The saddest hunting story of the year

by Steve Sorensen
(Originally published in the Warren Times Observer, Warren, PA, May 17, 2008.)

A distraught family will never recover
from a sorrow that could have been prevented.

This column may be difficult to read. A few weeks ago a Minnesota hunter made the worst mistake of his life. Thinking he saw a turkey, he shot his little boy.

Some will see this tragedy as a reason to pile on the anti-hunting bandwagon, and blame guns, hunting, and even rural American culture. But several facts have emerged that show this mistake apparently followed a series of other mistakes and choices that compound the sadness and grief of a distraught family that will never recover from a sorrow that could have been prevented.

Here’s the story. A hunter, with his 8-year-old boy accompanying him, saw some turkeys in a field and hoped to call them in for a shot. He told the boy to stay put while he moved around the field.

As the father called to the turkeys, they called back and he believed they were approaching. He heard a sound, and he saw something rise up. Seeing the roundish shape and thinking it was the tail fan of a turkey, he fired the ill-fated shot. It was his son, dressed in camouflage with a hood over his head. He was pronounced dead at the scene.

The mistakes are several. One mistake many will accuse the man of is not a mistake at all, nor is it illegal. It’s natural and normal for parents to take kids along when pursuing their interests. People do it all the time, and hunting is no different in that respect than sledding, fishing, or playing baseball. All are activities where tragedies have happened, yet no one suggests kids shouldn’t enjoy these activities with their parents in appropriate ways.

But the mistakes began before that. First, the dad wasn’t a legally licensed hunter. He had won a lottery entitling him to purchase a turkey permit under the Minnesota system, but failed to make the purchase.

Second, the man was apparently trespassing. The property owner had not given permission for the man to hunt there.

It gets worse. A breath test administered at the scene showed that the man had alcohol in his system. A urine test administered a few hours later confirmed it, and also showed the presence of marijuana. His truck contained several containers of beer, (most of them opened), along with a marijuana pipe. (These matters were not included in the criminal charges.)

Yet, the man made some other basic common-sense errors that led to this tragedy. One was in telling the youngster to stay put. Who can expect an 8-year-old to remain alone when the very reason for the outing is to be with his daddy? The boy should have been within arm’s reach at all times, both for the boy’s safety and so that the two could share the experience.

Another mistake was in shooting at a shape. Every spring turkey hunter knows that identifying your target is basic to the hunt. Before pulling the trigger, the hunter must see the turkey’s beard. Plenty of gobblers are called into shotgun range where the hunter sees a big, round tail fan, and the red, white and blue head of a strutting gobbler. That’s what I saw the other day but I didn’t shoot -- because without seeing a turkey’s beard, you don’t pull the trigger.

Thus far this year we can be thankful Pennsylvania’s spring gobbler season has been unmarked by tragedy. That’s especially good news because the state Game Commission recently removed the regulation requiring turkey hunters to wear fluorescent orange, a regulation that did not prove to reduce turkey hunting accidents.

Like most other sporting activities, turkey hunting is safe. It’s safer when hunters understand that the only blood alcohol content that should be tolerated is zero. It’s safer when hunters always know where their companions are. It’s safer when the hunter positively identifies his target. It’s safer when the hunter obeys all laws and regulations. It’s safer when hunters use common sense. And it’s safer when hunters commit to never taking a risk. No turkey is worth it.

Turkey Hunting – And So Much More

by Steve Sorensen
(Originally published in the Warren Times Observer, Warren, PA, May 3, 2008.)

Some experiences are virtually
impossible to acquire except while turkey hunting.

The serious turkey hunter is a paradox. On the one hand, he’s a relic. In the words of the Merle Haggard song, he’s "a man from another time" -- a time when only a few hunters pursued wild butterballs. Back then turkeys weren’t taken seriously by many, and consequently didn’t get much pressure.

