-smith-buckshot52-entry-2.jpg

Article of the Month – May 2008
Thursday, May 8th, 2008

Heritage
By Bob Peck

Heritage is a big lofty word.  In fact, it’s one of those words we think we know or have heard so many times in school we don’t really stop to ponder it much.  Yeah, yeah…that’s his heritage.  I guess this is just human nature not to ponder the deep or to take for granted stuff we think we already think we know.  Getting deep is hard work.  When we speak of heritage many of us confuse it with lineage or ethnicity.  In my informal poll of good friends I ask “What’s your heritage?”.  I get answers like Irish, German, Italian, etc.  Heck, after a few months of asking I got confused so I looked it up on Dictionary.com  “something that comes or belongs to one by reason of birth”  Cool.  I like that, “belongs to one by reason of birth”.  Think about it.  “Belongs” to you because you were born and you didn’t have any say in being born.  I decided to take this thought to the turkey woods along with my list of prayers and never ending list of problems to work out.

My hunting heritage isn’t all that unusual from the national statistic.  Apparently the number one way we get involved in hunting is someone in our lives gives a hoot about their own hunting heritage and they feel compelled to pass it on.  Because we’re in a male dominated sport more than likely our Dad or favorite Uncle or someone close to us brings us into the woods to share what they know but that’s only where it starts, where the seed is planted.  It takes consistency and patience and resolve to nurture the seeds into a full blown Oak tree.  Many seeds get trampled along the way and many never germinate because of other priorities, careers and our mentors themselves getting lost.  Endurance is a good word.  It takes endurance to nurture the seed and grow it but then again with some Oak trees nothing seems to kill them once they’re planted. Yep.  Heritage is a big word and a bigger word still when you think of your own.  Ask yourself how you know which shot to take, where to set up, how you know to wait, when to move, what to wear, how long to track a wounded animal.  It’s trial and error, it’s training, it’s observation and it’s in the doing.  The “doing” like generations before have done, is where the oak begins to grow and a heritage takes shape.  Add your own little unique twist, improve but in aggregate your heritage comes from something that belongs to you from birth.  Not everyone’s hunting heritage is grand and weepy.  Some extend the legacy of poaching for the heck of it, ethics that border on satanic cruelty and a general running down of all the good people.  This too is human nature.  You cannot have the good without the bad, the ying and the yang if you will.  There are whole anti-hunting organizations that want the uninitiated to believe all hunting is evil but we know better don’t we.  I have a distant memory of my Father and I cutting up a deer he had shot and delivering it all neatly packaged to a shack that was surely abandoned. It wasn’t.

In hunting camps it’s more the historical recounting of where our hunting heritage comes from than the actual hunting stories themselves that intrigues me.  There always seems to be a patriarch in each camp who is the keeper of the knowledge or the keeper of the stories.  This is the eternal flame that cannot be extinguished.  The stories, the people within them, the decisions they made (good or bad) shape the stories.  The stories shape the heritage and the heritage takes on a life of its own. 

If I had one story to share with you that sums this lofty word it’s this.  December in the deep 4′ snow of Upstate NY.  The snow continued to fall and seemingly wouldn’t ever stop.  It’d been snowing for three days straight.  My Dad and I were hunting together.  I think I was 14.  Each time we paused to silently catch our breath or tap the packed snow off our snowshoes little piles of the feathery snow would accumulate in minature piles on the brims of our hat and the shoulders of our wool jackets. We moved silently and methodically for a few hours using the terrain to our advantage.  We’d pop up over a ridge or a ravine and lay in the snow to take a look. 

“There!” my Dad said in a hushed whisper that had some force behind it.  I looked, I looked again.  I had no idea if he meant the foreground or half a mile away.  “There!” was kinda vague.  He looked like an Irish Setter on point laying there in the snow with flakes accumulating on his gloved hands with each passing minute.  I could feel the snow compacting beneath me and conforming to my body.  I grew comfortable and warm as I squinted hard to see what Dad was seeing.  An eternity passed with no words being exchanged. My Dad’s fixed and icy glare was unwavering.  I don’t think he even blinked.  Still I could not see.  The only feature I could make out in that snowy and barren scene were 8-12 lumps in the snow.  Some were clumped together and others were satellites.  I wrote them off as stumps covered beneath the thick snow cover.  Just then one of the piles in front of me shifted and an ear protruded.  Yep. Definitely a deer but only one ear.  We hoisted ourselves to our feet never exchanging a word as we made our way slowly towards the piles in the snow.  One by one my Dad used his snowshoe to gently clear the snow from the piles.  Beneath each lump was a dead deer frozen solid.  Ribs were easy to count and sunken eyes revealed a terrible death by starvation.  The last moments brought some close together to share body heat and you know they didn’t die in unison.  They were literally one single frozen mass.  I can’t remember if Dad uncovered every pile but I do remember him reaching the pile with the ear poking out of it.  It was a late season fawn that should have been one of the first to die but yet somehow hung in there.  My Dad instinctively lifted his shotgun and dispatched the fawn without remorse.  “It’s better this way.” is all he said.  “Better?” I asked myself.  “Better than what?” but then all I had to do was look over that serene but frozen landscape and I knew “better” meant “better” than starving.  I kept waiting for my Dad to field dress the deer but he slung his shotgun over his shoulder and silently walked away.  I followed confused with my ears still ringing from the shotgun blast.

