A Year in the Life of an American Sportsman

By Xlibris US

In A Year in the Life of an American Sportsman, Ken Baxter captures the essence of what "enjoying the great outdoors" can mean to each of us. By sharing a year's adventures and corresponding stories from his youth in a different era and geographic area, Ken provides insight into the comical experiences, benefits, and camaraderie that are shared by all hunting and fishing enthusiasts. It answers the question regularly posed to hunters and fishermen everywhere, "Why do you do it?"

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 26, 2014
• ISBN: 9781499047813

Book preview

A Year in the Life of an American Sportsman

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Ken Baxter

Copyright © 2014 by Ken Baxter.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2014912226

ISBN:      Hardcover      978-1-4990-4782-0

                Softcover        978-1-4990-4783-7

                eBook             978-1-4990-4781-3

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 07/22/2014

Xlibris LLC

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

619529

CONTENTS

Why Do We Do It?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

This book is dedicated to my late father, Dudley Baxter, who taught me to hunt, fish and how to be a man.

I would like to express my appreciation to Dr. Loren

Logsdon, Dave Woodward, Joanie and Blake Baxter, and Sarah Gardner for editing and again to Sarah for the cover design.

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My dad with one of his deer in 1991.

WHY DO WE DO IT?

A s long as I can remember, I have had a huge interest in hunting, fishing and most outdoor related activities. One of my earliest memories was a portion of a fishing trip with my family. I was probably only three or four years old. My mother carefully strapped on a bright orange life jacket onto my bony body before I joined her, my father, and 12 year old brother in our 12 foot aluminum boat. Looking back, I am not sure how we all fit. I was an especially active child and soon was moving around in the boat. I climbed into the section behind the back seat and became very interested in the small black thing with the end shaped like a ring. My little fingers pulled hard on the ring just as my father landed a nice crappie. It seemed interesting that water seemed to shoot into the boat from the place where the ring had been. Disaster was averted when my brother exclaimed, You better do something, he has pulled the plug! My mother replaced the plug and I endured much scolding from both parents regarding something called drowning. I was not sure what it was but understood to avoid pulling that ring at all cost.

As I grew up, I found that our whole year seemed to revolve around the outdoors. We started fishing in Southeast Arkansas as soon as the weather permitted in March. We fished in one of the local lakes for crappie and as it became warmer, blue gill (bream) and catfish. Occasionally, we interrupted our fishing for turkey hunting in April. The best times included camping at the lake and running trot lines and yo yos (spring action, automatic fisherman units that are tied to tree limbs that hang over the water) throughout the night. By mid-summer, the lake water became too hot and we switched to the Mississippi River and several of the lakes that were fed by the river. Some of these lakes offered better bass fishing. Throughout fishing season, we were often joined by my mother at a location close to one of the lakes for an early evening weenie roast. I dearly loved to sit around a fire and cook hot dogs and marshmallows. By the first of September, fishing gave way to the opening of dove season followed by one of the most anticipated dates, October 1, the opening of squirrel season. We enjoyed hunting squirrels each Saturday until mid-November when an even bigger event happened, deer season. My father, who was paid only when he worked, even took off several days to hunt deer. There was no school on the first day of the season and sometimes, if I made good grades, I was allowed to take a couple of additional days off of school. By December we had begun to duck hunt and one of my favorite activities, rabbit hunting. Rabbit season lasted until mid-February and by that time we were forced to take a break. We received our outdoor fix during these slow times by following the adventures of Curt Gowdy each week on The American Sportsman! I often imagined myself hunting moose and caribou in Canada, or catching marlin somewhere in the Pacific. Life was pretty good.