On the other hand, the turkey hunter is also a man from our time. And of course, today the hunter might be a woman. Either way, today’s turkey hunter is for sure an anomaly in a genteel, over-civilized world influenced more by legends of the urban kind than the campfire kind.

A hundred years ago market hunting had reduced wild turkey numbers to the point where they thrived only in isolated pockets, mostly in the southeastern United States.

Today turkey hunting has hit its heyday, and wily longbeards continue to survive all across the country, even though they get more pressure from expert hunters than any bootlegger ever did from snooping federal revenuers.

Yesterday turkey hunting was a pastime undertaken by loners and lovers of the sunrise. Those old-timers had an uncanny knack for bringing home this intriguing gamebird with regularity -- and an uncommon appreciation for the gifts that come with each rising sun.

Today turkey hunting is a nationwide passion among sportsmen, and turkey populations thrive. Today’s hunters treasure the same gifts yesterday’s hunters did, whether or not they attach a harvest tag to the leg of a gobbler.

Those gifts are one of the best parts of turkey hunting. Contrary to what non-hunters and anti-hunters may think, hunting is not just a blood sport. It’s also an art sport. It’s the joy of seeing each new day replicate the one before, but with something unique that makes it a new work of art freshly sculpted by our Creator.

The turkey hunter especially, an eyewitness to a thousand sunrises, has eyes to see God’s handiwork animated and interacting in ways few others are ever likely to see first hand. Disneyworld can’t compare.

The turkey hunter witnesses innumerable glories of the morning – greater treasures than he would have by lugging a longbeard home to show his friends. A close encounter with a black bear becomes part of the story. An owl flits silently by, wingtips just a foot from the hunter’s face. A bobcat spoils the hunt when the hunter is reeling in a gobbler as if on a string.

The turkey can be killed another day. Or not. It doesn’t matter, because some experiences are virtually impossible to acquire except while turkey hunting. The hunter has seen what others see only on their television sets. And he hasn’t merely seen it. He has participated in nature’s drama in a way that the non-hunter won’t and the anti-hunter can’t.

In the company of other turkey hunters, a single offhand reference to any unusual incident will prompt a dozen unique stories that won’t get stale with any number of tellings. Maybe you have to be a turkey hunter to understand.

The turkey hunter is out to do more than fill a tag. His hunt can be abundantly successful and his satisfaction real without ever pulling the trigger. The bottom line is that it doesn’t matter whether he kills a turkey. Some days he’s thankful he didn’t. He’s just glad to be out there, participating in the sights, the smells, the sounds of the springtime turkey woods.

Yes, the turkey hunter is a paradox, and more. He’s a contrarian. He’s been out of bed for hours when others are hitting snooze buttons. He shuns the light when walking in woodland darkness where others measure their comfort in candlepower.

This turkey hunter, this relic in the modern world, eats, sleeps and breathes turkeys. He climbs hills and wades streams and marches for miles and sacrifices sleep – all to get within earshot of the booming gobble of the wild turkey. In accomplishing that, he accomplishes so much more.

What’s your style for spring gobblers?

by Steve Sorensen
(Originally published in the Warren Times Observer, Warren, PA, April 19, 2008.)

If you’re going through a dry period,
it’s time to broaden your approach.

Spring gobbler season is upon us, and it offers one of the longest seasons of the year. But many hunters enter the woods on opening day unsure of what it will take to call in an unpredictable gobbler. This year, what’s your approach?

Unpredictability is not always bad. Sometimes it works in favor of the hunter. My earliest experiences taught me that gobblers can be surprisingly easy to call in. You don’t need to be an expert caller, a seasoned woodsman, or a turkey biologist to hang those first few beards on the wall. In fact, a successful novice will often wonder why hunters think it’s so hard. After a few more turkey hunts the rookie will wonder why his luck changed.

Usually nothing has changed, and that’s the problem. The rookie got stuck on his first successful strategy. If you’re going through a dry period, it’s time to broaden your approach.

