Spring in the Ozarks

      This likely being my final spring semester I felt it necessary to go out and do something for spring break. My first thought was to try and go camping somewhere and when a couple of my roommates showed interest in joining me I got started researching all of our options. March in Minnesota is cold and I think we were all looking for a little bit more adventure. We considered going out West to places such as Yellowstone but the cost and time necessary to travel made it quite impossible. We looked at the Black Hills and the Badlands as possibilities but South Dakota's ban on campfires on public lands made it hard to imagine going there. We finally decided to head South to Missouri or Arkansas. Both states have millions of acres of National Forest land on which most forms of recreation are free of charge. After weighing our options we decided to head for a cheap campsite in the heart of the Ozark National Forest in Northern Arkansas.

        We drove down during the night and arrived at the campsite about an hour before sunrise. We slept in the car as we waited for the sun to appear. Once there was plenty of light and we assumed most of the other campers would be awake, we started to set up camp. There were three of us, each of us with our own tent. We arranged a tarp over the wooden table, set up our folding chairs and then attempted to find out what in the world we are going to do. This trip was a spur of the moment idea. We came down prepared with equipment but not with a plan of how we were going to spend our time. As we drove back from town picking up some firewood we drove by the Forest Service office and we stopped in to get some ideas. The woman at the desk in her khaki shirt and pants and thick, southern drawl told us of a hike with stunning views.

        After quite a long drive on winding paved roads that turned slick, dark red and muddy we reached a parking lot with dozens of cars. I was amazed to see so many vehicles seemingly so far away from any other towns. The three of us began our hike on the well-worn path, passing groups of college kids, couples and families. There was little sign of spring yet, some bushes had began to bud and some grasses were green but the trees were absent of leaves. The mix of overcast sky with the brown leaves on the ground and limbs of trees did not make the landscape appear particularly inviting. After continuing down the path for a mile or so we crossed a stream that babbled across boulders and then fell off a series of cliffs. With a camera in hand, a tripod strapped to my backpack and my friends knowledge of photography we began taking a number of pictures experimenting in order to change the look of the stream in each photo.

         As we began to climb back to the top to start hiking again, I decided to take a detour. I saw that their was another platform of rock with some grass and trees further down the face of the bluff. The problem was that the only way to reach it from my vantage point was to shuffle across the ledge as it narrowed from several feet wide to a mere four inches. I have always loved testing my ability to find firm rocks and footholds to trust at the risk of falling down, in this case at least 30 feet (and yet I have no desire to go rock climbing). And so, I started my way across to the other side but something happened halfway across. I was feeling comfortable, making sure I had sturdy places to set my feet  and other places to grab the cliff face with my hands. but at one point, I suddenly felt top-heavy. I could feel my body weight shifting backwards, I reached for the limestone in front of me, feeling flakes coming off of it. Somehow I was able to grasp some piece of rock and stabilize myself but now I had adrenaline flowing throughout my body. I was not out of the dark yet and I needed to be able to control myself until I found a place to rest. I quickly made my way to the other platform and regained my composure. I heard someone once propose the idea that because of the society we live in we encounter fewer risks within our lives, yet we still unknowingly desire to have the same overall risk as our forefathers. I can see how this could be true and how it manifests itself in a variety of ways. For me, I enjoy going hunting with deadly weapons, going camping in sub-zero temperatures without the comforts of my home, walking along cliffs without any railings or gear to prevent me from falling to the bottom. Risk is an interesting topic and I have come to believe that there is a healthy amount that each one of us needs in our lives.

         Continuing down the path that bordered the bluff's edge, we suddenly found what everyone was looking for. A large rock formation jutted out 20 or so feet beyond the cliff. We walked out, sat down and looked over the valley full of trees that appeared dead, but knowing that within a month or so the landscape would be changed completely, bursting in color and new life. We spent the next couple of days cooking this winter's deer steaks and other foods over an open fire, exploring new areas and enjoying the warmer, if not warm, weather of the South, content simply with His Creation and each other's company in a new and exciting place.

A Place

            Today, I want to step back and reflect on not solely a single experience but a rather a place. One that left a feeling of wildness in my soul. The area is in Northeastern Iowa where my mother was born and raised. I have visited there with my dad on several occasions, typically to hunt and fish for trout. With bluffs that rise from the ground as well as winding streams and rivers that flow beneath them, it is certainly one of the most scenic parts of the state. Over the last year I have returned by myself to this area a couple times as I traveled to and from Iowa. Each time, I spent one night camping in the Yellow River State Forest which is an 8500 acre piece of land that is full of places to camp and hike. The second time I went was July of 2016.