I never considered why I was so interested in outdoor activities. Most everyone I knew until I went to college had similar thoughts. Most of the males in my extended family and most of my father’s friends regarded hunting and fishing just as I did. These types of activities most likely placed second on the list of topics discussed with my middle school and high school buddies, ahead of sports and behind our favorite topic, girls. We were camping and operating boats on our own by the age of 13. The college years brought contact with different people who had not grown up in the same environment. I developed other interests and adapted as I moved to different states and different jobs. Sometimes I was able to enjoy outdoor activities and sometimes I was not. I was able to replace some outdoor experiences with others, but I have always been a hunter and fisherman at heart. I enjoy playing golf but on each golf course I visit, I pay careful attention to the lakes, streams and ponds. My first thought is, Are there fish in that lake? followed by, How could I ever fish here? Snow skiing is a ton of fun! You can travel fast down a mountain and enjoy beautiful scenery. I catch myself wondering what types of wildlife inhabit the area and when hunting season begins. On trips to Wal Mart, I often find myself drawn to the outdoors sections. The camping sections are always especially interesting even though I have not put up a tent in several years.

Over the years, non-hunting friends have asked, Why do you like hunting so much? Non-fishermen have pointed out that they can purchase fish for a reasonable price and that these purchases do not require a large investment of time, equipment, or exposure to weather. I have never been able to really adequately explain why we do it. It could have something to do with the desire to fully experience the world of nature. Maybe it is some type of effort to connect with our ancestors who depended on hunting and fishing for survival for them and their families. Maybe it gives us a sense of accomplishment or provides relaxation. Maybe it has more to do, as for me, with our personal heritage. I am really not sure. To address this question, I decided to keep track of all of my outdoor activities for a whole year and see if this record and its examination could provide some answers. Hopefully these adventures, paired with adventures from my earlier life will answer these questions not only for me but for others. If not, maybe it will provide an alternative to The American Sportsman!

CHAPTER 1

I awoke as my father nudged me with his elbow. He spoke in a low whisper, " Wake up; I think that I am going to shoot that one."

I was just a little over five years old and for the first time, my father had brought me with him to his deer stand. It was not opening day. That adventure would not take place for about three years, but I had been excited to get up way before daylight, ride to the deer camp and enjoy a large country breakfast in the club house. I was kind of surprised to put on what seemed to be way too many clothes but it was worth it to trudge through the woods behind my dad and climb up a ladder some 10 feet to what appeared to be a large treehouse. The deer stand sat atop tall poles and was attached to a large pecan tree. My dad took his place in a chair and positioned me into a snug location right behind him in a fork of the tree. He had already warned me several times that I must be very quiet and look for deer. I took this seriously but soon, the short night, large meal, warm clothes, and comfortable perch combined to make it difficult to keep my eyes open.

See him right over there? My dad whispered.

"Sure" I said, still not fully aware of what was happening.

I watched as my father slowly pulled up his 308 rifle and held it to his shoulder for what seemed like forever. Just before he pulled the trigger, I saw the buck. It was a thing of beauty. BOOM! The rifle roared. Even though I knew the loud exploding sound was about to happen, I still almost fell out of the tree. I followed my dad down the ladder and found a large eight point buck about 80 yards from the stand.

"So this is hunting," I thought.

January 5, 2013

I was invited to participate in a pheasant hunt in Marshall County, just north of Toluca, IL. Pheasant hunting has long been a popular activity in the Midwest and Illinois in particular. I have read many accounts, heard a ton of stories, and even seen some great photographs of successful pheasant hunting in Illinois. The problem is, almost all of the stories involving wild birds are from over 20 years ago. The 1960s through the 1980s seem to have been great times. By the time I moved to the state in 1993, wild birds, good habitat, and places to hunt were in short supply. The largest reason for this change was the methods of modern farming. In the past, farms contained fence rows with grass and brush on each side, creeks and waterways with abundant cover and even small patches of unused space that were allowed to grow great cover for pheasant, and in some areas, quail. In today’s world, a much larger percentage of the land is tilled and planted. The corresponding loss of habitat led to a huge reduction of pheasant hunting. The few places that do remain viable are often on private property and not available to random individuals looking for a place to hunt.

The void in habitat and loss of birds has been addressed by desperate outdoor enthusiasts with the use of pen-raised birds.