It was a long walk back to the truck.  I couldn’t tell if it had gotten colder or if I was just shook by the frozen and dead deer.  Regardless, I couldn’t stop shivering.  When we finally reached the truck I knew my Dad was upset.  He was a career cop and a very private guy so expressing what he must have felt inside didn’t happen.  I pushed down sadness and uncharacteristically tossed his stuff into the back of the truck where normally he would have carefully and methodically folded and packed his gear.  I can’t recall exactly how far down the snowy Upstate NY logging road we drove but it seemed like an eternity  It was slow going in the deep snow.  Finally, “What did you learn today son?”  came out of nowhere and barely audible over the sound of the windshield defroster.  He kept his eyes on the snow packed road in front.

I had no answer.  For once in my smart mouth, know-it-all 14 year-old adolescent life I had nothing to say, no thought came to mind.  It’s taken a lifetime to answer this question but now I know.  I know that hunters come to understand life and death better than non or anti hunters.  I learned that killing and mercy, in rare circumstances, can be the same thing.  I learned that too many deer can mean death to them in a most cruel way and finally, I learned that the ability to see, really see the forest for the trees is part of every hunters heritage.  Trespassers, poachers and people who shoot animals in the head and laugh are no more hunters than the fisherman catching a trout in a stocked pond.  These people are the ying to the ethical hunter’s yang. 

It was several years later that my Dad, his Father (my Grandfather) and I were lounging around at my Dad’s place in Florida.  I recounted the story for my Grandfathers’ benefit. He was 87 at the time and unbeknownst to us would pass on less than a year later.  When I finished the frozen deer story my Grandfather looked to me and said “What did you learn that day son?”  My Father had a big smile on his face.  It was clear the lessons I learned that day about our hunting heritage were at least three generations old.

I now find myself reaching the half century mark.  Hunts are a little bit more calm, a little bit more organized and a little bit more relaxing.  It’s a good hunt if I see game. It’s a great hunt if I return safely.  If I get back straps for the grill life is good.  If I see something I never saw before life is great.  I look at my 9-year-old son and 12 year-old daughter differently when hunting season begins to approach. I know if I don’t pass on our hunting heritage it’ll die like those frozen deer in the snow and what a terrible waste that would be.  Our hunting belongs to us by reason of birth.  I like that.

Freak Zone Bird
Thursday, May 1st, 2008

The following Hunt of the Month was written by one of our members. It is a look at a special turkey hunt through the eyes of an experienced female hunter and her not-so-experienced friend.  The first account is by Annette Huggins (the experienced hunter) and the second is written through the eyes of her friend Anmarie Defusco (Operating the video camera on her first turkey hunt).  We found this story to be a great example of how our lives, and in this case the lives of others, can be enriched by our hunting experiences.

Flhuntress’ Freak Zone Bird 2008 by Annette Huggins (AKA Flhuntress)

My bestfriend, Anmarie and I went to the Freak Zone opening morining. She was there to video the hunt because there was no way she’d pull the trigger….it took me 5yrs to get her to agree to even go and video.  I was hoping to get one in bow range but if not I had the shotgun. We had a hen fly down not far in front of us so we got to get a lil critter action. Things then slowed down. My boyfriend called to say that he had one down. He suggested that I break out my box call that “firedup” had made for me so I did (thanks guys!!). About 5 minutes later I heard a cluck not too far away. I assumed it was a hen. Next thing you know Anmarie’s eyes are buggin’ out of her head and she’s sayin’ something with a big white softball on it’s neck was staring at her.
I knew instantly that she was talking about a gobbler.
He was behind me but in front of her so I coudln’t see him. By the time I was able to finally see him I was beyond shaking. He wasn’t in bow range so I grabbed the gun, crawled in the mudd, and layed across Anmarie’s lap so i’d have some stability and have a shot. I pulled the trigger when he got past this lil tree…saw wing flappage so I knew he was down. He dropped right in his tracks. 
After we celebrated we grabbed all of our gear and headed out to meet everyone at the check station. My bird lived up to his expectations for being a “Freak Zone” bird. He was missing most of his primary feathers on one wing, had a freakishly skinny beard, one spur, and white legs. Gotta love The Freak Zone! 
If Anmarie hadn’t of seen him or had reacted any differently than she did I would have totally missed the oppurtunity completely. I was so proud of her. We weren’t able to get the actuall shot on video because of the position I was in but she did get all of the after shots. (I got so excited that i started gaggin’…..she didn’t get the money shot but she got that…lol.)
It was soooo cool being able to see her experience all the reasons that I hunt. From the moment the woods wake up to actually being able to get a kill. She got to experience it all. I know she loved every second of it so hopefully I’ll get her to agree to shoot the next one herself.