Turkey hunting strategies can be broken down to two basic styles. I call them the low-impact and the high-impact approaches. Everything else is a combination of these two.

Both approaches require you to become invisible in the woods. Begin with proper camo. Practice stealth. Be as silent as a bobcat sneaking through the woods.

Both approaches rely on woodsmanship. Being able to identify certain areas where turkeys will be comfortable is essential to success on a regular basis.

Both approaches resist the assumption that just because a gobbler is not sounding off, there is no gobbler nearby.

Other than that, the two styles differ.

The high-impact hunter is looking for a dominant breeder, and assumes the gobbler is looking for love. That dictates his approach.

He’s likely to open the hunt with shock calls – calls that trigger a vocal response from a gobbler. He might use owl calls, crow calls, hawk calls, coyote calls, even peacock calls. Any sound that penetrates the woods will often prompt the gobbler to reveal his position.

The low-impact hunter listens to the morning’s orchestra of songbirds as they awaken. Even if he doesn’t hear a gobbler, he knows that the gobbler might be as active as the conductor of the orchestra – but just as silent. The bird might not be looking for love, but will be looking for companionship, or to satisfy dominance. The gobbler might not make a sound, and that doesn’t mean he can’t be called in.

The low-impact hunter knows that loud shock calls might reach out a mile or two, and get gobblers to answer beyond the hunter’s own hearing range. If they do, he may only be helping other hunters. So, he’ll often allow the woods to awaken naturally. Our woods have plenty of owls, crows and hawks, and the low-impact hunter lets them sound off on their own.

The high-impact hunter thinks the gobbler is driven by instinct, and he’s right. That makes him an aggressive hunter. He uses all the calls and tactics in his tool box, wanting to make sure he gives the gobbler something that flips his love switch on.

The low-impact hunter also knows the gobbler is driven by instinct, but not just the mating instinct. He tries to capitalize on the gobbler’s inborn anxiety. So, the low-impact hunter hunts as though the gobbler is always on the brink of a nervous breakdown.

The high-impact hunter is an aggressive caller. He covers lots of ground and does everything he can to get a gobbler’s attention. A loud box call is his best friend. He doesn’t worry about making perfect sounds, because turkeys aren’t always good callers.

The low-impact caller also knows his calls don’t have to be contest-winning quality. He might rely more on slate calls and diaphragm calls, using them softly and sparingly.

The high-impact hunter and the low-impact hunter both carry home their share of gobblers, but most of the best hunters use both styles. The high number of hunters in the woods on weekends might dictate a low-impact hunt, but on weekdays the high-impact approach can be very productive during the first half of the season. Make it your goal this season to learn what works best for you, and when.

He Has Rambled On Ahead

by Steve Sorensen
(Originally published in the Warren Times Observer, Warren, PA, April 5, 2008.)

He was one of the world’s best at photographing
the beauty and symmetry of individual snowflakes.

What do you say when you’ve lost a hunting partner? What do you say when it’s your brother?

I know I’m not alone. As time goes by the hunting population ages, and each day people lose more and more campmates, fishing buddies and outdoor heroes. And although brothers are irreplaceable, when they leave this world at 48 years it’s a tragedy – especially when they leave a couple of young outdoorsmen behind, ages six and nine.

Although Andy was younger than I am, I looked up to him as a big brother. Of all my siblings, he was the rambler, the one with wanderlust. When he left Pennsylvania for Alaska in 1991 he broadened my world, opening the way for me to fulfill a childhood dream of hunting Alaska. Our experiences together are today all the more valuable, and two big sets of moose antlers testify to Andy’s skills as my Alaskan guide.

When in the valley of the shadow of death, people tend to look at a person’s positive qualities and overlook his deficiencies. But also when in that sorrowful valley we realize how insignificant those faults are, and how glaring our own seem. We remember that we all have shortcomings, and we realize again what a mistake it is to hold on to our grudges.

