BJ's First Turkey            by Lynette Whorley

It Was Sunday ...           by Lynette Whorley

Solitude Thoughts          by Bob Hendricks

The Perfect Funnel        by Mark W. Lowry

A Mother's Dream Pt. 1 - B.J.'s First Deer         by Lynette Whorley

A Mother's Dream Pt. 2 - Tyler's First Deer        by Lynette Whorley (article published in Adventure Sports Outdoors Magazine, Feb. 2007)

Virginia Tech Massacre   by Ted Nugent (article published in Adventure Sports Outdoors Magazine, May 2007)

There's More to Hunting than the Hunt              by Lynette Whorley (article published in Adventure Sports Outdoors Magazine, April 2007)

Who Says You Can't Get Close to Gobblers in the Spring?   by Lynette Whorley (article published in Adventure Sports Outdoors Magazine, May 2007)

Can We Go Fishing Today?  by Lynette Whorley (article published in Adventure Sports Outdoors Magazine, June 2007)

Experience Dove Hunting with Neighbors and Feeling Like Pro's   by Lynette Whorley (article published in Adventure Sports Outdoors Magazine, Oct. 2007)

Pray Hard, Play Hard ... 19 Years Later   by Lynette Whorley (article published in Adventure Sports Outdoors Magazine, Feb. 2008)

My Friend Kip   by Lynette Whorley (article published in Adventure Sports Outdoors Magazine, June 2008)

It was Thursday May 4th and I decided to take off work early and take my oldest son for an afternoon hunt.  It was hot this particular day, but he was off from school, so I thought I would surprise him.  We walked and walked and I would call some and we heard nothing.  I could see he was getting bored and not understanding why we were even attempting to hunt.  In Virginia, you can hunt all day the last 12 days of the season.  So, it is a little unusual to hunt in the heat of the day.  I told him that hunting is all about timing and perhaps we could catch a glimpse of a nice long beard going to feed or drink water.  I also tried to explain to him that hunting is about “putting your time in” the field, so to speak.  I feel that if I can just teach him some of the fundamentals of hunting like friends and family have told me, that he will be educated on hunting.  

So, we decided to call it quits for the day.  I usually have things I want to do if I am off, like clean the house, or get groceries.  However, I think back to the fact that someone obviously invested time in me and that is how I got hooked.  So I try to spend some quality time with my son. 

B.J. was also off the next day, which was Friday May 5^th.  I was planning on going hunting myself that morning and I would have taken BJ, but Thursday night he asked if he could go listen to see if he could hear a bird with a family friend.  Kevin Sly took him and my middle son, Tyler, to listen.  They rode to my father-in-law’s “home place” we call it, on the farm, which is located in a field down by a river.  They listened for a minute and heard a few birds gobbling going to roost.  They drove out quietly and decided to go back at 5:30 am the next morning.  I was a little down, because I really wanted to be with BJ for a morning hunt, because there is such a better change of harvesting a bird early. 

I almost went back and got my video camera to just go and film.  But, then I remembered that things happen for a reason and I had already planned to go with a friend of mine.  I told B.J. later that some of my best times in the woods were when I had no camera and not a lot of calls, just me there waiting on the woods to wake up.  I did not want to jinx things with being over prepared.  So, I told him good luck and call me if he gets the big one. 

I too was in my spot at 5:45 and at 6:14, I heard a shot over where they were.  Since we have a hunt club, it could have been someone else, but I just keep sitting there with this funny feeling.  My cell phone rang at 6:20 and it was BJ saying, “Mom, I got one!”  I will never forget how that sounded over the phone and how excited he was.  I said a prayer thanking the good Lord for sending BJ that bird.  Kevin said that BJ actually got to see it come in and it flew across the river and up to the knoll where they were sitting and he got a really good look at it at 35 yards.  It triple gobbled and was strutting.

BJ said he held the gun up and was shaking some and he would look away to breath and catch his breath.  He held the gun steady for 2 minutes or so and when the bird let his fan down, he shot.  It was incredible hearing Kevin tell me about the hunt and my parents came over and I can not explain the feeling of having my husband and his parents and my parents and myself, BJ, Kevin and my friend, Andy, standing around the truck listening to the hunt and knowing that this is what make memories that last forever.  I said to my Mom, “This is good times.”   She was excited, too.  I just hope I live long enough to experience hunts with my other two sons.  That would complete me. 