Flhuntress freak zone bird

In the Forest of Green by Anmarie Defusco (1st time Outdoor Videographer and Annette’s Friend)

As if a blanket covered our eyes, we ventured out into silent darkness. Coolness was in the air as we walked through ankle high water surrounded by thick palmetto bush listening for any sound that might come from the forest around us. The walk itself was an adventure, through webs and branches we trudged listening to the sound of a Great Owl who echoed through the trees. I had to ask if I was breathing loud because sometimes the sound of my own heart and breath seemed so loud I thought everyone could hear, it wasn’t fear but anticipation of what was to come.
In a clearing masked by Palm Fronds and fallen branches stood the camouflaged blind where we would sit silent and still for the next three hours. It was dark and smelled of damp leaves. A couple of spiders dropped down on their webs to let us know we had entered their new home. With minimal light from the moon we started to prepare for the hunt, placing the turkey decoys several yards from the blind returning inside to start the wait.
Your senses seem to open and take on a primal memory from somewhere in your mind, as you sit and listen to the forest come alive. Slowly the woods start transforming into shades of bluish gray and the shadows of night start to move and change shape. Cricks and cracks make you want to jump and look but you have to remain still, somehow you manage to remember not to move and fight the natural impulse to quickly turn and look. Birds start to sing their songs and a whippoorwill serenades you. No coffee or bacon and eggs, just the woods and all its wonder, which fills you just as good as any cup of Folgers.
My heart started to quicken with the sound of wings, the cracking of braches in front of us. I strained my eyes to see; there it was a hen, a female turkey. I didn’t know the ins and outs of this adventure I was on, only that I was looking for a turkey when with great excitement I got to whisper I see a turkey. I was expecting her to shoot it; I mean there was a turkey. That’s when I learned that you don’t shoot the hens unless they have a beard, which to me was kind of chauvinistic and a vision of a bird with a beard is funny when you think about it at least for those of us who are not true hunters. The beard is not actually on its face but a prickly patch of bristles that protrude off of the breast. My knees shook as the excitement of seeing the bird grew. My friend got out her turkey call to try and bring in a gobbler. That is what we are waiting for. All this excitement was for the adult male, I guess that is sort of chauvinistic too.
I kept looking out into the thick woods and thought I saw something round and pale, not green like the leaves or brown like the stumps and trunks just something different up ahead. I kept starring waiting for it to move but it seemed to stay still. I thought it must just be a branch or bush of some sort. An hour may have past, the time seems to just go by and it is hard to tell how long you have been sitting except for the occasional ache in your neck that comes from being stuck in one position so long. I stared out into the forest green, closed my eyes and said to myself, when I open my eyes I will see a turkey. Amazingly enough I opened my eyes to see this very tall bird with a white head starring directly at me. I knew I couldn’t move, I had to stay still as me knees shook again and my hands started to shake. I whispered as softly as I could to my friend, there is a huge bird with a white head starring at me, it looks like a freaking ostrich. I seriously could not believe how big this bird was. I have seen turkeys at the zoo, all puffed out with their feathers fanned out but this bird was standing tall and proud. It was completely different then anything you see in captivity. It is so hard to put into words what nature truly is and the appearance of an animal in its natural habitat will put you in unbelievable awe.
My friend hunts with a bow as well as a gun she took a moment to judge whether this would be a good shot to take with her bow. She decided that the shot was not clear enough and picked up her shotgun. The time to think this through is literally seconds. She has to make the right choice or she looses the chance. The quarters were close, there was no where for her to position herself and I soon became a brace for her and the shotgun. There wasn’t time to think about what was happening, not the fact that this shotgun is directly on the side of my face or that this was it, the moment we have been waiting for. It was quick and with the most controlled quickness I have ever seen she fired one shot and took the bird down. I don’t think it was three seconds before we were out of the blind running toward the bird. My friend yelling to me to stay where I am, she did not want me to get upset seeing the bird go through the death process, the nerves twitching and such. I couldn’t think of much else except seeing the bird so I kept yelling to her and running toward the bird saying I would be okay and there it was. Tall and strong with these white and brown feathers that actually had this orange shimmer when the light hit them. His face was white and red with touches of an almost iridescent blue, it was magnificent. His neck was long and I finally saw the beard I heard so much about and spurs that again with my mental images of a turkey walking around with a beard a cowboy hat and spurs gone forever the reality of what this bird truly is will be the only image I see from now on. As the adrenaline started to subside, we began to get our things together.
A few high fives ensued, a lot of laughter and the silence was officially broken. It was time to clean up and start back to take the bird to the check station.
This was an adventure I will never forget, a greater appreciation for nature which I already hold at a high regard and also greater appreciation for a friend who has been my best friend for seventeen years. Who is brave and can do anything she puts her mind to. I hope that through this life if she ever feels down or if she ever feels alone she is able to remember that the strength and courage she has is greater then most.                                   