Andy had lots of special skills, and all of them intersected with the outdoors. Through his expert photography he recorded and preserved family activities – hundreds of pictures that will become more precious as time goes by.

He was one of the world’s best – and that’s no exaggeration – at photographing the beauty and symmetry of individual snowflakes, a thousand times larger than real life. No one who sees one of these photographs can avoid a closer look. (If you want to see them, check out his gallery at www.AndySorensen.com where you can gaze to your heart’s content, and maybe even buy one.)

He was one of Anchorage’s best fishermen. All who fished this world-class urban fishery knew him and admired his ability to catch 40 to 50 pound king salmon on fly tackle. I saw him doing “the Andy run” more than once, yelling “Fish on!” as he chased a giant chromer down Ship Creek to keep it from stripping all his line. Everyone would immediately abandon the “combat fishing” mode and move aside out of respect for Andy as he fought yet another impressive king.

Some people make repeated trips to Alaska and never catch a king salmon. Thanks to Andy’s help I caught two a couple of years ago, and Dad landed one that was near 50 pounds. Andy’s son Erik, the first time he ever wet a line for king salmon, waded amidst diehard fishermen while he tossed his fly into the water and landed a nice king on his very first cast. Grown men stood with mouths agape. That could happen only to Andy’s son.

Each summer in Anchorage, there is a King Salmon Derby in Ship Creek. Lots of people thought Andy was a likely winner, but he never did win it. Last summer, however, he coached a young lady to a first-place win in the women’s division. She now brags on Andy as “The King of Kings.”

That’s a name Andy cannot accept, because he knew the one who really is the King of all earthly kings. Today, Andy has again rambled on ahead, and is now standing waist deep in a stream somewhere learning new techniques from that King while he waits for the rest of us to catch up.

Andy, with a 40-pound king salmon.

Prepare Now For Stubborn Gobblers

by Steve Sorensen
(Originally published in the Warren Times Observer, Warren, PA, March 15, 2008.)

Even a king-size keister that rivals the size
of a hot air balloon isn’t as padded as it looks.

As I write this, it’s a little more than six short weeks until many Pennsylvania turkey hunters will be sitting, backs against trees, with a rock or root punishing their bottom sides. They’ll be wondering how long they can outlast a stubborn gobbler. It’s time to make a few decisions that will add to your stamina.

My worst case scenario was a couple of years ago. I had been working a mega-gobbler for almost 4½ hours when I chose a moment to adjust my position. Little did I know that the pigheaded gobbler was within shotgun range, screened by a patch of brush. He chose that exact moment to fly off the mountainside, and I never heard from him again.

All I was left with was the question of whether my backside would recover. My derriere hadn’t been punished that badly since Mr. Scordo gave me a whack in gym class way back in eighth grade.

It’s a wonder I didn’t get a bedsore from the ordeal. What I got was a lesson in failure. I didn’t pass the test of wills. In the four-plus hours I danced with that turkey, I could have walked home, watched Costner’s marathon movie “Dances With Wolves,” and waltzed back to continue the battle.

If you hunt turkeys enough, sooner or later you’ll have an experience like that. Hours will go by. You’ll long for the comfort of your easy chair. Now is the time to think of the things that will put you in a position to win the test of wills with a wily longbeard.

Probably the first place you’ll wish for relief is your bum, butt, or whatever you call that large muscle mass you sit on. Even a king-size keister that rivals the size of a hot air balloon isn’t as padded as it looks, and it’s likely to go numb after an hour or so. You can get a foam pad to sit on, or even a turkey vest with a drop-down seat. But these are almost nothing compared to a hunter’s seat.

BuckWing Products from Allentown, Pennsylvania makes one that will definitely keep you on your nether parts longer, and one day it will be the difference between carrying a gobbler home or not. It has folding legs that adjust to uneven terrain, keeping you above the rocks and roots, and making it easier to find a place to sit. It also keeps you off the ground, and therefore dry. And it keeps the seat of your pants from collecting dirt and depositing it on the seat of your truck.

