I watch the hen creep through the thick underbrush a warm, wet April has brought upon us. I say what every turkey hunter says at this point, “Here we go. Now where’s your boyfriend?” She closes the distance, I sit, silent and stone still, waiting for the inevitable gobbler short on her trail. At 50 yards she freezes and locks eyes with me. I’m camouflaged from head to toe, and have brush all around to break me up. There is no reason she should know I’m here. She turns and runs, and just then, I see the gobbler’s head. He turns to follow. I then turn to see a man and his dog chasing each other down the trail. I can’t seem to catch a break, but that’s just how it is this year, on public land.
2020 has been a year that will put almost all of us in our children’s history books. As we all deal with the effects of COVID-19 in different ways, and all manner of social issues, us outdoorsman have found our own issues with it. Outdoors people are inherently good at social distancing. Our hobby requires solitude of us, but whether it was a cancellations of season, trailhead closures, or closures of boat ramps to access hunting and fishing, we also have a, “new normal” to begin to face.
I can only speak to my issues I’m currently experiencing, but hopefully this series of congruent issues is universal enough so that you can find some relatability in my rants.
I find myself as an urban dweller at this point in my life. Watching window washers repel down my building wall as I write this. In the shade of man made and ever changing Nashville skyline. I have lived my hunting and fishing life over the past 10 years learning and basically living, in overlooked and undervalued pieces of public land. I’ve had much of it to myself over that time period and have enjoyed incredible hunts for whitetails, turkey, and small game alike. This year however; with the, “Safer at Home” order coinciding with the spring turkey season. “My woods,” are being overrun with new people.
This causes a lot of problems, but mainly these two: turkeys being so smart they are bordering on telepathic, and losing my favorite spots that I’ve spent 10 years to understand.
Us public landers are an odd bunch. We live on a razors edge. On one side advocating, “access for the masses,” yet at the same time pathologically hiding our hard earned secrets. I’m so secretive that I’m pretty sure I’ve lost friends because of my unwillingness to share. If I’m being honest only 2, maybe 3 people in my life know half of what I know about my sections. On the other side of that knife, I am also am the first person to tell folks, “the information is out there.” Go find the maps, see what jumps out at you, and grab 10,000 hours on your boots.
This year with most of us not working due to COVID, I find myself struggling. Not with Turkeys who refuse to commit. Who Refuse to gobble. Who somehow spot me even in some of my best set ups I’ve ever had. No, my struggles are with people. Six different trucks at a trailhead that should only be able to handle 2 hunters. Hikers, dog walkers, campers, all of these things put extra stress on deer and turkeys that were already pretty stressed. The angriest part of all is that, I can’t be angry.
We all own it. We all can use it. The more of us using it the more awareness we have to keep it. I recognize the positives. I will be the first to tote the flag of public lands because without it, I would’ve had to quit hunting as an adult. Still, its hard to watch a spot get loved to death.
So if you have a glass, raise it up! Lets toast to the cold mornings, sweaty afternoons, the hits, the many misses, the “I was this close’s”, and the “he’ll be a dandy next year’s”. For the memories, the lessons learned and the time well wasted are the greatest trophies we as outdoors people take with us. So let’s not mourn the death of my favorite spot. Let’s celebrate it’s life.
Salud.
A Day in the Field 