When I arrived at the campground I was happy to see that there were plenty of open sites and that I would be able to have some solitude for the evening. The following day I was going to be continuing my drive down to a Christian youth camp to be a counselor where I would most certainly not have much time to myself during that week. After parking my car I began setting up my tent, hammock and whatever else I would need for the night. After a restful evening of walking along the trout stream, reading in my hammock and siting by the campfire I went to bed for the night listening to the crisp, high-pitched howls of the coyotes as they as they sang their goodnights to one another. I doubt this was because they were going to bed but rather their night had only just begun.

When I woke up the following morning there was not a stir in the air. As I was deep down in the valley, surrounded by rising hills covered with the thick foliage of a hardwood forest the wind was very seldom felt from where I was staying. Before the sun had made its presence fully known I began to pack up camp. There was not a peep that came from any of the other campsites as I finished loading the car. The only noises came from the music of the song birds and the gurgling of the stream as it rushed over rocks polished by this constant flow of water. I was not in a hurry to leave this place, I just wanted to experience this state forest in its true beauty.

I slowly drove over the gravel road past the tents and campers that housed the still sleeping families. I drove down the road about half a mile and started my ascent up to one of the highest points in the area. Half way up the hill a white-tailed doe stopped in the middle of the road in front of me. Her red summer coat perfect in the low-light of dawn. I drove closer and she walked into the woods a few yards, turned around and looked at me as I rolled down the window to take some photos. Eventually we were force to part ways and I continued my slow drive up the steep, washed-out road. When I reached the end of the road I was relieved to see that no one else had beat me, I had the spot and all its beauty to myself. The site was simply a lookout point that was situated on a bluff that overlooked the main valley of the state forest. I opened my trunk, got out my mini stove, some water and a freeze dried package of biscuits and gravy. Thanks to my early start I was in no hurry, I had the next 10 hours to make a two hour drive, so here in Creation I took my sweet time. As I sat with my legs dangling over the bluff, looking out across the valley into a stream certainly full of rainbow and brook trout, I made breakfast.

That morning, I could have ground up dead sticks to eat and that meal would still have been one my favorites. As I prepared breakfast I could hear the soft yelps of a hen turkey as her and her flock moved through the woods foraging for food. On the edge of the field below me I saw a doe and her two newborn fawns headed to the creek for a cool drink of water. The birds continued to praise the new morning, singing to everything that it represents. In this moment of solitude, filling my stomach with the warm, salty mush that is freeze dried foods, I am convinced that close to nothing could have made it better. There was no sense of time, nor was my head full of tasks and items that I needed to accomplish. I had the luxury of being able to sit back and enjoy what God has provided for us and what the public lands of this country are able to preserve.

As I picked up my trash, began to put away my camera and stove the sun continued to rise. The magic of dawn was gone, it was time to start the day. The birds stopped singing but were now off foraging for food. The doe and her fawns would certainly be looking for a place to lie by now. For me it was time to leave this place. I drove awfully slow as I left that state forest. Taking in all that it had to offer. Believe me when I say that this is no national park or wilderness area, one must long to see just what this landscape has to offer. But, when you find it, that something resonates deep within your soul, there is no other place that you would rather be.

Driving out of the valley I realized why this place means so much to me and hopefully others as well. Everywhere around that forest is agricultural land. Corn and soybeans dominate the Iowan landscape in just about every part of the start including Northeastern Iowa. When one drives down into the Yellow River State Forest it is like taking a step back in time away from the row crops and farmhouses. The preservation of this landscape provides people the opportunity to experience a little piece of the wild that is simply absent from much of our daily lives and also from much of my home state of Iowa. We have no Yellowstone or Boundary Waters Canoe Area or Everglades. All it takes is a little 8500 acre piece of multiple use land to satisfy the desire to find God simply by being in Creation. Having experiences in places like this gives a person the ability not only to reflect back on something beautiful but also something to look forward to again in the future.

A Getaway Hunt

       Today I write from the library of my university, during the last week before finals. With a crammed schedule, lots of studying and even more consumption of caffeine, I should have spent this past weekend studying for exams, writing research papers and preparing presentations. Instead I spent 10 hours in the car going home and hunting the opening day of Iowa's shotgun season. Leaving Friday from the Twin Cities I arrived at home in time to have dinner with some of the family and arrange all of my hunting equipment for the following morning. Getting up around 5:00 am, my Father and I were on the road half and hour later and by 6:00 we met up with my Dad's friend, Roger, who he has hunted with for years. We headed to the same farm that I tagged the two deer nearly a year ago, (those stories can be seen below).
          Upon arrival I dropped Roger and Dad off on one end of the farm and headed to the other. Our plan was to sit along likely travel routes of deer. We would sit for around three hours during the early hours of the morning when deer are still active and moving towards their daytime bedding areas. As I made my way towards my spot I saw half a dozen or so deer feeding on a harvested soybean field on the opposite side of the valley of me. As I began to walk along the draw of timber I saw two white tails bouncing through the timber in the lowlight of the predawn. The deer appeared to be anywhere. I found a place to set my stool under a tree stand we have set up in the area. It is what I would consider a 'pinch-point'. Two creeks and fingers of timber join a large stream and create a relatively large piece of timber. Behind me is a hillside covered in native plants, across the main stream channel is a standing cornfield. Dad sat in between one of the creeks and the cornfield in thick woods and shrubs to the North of me and Roger on the far North fence line.
         I was still arranging all of the gear I had drug down to my spot. I got the tripod and camera set up in case I had time to get video of a deer as it came close enough for a shot. I got my binoculars, water, gloves and anything else I might need during the sit spread out around me. I had just put my facemask on and was still making a lot of commotion when I looked to my left. All I could see was the body of a deer. The head was concealed by trees and other brush. Both of us stayed motionless for 30 seconds or so and finally the deer moved. With enough experience with deer, I could tell that the flick of the tail and the body motion that followed meant that this deer was not overly disturbed by what he saw. When he moved I also saw that this was a small buck.