I want to give a special thanks to Kevin for investing time in BJ and making that a special day for him.

 

It was Easter Sunday, April 16^th.  We had just eaten a wonderful dinner and I asked my husband (Barry) if we could take a ride around the farm.  It was myself and my youngest son who is 3 and my parents.  As we were riding around, we came upon this one field and my mother said; “Hey, there’s a turkey!”  I couldn’t believe that my Mom spotted it first.  But she did and we got within 100 yards of it and you could hear it gobble and it was definitely a mature bird.  It must have gobbled for 15 minutes at my husband’s calling and even the horn.  He was definitely looking for a hen! 

So, we all just thought that we needed to get out of there as quietly as we could and I would go back in the morning and see if it would come back out of the woods into the field.  I got up at 5:00 and was in the woods by 5:45.  My friend, Andy, loves to come and hunt and listen to the birds, so he came and decided to video.  The bird gobbled right at 6:05 and he continued for 10 minutes.  We put the decoys out as the sun was coming up and we could hear that he sounded like he was on the ground facing us.  I just happened to look all the way down the fence line by the hardwoods and I saw him coming up the field.  I held my gun up and just waited for him.  He came in gobbling and strutting and put on a real show.  I watched him for a minute at 25 yards and then put the shot on at 6:31AM.  I knew the Lord made this possible for me, but I also knew that this was found for me especially by my mother and that made the whole hunt so special.  She is more understanding of me now more than ever … I think she used to not be able to see why it was so important for me to go hunting, but now she understands and looks for turkeys all the time, and that makes me smile.  My Dad and husband just know that it is a part of my life that hopefully will never change.

 

I have just finished the first part of the Illinois firearms deer season.  I awoke this morning aching in more places than I can count.  It wouldn't be an age thing would it?  Naw I still got a lot of miles to go!  I probably just laid wrong while sleeping, yeah, that's it.

The first day was very pleasant.  I did not expect to see many deer because of the thinning out that is going on in seven Northern counties where Chronic Wasting Disease has been found.  Surely there could not be that many deer left I thought, since the area is not over run as it is.  I conceded to myself that a deer hunter, a true deer hunter, hunts even when the odds say that he won't do that well, and this old hunter has to look  himself in the mirror in the morning and how could I do that knowing I gave up before the hunt began?

I donned my blaze orange vest over my camo bibs and jacket as required by law and put on my blaze orange stocking cap and stepped out into the dark morning for a day of adventure.

It was just getting light as I walked to the field to where I have a ground blind.  I froze in my tracks as I saw a sly little song dog (coyote) frozen as well about 150 yards ahead of me.  He was out for his hunt as well but he wore a fluffy brown colored hunting coat.  In a minute or so he ran into the woods where my ground blind is located.

This ground blind I use every year.  It really is just four metal posts in the ground with camo burlap fastened draped around the four posts creating a camo wall that blends in perfectly with the surrounding trees.  It overlooks a large field, nothing can pass on this end of the farm without me seeing it.  It has a wooden skid and a plastic lawn chair sitting on the skid and with a bunn saver (tushy cushion) it is quite comfortable.  I call it the mercy blind after all the deer God has allowed me to kill out of it, his mercy is truly awesome.

The woods is still fairly quiet but soon is awakened to a new day as squirrels scamper in the trees and I can hear their little toe nails scratching and climbing on the trees, this is how I know it is not the sound of a deer.  The crows begin their day with boisterous bragging as they talk crow to one another perhaps planning their own hunt for some road carcass somewhere.

I decide to blow the grunt call that hangs around my neck.  I make a series of soft buck grunts and then quit.  It is good to be alive.  The chirping birds busy themselves hunting for seeds and picking this limb and that leaf always looking at something or for something.

I hear a noise to my left, too loud for a bird, not the toe nails of a squirrel, maybe, could it be a deer?  I am frozen as though in a VCR pause mode as I watch to my immediate left.  I do not move and I can feel the adrenaline begin to course through my body.  First there is a grey head and then the front shoulders, can it be?  This close?  It is a deer slowly emerging out of the heavily brushed lane to my left.  I lift the  Mossberg 9200 semi auto 12 gauge with scope to my shoulder.  I look through the scope, never daring to make any sudden movement.  The deer is so close I can hardly believe it.  No not yet!  There is a branch in the way, the deer pauses, it seems like hours but it is only seconds.  He then walks out and my cross hairs in my scope instinctively find the spot behind his shoulder and the slug gun shatters the morning  stillness with the roar of a  cannon.  The deer flips in the air a clear indication the slug has found its mark.  He runs down the field and drops.  I give him some time just in case.  Experience tells me that a downed deer can get right back up and have on occasion so I wait and keep the gun trained on him.