Member Profile – May 2008
Thursday, May 1st, 2008

May’s Member Spotlight is on: Joel Proffit from Pennsylvania

Joel is an avid outdoorsman as well as a musician.  He writes music based on hunting, fishing and the great outdoors.  Please check out his website HERE 

Joel proffit

This is what Joel Had to say in his interview with Heritage Hunters:

HH: How did you get started hunting?
JP:
look back to when I was a young boy:  September would come and go; October would do the same; then November would roll around and I would notice dad begin to tinker with the contents in his gun closet.  I would watch as dad would take out his 7mm Remington Mag, and make sure it was oiled and cleaned (see the song 7mm Rem. Mag.)  Then came the day in early November that dad would go to the range.  Now, the range consisted of dad’s homemade targets being set up at about 100 yards out behind this old barn near our house—(I know many can relate to this!!!).  Sometimes
I would accompany him, but if I didn’t, I would hear a few shots ring out as dad sighted in his “CANNON”!!!  Then, that first day of hunting season would come.  In PA, schools used to close for that opening day.  I am living in PA now, but do not know if that is the case any more since I am out of the “school loop”.  I hated that I was not able to tag along with dad.  I was still too young.  If dad did not get a deer opening day—which was rare—I would wait eagerly each day of the week to be able to see dad after he came home from hunting.  Dad was the principle of our private school, so sometimes, if he had connected when brother and I were in school, he would come get us out of class so we could see the deer. Even though, however, I could not tag along with dad during those hunting seasons, Dad took the time to teach my brother and I all about shooting guns and how to be safe with them.  I can remember vividly my first BB gun, and dad teaching me about the .22—Man that was fun.  Then as I neared my 11th B-day, there was talk about maybe getting me a gun of my own for Christmas.  A real gun I could hunt deer with. . . And I could go with dad when I turned 12!!!!!!  Talk about excitement!!!!!  That first gun was a .30-.30 savage.  I still have it, and still take care of a few deer with it.  Dad let me tag along—I think it was 2 years before my 12th
b-day—obviously without a gun.  Yeah, I loved every minute of just sitting there keeping my mouth shut.  Then came the big day!!!!!  I would get to carry my own gun in the woods, and if that deer came by I would be the one to pull the trigger.  Opening morning, I missed a spike directly under my tree.  Dad had built this deer stand on some property of some friends.  All the guys that hunted the hill called it “THE FORT”.  It was about 20 feet up in the tree—made of steel and had a trap door so we could enter.  Dad would take a few days each year and cut shooting lanes so there would be no opportunity for a bullet to stray.  Well, with that spike directly under my tree—There was nothing in the way for the bullet to hit and stray—It was all my BUCK FEVER FLINCHING!!!!  I was devastated.  We hunted hard for the rest of that season to try to get my buck.  On the last day, there was a blizzard and we were hunting in it.  Getting close to the afternoon, dad put on a drive.  The Lord allowed a 6 pt to come from the opposite way and I pegged him.  We moved to NC a couple years later.  Here, the rules were a little different.  My brother, who was not yet 12 could go hunting with dad and I.  That first year, dad and I did come back up to PA and hunt together—We did not connect in PA that year.  It was great having my brother, Micah, hunting now too.  We were a family hunting party—It was great.  The best thing was that the rules in NC allowed for 6 deer on a license.  That meant that as a family we could harvest 18 deer a year—Several years we did just that.  And, for the record, every bit of it was eaten!!!!  We lived off of venison.  We hunted together through junior high, high-school, and when Micah and I would come home on breaks from college.  After college, I married and moved back to PA.  Although every now and then I go back down and hunt with my dad, times are not like they had been.  I am only able to spend a week or so each time I go—I sure do miss those times hunting with dad. (SEE THE SONG “HUNTIN’ WITH DAD”)  We did mostly deer hunting, however, my brother and I also did a fair amount of dove, quail, and squirrel hunting.  I have been able to also enjoy going after geese, bear, and rabbit.  This year I will head into the woods to try to tag my first turkey!!!  Can’t wait—The spring season is right around the corner!!!
 