         I want to take a moment to talk about something that I have thought about quite a bit lately. I had greatly considered letting bucks of a lower antler size go past me without taking a shot, but considering the very limited time and opportunity I had during this season I opted to go ahead and fill my tag with a deer that had yet to reach its full antler and body size potential. To some, the idea of waiting for a 'big buck' is considered trophy hunting. This misconception and the way that it is used frustrates me on many levels. First, every animal I have ever taken is a trophy. Not because killing something is worth celebrating but because that animal represents the hunt and the journey that I was on that led me to that animal. These 'trophies' are for no one but myself because it reminds me of my experiences. Secondly, the reason that I have passed on younger bucks in the past is to allow myself the possible opportunity of taking a larger deer and also letting that buck hopefully live at least another year and grow to be even bigger. I have been fortunate to take many deer over the years, but two reason that a hunter would wait for a mature buck to shoot is because of the difficulty in harvesting one and the fact that they are amazing representatives of their species. The older a buck gets, generally the smarter and harder they are to kill. For me, and many other hunters, it provides a challenge and often prolongs the hunting experience, allowing us to spend more time in Creation. Back to the story.

          As soon as the buck started moving I grabbed my shotgun off my lap and waited for a clear shot opportunity. Knowing I had some time before the deer would come into view again I turned on my camera hoping to film the action. Just as I did this I heard the snort a deer makes when it detects danger in the area. I wheeled around to my left to hear the crashing of brush and see multiple deer scattering in every direction. This is where I originally expected the deer to come from that morning but this buck had distracted me from watching that area. Without a shot opportunity I turned back to where the buck had been standing and saw that he had whirled around, stopped broadside and was about take off. I centered the sights behind his shoulder at 50 yards and pulled the trigger. He ran! Deer were seemingly everywhere, running all over and I was unable to maintain focus on what happened to the buck. I sat down and attempted to refocus.
         I waited for the sun to finally light the area up and I headed over in the direction that the deer was standing. I found white hair and immediately my stomach sank. White hair is not found anywhere near where I was aiming and often it means that the deer was hit low. I found blood. At first it was pinkish in a way I've never seen before but as I continued it turned dark red and I was struggling to find much blood at all but a few spots here and there. I decided to go and wait until I met up with Dad and Roger before I tracked it further. Around 9:30 I heard shots come from their directions. I knew both had shot because I could hear the distinction between the sound of the shots. It turns out that the deer that had spooked right before I had shot had slowly made their way to my Dad where he bagged a deer, and then they ran to Roger where he got one as well. Around 10 o'clock I made my way towards them and listened to their stories and told them mine. We headed back to the last place I had seen blood. My dad and I tracked the scarce drops out of the woods and up a hill into a native brushy area. Roger went ahead in case the deer was still alive and bedded and tried to leave. We were about 100 yards from where the deer was standing when I shot when Rogers says "there he is". 20 yards in front of me lay a big bodied, six-point, whitetail buck. All three of us had filled a tag on our morning sit, no doubt a successful one.
          After field dressing the buck we went into town, grabbed a bite to eat and headed back into the field to fill the one remaining tag. We slowly walked the property and after seeing lots of deer and a few miscues on where I should have been my dad filled the tag. This was certainly one of the most action-packed days of deer hunting I have been apart of in a while, and the many miles I drove for one day of hunting were well worth it. I can now focus my time and effort on schoolwork until I head home for Christmas break and can look forward to the
muzzleloader deer season.

An Afton Evening

      Over the last month or so I have visited Afton State Park several times. One weekend and a friend and I went and camped there and I have since been back to hike around, photograph and search for rutting bucks. I have yet to find any such bucks but have been able to get some beautiful pictures and footage of deer and other wildlife.