Besides your basement, another place that can get rubbed raw is the roof of your mouth if you use a diaphragm call. Quaker Boy has solved that problem with its new “Foam Fit” series of calls. Instead of ordinary tape, these calls have a softer cushioned tape that seals against the roof of your mouth and prevents your palate from chafing.

Not many turkey hunters use a shooting stick, thinking they’re just for varmint hunters. But varmint hunters never hold the gun up for hours at a time. The right shooting sticks will do the job here, and some are inexpensive.

I’m a minimalist who tends to shun carrying extra baggage. I’m afraid I’ll leave something behind when I head to the next spot, make a tactical move on a bird, or carry a gobbler out of the woods. Too many times I have left behind decoys, box calls, and padded seats – and found things other hunters have left behind. That’s proof enough that traveling lightly has its advantages. But carrying certain comforts with you has its advantages, too.

Now is the time to consider what minor comforts will add to your stamina, and increase your odds of bagging the most obstinate gobbler. Hunting pressured gobblers requires certain sacrifices. If carrying an extra piece of equipment or two means carrying home a trophy gobbler, the sacrifice is worth it.

A Hunter’s Random Thoughts

by Steve Sorensen
(Originally published in the Warren Times Observer, Warren, PA, March 1, 2008.)

As ethical hunters we should have a short list
of things we’ll never do, lines we’ll never cross.

It’s Spring: Deer season doesn’t seem very long ago, and now we’re thinking and planning for spring gobbler season. The turkeys are gobbling. It’s time to begin scouting. When you have a couple of hours, get out in the woods to look for those three-toed tracks. Get out early to listen for those glorious, thunderous sounds.

Shed Antler Hunting: Don’t forget the other woods-wandering early spring activity – hunting for shed antlers. It won’t be long before this snow melts, and that’s the time to look for those clues that some bucks made it through the hunting season and escaped old man winter. But, you’re not likely to find antlers if you approach it randomly, or by scouring the open woods. Deer limit their movement during winter and spend very little time in the open woods. You need to concentrate your search on bedding areas, feeding areas, and the trails between.

Holier-Than-Thou: Lots of people think of a holier-than-thou attitude and religious nuts in the same thought. But lots of non-religious people have a holier-than-thou attitude. We find it in politics all the time – and even in the politics of hunting. “You should eat everything you kill” is one example. On the surface, it sounds right. And often people hold up Native Americans as the model. It feels good to think of Native Americans in that idealistic way. But Native Americans killed lots of animals they didn’t eat – even animals that they didn’t use. Sometimes they burned the habitat to encourage new growth, increasing the food supply for their game animals. In doing that, they killed non-game animals by destroying their habitat. This is merely a fact, not a criticism. None of us eat everything we kill.

An Anti-Hunter Strategy: The “eat everything you kill” attitude sounds like it’s a pro-hunting attitude, but it isn’t based on sound game management principles. It fails to recognize that the role of hunters is to be stewards of all wildlife – both game and non-game species. It actually divides sportsmen. It allows a few of us to feel righteous while anti-hunters attack us on the flank. And it's part of the anti-hunter divide and conquer strategy.

Hunting Is a Paradox: People have a hard time with the idea of paradox, and lots of wrong thinking results from trying to resolve paradoxes. Hunting is a paradox. Call it a blood sport if you want. Someone has said that hunting would just be hiking without the killing. Yes, it’s about killing, but it’s also not about killing. I’ve hunted plenty of days without killing, and I wasn’t just hiking. On almost every one of those days, the hunting was worth it. On many of those days, I’ve even been glad I didn’t kill something. If hunting is nothing more than primitive bloodlust, how do you explain that?