HH: What is your best hunting memory to date!!!
JP:
Wow!!!  This is a tough question!!!  I have three.  The first is that first year
hunting with dad.  The second took place  Thanksgiving week of 2006.  My wife and I
were going to head down to NC to spend Thanksgiving with my folks.  We could not go
there in the middle of hunting season and not hunt.  Both my wife and I bought licenses
and we were hoping to fill the tags. Yes, my wife is a hunter and a great shot at that
(listen to my song—Huntin’ and Fishin’ wife).  We hunted over soybean fields and man did the deer come out.  Between my dad, my wife and I, we connected on 13 deer in 5 days.  It was a blast.  My wife and I were sitting several hundred yards apart on a couple of occasions and I would watch as a deer would come into her field and she would peg it.  Then she could watch as a deer would come into my field and I would take it down.  No, Not all of these were bucks.  As I said earlier, we live off of venison, and I don’t have to think twice about taking a nice doe or two for the freezer.The third would have to be the opportunity I had to be there when my brother and my wife
shot their first deer.  I love being there when someone shoots his/her first.  It’s a thrill!!!!

HH: What is your favorite type of hunting and why?
JP:
I would have to say that of all the hunting I have done so far I like archery for deer
probably the best. I say this because I love the suspense.  But, I can’t say that if I were
to try elk or bear with the bow that I would not quickly change to liking that more.
I love being soooo….. close to the wildlife—it’s quite the challenge.   I do like dove and
goose for the action!!!  However, I think if I would have an opportunity to go for a ram, caribou, elk, or grizzly, that would probably top any of the ones I have mentioned.

HH: If you had an opportunity to hunt anything, anywhere, what would it be
and where?
JP:
I would have to say that I have three dream hunts.  My first would be an elk hunt in Colorado or Wyoming with my brother and my dad.  My dad has always wanted to hunt elk but has never gotten the opportunity.  I would love for my brother and I to go with him on an elk hunt out west some day.   I would love to be there to see him get a nice bull.  I would love to take an elk with my bow, but I think I would put one on the ground with the rifle first!!!!!  My second would be a ram, grizzly or moose hunt in Alaska.  My third would be an archery caribou or bear hunt anywhere. 
 
HH: One way you are passing on your hunting heritage is through your music. What are your plans for the future in that arena?
JP:
KEEP GOING!!!!  As long as the Lord allows me to be able to enjoy the outdoors,
I can come up with new songs.  I thank the Lord for the talent he has allowed me to have in this area.  I have a second CD that will be out this coming summer (2008).  I also have a few songs getting prepared for a third CD.  I want my music to be solely about the outdoors.  I want it to promote family values.  I want it to promote enjoyment, excitement and fun times in the outdoors. 

HH: On your website, you give listeners the origination behind each song.
Can you give us some song titles to any new songs you’re working on?
JP:
The second CD will have 10 new songs on it:  Here are the titles to a few of these songs.
I couldn’t ask for a Better Day
Take it with the shoulder not the head!!
There He Is!!
Hunt of a Lifetime
I Wanna be free
It’s called Deer Huntin’
Mount the Meat, Eat the Horns
That’s My Deer/Dear!!!!!!!
Twitch
A Friend of Mine

HH: How do you plan on passing on your hunting/fishing heritage to your new daughter?
JP:
Let’s just say that she has already been in the woods with her dad and mom tracking a deer!!!  She was asleep against my chest the whole time while covered by my hunting parka, but she was with us.  As soon as I can I want to teach my kids (boy or girl) to hunt and fish.  She has a little camouflage hat that says “daddy’s little hunter”.  I can’t wait for the times to spend hunting and fishing with my daughter.  Lord willing, there will be many great memories made!!!
 
HH: Is there anything else you’d like to say about your outdoor experiences? 

JP: “I relish all the time that I get to spend in the outdoors.  However, if it was not for the Lord, I would not be able to experience all that I have and will experience.  I thank Him for everything!!!!”

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