Camping and Backpacking

***See Below for Corresponding Photos***         

        Recently I got the bug to go out and do some hiking/camping or backpacking. I bought all of the necessary equipment this winter and was waiting for the appropriate weather to head out. Finally last week I saw an opportunity with decently warm temps for mid-February and planned on heading out on my own. I mentioned my plan to my RA, Tim, who jumped on the chance to spend sometime in the outdoors. While researching places to go I found out that in Minnesota's state forests it is perfectly legal to set up camp nearly anywhere one would like. Not far from the Mississippi River in Southeast Minnesota we found a state forest that had a camp site near the road. We decided to use this because Tim did not have the gear to pack up into the hills.
          One of the intriguing factors of this particular spot was topography or elevation change. It was common to climb several hundred feet in elevation over a very short span, This was bluff country. Saturday morning Tim and I set out for the campsite and had our tent up and had gathered firewood by noon. After a short break we headed off into the woods on the North side of the road. Through the gaps in the tree cover we could see the top of a bluff and decided on that being our destination. An hour later found us winded, but looking over a large stretch of the Mississippi River Valley. After a rescue mission for Tim's missing water bottle we headed back into the brush to continue our hike. We made a large loop and eventually found ourselves back at the vehicle after about three hours. Along the way we came across lots of sign of deer and small game and continuously heard the hoot of a nearby owl. After a campfire and some brats we headed to bed as we listened to the not-so-distant chorus of coyote howls. With lows in the mid-20's I woke up freezing and decided that nothing but a long hike would help to warm me up. I set off for one of the peaks that looked over the valley floor that Tim was still sleeping on. A half-hour later I was sitting on jagged rock, looking for miles, catching my breath and watching the sunrise light up the east-facing slopes. After taking some photos, I headed back down and started preparing a fire as Tim woke. It was a great, and very cold, way to spend a weekend.

         Early this week my roommate, Collin, found himself with the same bug that I had this winter. He went out and also bought the necessary equipment to do some backpacking. This weekend promised lows approaching 40 degrees in the same area and Saturday morning found myself and Collin driving to the same state forest but with a much different agenda. We arrived at the same parking lot but did not camp there. We packed up our bags and headed off into the woods. After looking over some ariel photos I saw some very open spots on the top of a ridge next to the peak I had climbed not six days earlier. After an exhausting, sweaty, one-hour climb through thick cover Collin and I reached the ridge, set our packs down and set off exploring the area for the prospective campsite. What we found could not have been any better. In the midst of a long line of planted pine trees reaching forty feet into the air we found an open area barren of snow and ice. All we had to do was cut down the dead branches that reached their long arms into the middle of the site and brush away the pinecones. We kicked the needles away to expose dirt in order to have a safe fire ring. After an hour of setting up tents we collected enough firewood to last the evening. The setting was absolutely perfect. The pines provided shelter from the elements while keeping us free of the omnipresent snow, ice and mud. At one o'clock we grabbed our walking sticks, which we made with a machete, and set out for an adventurous hike which lasted about three hours and covered between 5-6 miles of fields, pine trees, deciduous forest and prairies. We made it back to camp a little after four and had a snack and drank lots of water. Collin and I each took a break in our tents and right before sunset we went our separate ways to get some pictures and check a few things out. Earlier on our hike we heard what sounded like a coyote pup howling in the woods, the problem? This time of year there would be no coyotes making that high-pitched of a sound. About this time a hunter decked out in full camo and carrying a high-power rifle came walked by a gave us a polite wave. Throughout the evening we heard that same lost coyote pup howling from all over the area. No shots were heard telling us that each of the canines in that part of the woods made it another day.
          At sunset we ate brats over a fire of which we had collected all of its wood.  We kept it small and made it last well into the night until the wind began to pick up. I stomped out the last of the dying embers and tucked myself into my sleeping bag. I woke up the next morning much warmer than I had been the last trip and we hurriedly packed all of our gear because the forecast promised rain and snow in the coming hours. Needless to say, the trip down the steep hill was much more enjoyable and in less than a third of the time it took us to find camp, we had reached my vehicle. Although I enjoyed last weeks experience, this week's expedition was incredibly rewarding! From carrying all of our gear up hundreds of feet, to finding a suitable campsite, to cutting and sawing our own wood the hard work made the entire trip that much more enjoyable and also left me a little bit more sore. On the way back home I mentioned to Collin that if he saw any bald eagles near the road I would love to try to get some pictures. On the way to camp we made a stop and saw dozens of them populating the Mississippi Valley. Shortly after I said this we saw a pair sitting in a tree next to the river. I grabbed my camera and snuck towards the eagles. Soon I could see 30 or 40 eagles on the ice, in the trees and flying in the air trying to pluck fish from the river. I snuck to within only several yards of our national bird and was gifted with some of my favorite photos I have taken. The last two weekends have been just as educational as enjoyable and I cannot wait for my next opportunity to experience God's creation in such an intimate way.