The Orange Rule: Since 1993, spring gobbler hunters in Pennsylvania have had to wear "A hat containing a minimum of 100 square inches of solid fluorescent orange material, visible 360 degrees,… at all times when moving." That rule was recently lifted by the Pennsylvania Game Commission. Members of the PGC were reluctant to make the change, but Pennsylvania was the only state with that rule and we had no clear evidence that the rule added to our safety. Bear in mind that the PGC took a risk in making this change. The risk is that if hunters get careless and accidental shooting incidents increase, we have only ourselves to blame.

Never, Ever: To those who say, “Never say never,” I say “Hogwash.” As ethical hunters we should have a short list of things we’ll never do, lines we’ll never cross. And at the top of that list should be five short, simple words: NEVER TAKE A RISKY SHOT. Never. Ever. Not one.

Say ‘Yes’ to a hunting license fee increase

by Steve Sorensen
(Originally published in the Warren Times Observer, Warren, PA, Feb. 16, 2008.)

The PGC has no taxing authority.
It has no line item in the state budget.
And it can’t run at a deficit.

I hate to say this, but it’s time the Pennsylvania Game Commission be permitted to raise license fees.

I know that lots of hunters will disagree with me. They will say a higher price will mean fewer licenses sold. They’re probably right. They will say fewer licenses sold will mean fewer hunters and fewer hunters will have a weaker voice in game management, gun and hunting rights issues. They have a good point.

Many people may not realize that the Pennsylvania Game Commission’s principle source of funding comes from the hunters who buy licenses. That means that aside from unstable timber and mineral revenues, hunters are paying all the bills. We have not had a license increase in nine years, and the costs of running a game management program continue to rise.

The Pennsylvania Game Commission was chartered in 1895 to remain independent of the state legislature, and as such it cannot run as a government. It has no taxing authority. It has no line item in the state budget. And it can’t run at a deficit.

Like a business, it depends on its customers for revenue. But unlike a business, it can’t raise and lower prices, nor are prices dependent upon the market. The state legislature must approve any license increase proposed by the PGC. Saying “No” is an easy, cost-free, high-visibility way for state legislators to look good while they do wrong.

Being saddled to the state legislature has a benefit. The PGC has no owner. It has no trustees. It has no shareholders. Without these, it would have no fiscal accountability. That’s the role the legislature plays.

Getting politicians to cooperate is time-consuming, so the lag between asking for and getting an increase creates a cumbersome situation. First, one of them must be willing to sponsor the legislation. Then they drag their feet, debate, pander and strike deals – always under pressure from voters – while PGC work goes on and PGC costs continue to rise.

Lots of deer hunters will no doubt think that the PGC has mismanaged the deer program and will say that it should be left to lie in the bed it has made. They might even say that the PGC has failed in its responsibilities. But its charter makes it responsible not just for deer, not just for game animals, but for about 400 wildlife species in the state, even if they’re not game animals. The PGC fails when any species suffers.

The PGC gets pressure from everyone – not just hunters – and there is no way to please everyone. Even the state Supreme Court has gotten into the act, now insisting that the PGC manage wild hogs that have escaped from private owners.

Some people will say that the PGC should cut out waste before asking for an increase – not realizing that the PGC has been in a stringent cost-containment program since 2006 when the legislature most recently failed to act on an increase. It sent lots of people into retirement back then, and many critical jobs have not been filled.

Some hunters will say that the PGC has destroyed small game hunting. Quality small game hunting is available on the land the PGC manages, but it cannot manage private property. Responsibility for the loss of small game habitat cannot be laid on the doorstep of the PGC.

I remember when the $5 I could get for a deer hide was enough to pay for my license. Some hunters might see that as evidence that higher license fees are a sign that hunting is becoming a rich man’s sport. But license fees have a lot less to do with that than limited access to land and the other costs that go into hunting. Comparisons are hard to make, but even with a fee increase (which would be only the second increase in 23 years), the cost of a license in Pennsylvania will be a bargain when compared to other states.

The reality is that the Game Commission has created more opportunities for today’s hunters than any hunters who have gone before. Without proper funding of the PGC, we risk someday looking back on these days as the good old days.