I stand over the deer and experience a full spectrum of emotions.  Elation, 100 proof adrenaline, pity, sadness, respect, thankfulness as I thank God for his blessing that he has so miraculously brought to me this day in this field while the world carries out its daily grind.  I am transported in time not that distant from the early pioneers when a man hunted for his food and took responsibility for taking its life.  Meat did not come pre-killed and pre-packaged in those days.  A part of me deeper than I can fathom in my spirit reconnects to that primal feeling of the hunter.

I admire the deer, the brown coat that camouflages so well with the surrounding woods, the beauty of the animal that I respect so much.  This is the great mystery to those who don't understand but a true hunter loves and respects the animal that he kills for food.  There is no anger, no malice towards the animal, only a hunter's instinct and a sense of completion to the hunt with the promise of good healthy meat for the table this winter.

I tag the animal with my Illinois deer tag affixed to its antler.  It is not a wallhanger buck but I could care less.  I have a few of them on my wall at home but it is so much more than that.  I get disgusted with some of the modern day videos where they make every hunt a hunt for once in a lifetime bucks and make hunters feel that they are less than normal if they are not harvesting such animals.  Instead of did you get your deer, they immediately ask what will he score?  They have missed it in my opinion, the hunt is so much more than that and every deer whether doe or buck is a trophy when taken legally and fairly.

Now the work begins as I pull out the knife my son gave me many years ago for Christmas. This knife has field dressed (gutted) more deer than I can count.  I have worked a good sharp edge on the knife beforehand just for this very moment.  I kneel down and somehow my knees don't bend as easily as they did not that long ago.  Old age? Naw, I probably just was stiff from the way I slept last night, yeah that is it.

I grunt and wheeze which reminds me of the bronchitis that has once again taken up a temporary residence in my lungs and cut, and pull and manage to get the deer field dressed.  I do not claim to be a surgeon in this area of expertise but my work is passable and the meat processors will accept the carcass once this chore has been done.

I tug at the 150 plus pound deer and get it into the back of my truck.  Man that is one beautiful sight, I mean a truck ain't a truck until it has carried the carcass of a deer in the back.  I look at the sight in adoration feeling very, very, blessed as I take a bottle of water and try to clean my hands and put the knife back in its scabbard for another day.

I am somehow warmer now, even sweating as I haul my own self into my pickup and drive out of the field feeling like a million dollars.

Because of the Chronic Wasting Disease we hunters in the Northern part of the state still have to go to the check station to check our deer in and a sample is taken from the deer that will determine if it has CWD.  We are informed later if it is positive.  I love going to the check stations because I get to see the other deer that are brought in and each one fascinates me as we exchange stories with other hunters.  The DNR gives me a deer  pin.  All successul hunters will get a pin to show that they were successful in getting their deer.  I treasure my pins and they are mounted in a frame and each pin brings back memories of that year's  hunt.  Some were freezing cold, some warm, some very tough, some like a miracle with the deer coming out of nowhere though I know God sends them.  The pin is a different color every year and it has the head of a buck embossed over the outline of the state of Illinois and the current year on it.  I would not take anything for mine and walk away with a smile when handed one.  I talk briefly with one of the DNR biologists that I know and he tells me they are in their fourth year of the CWD study out of a five year study.

I take my prize to the meat locker and unload it and answer those wonderful questions of how do you want your deer cut up, Bob?  Oh I'll have some steaks, and some chops, and some tenderloins and oh yeah plenty of ground deer and how about some of those deer stick sausages?  I walk back to the truck and all that is left are some pieces of hair, some blood and an empty truck bed.  In my mind I am full of memories from afield, experiences that you can't  buy, and the feelings that no drug could ever give you.  I think if more kids could deer hunt they would become addicted to it instead of drugs.  I am content and tired, very tired.  My easy chair feels good, as I lay under a nice warm blanket with my little poodle BB on my lap and my two labs on the floor all of whom saw me off each day. I find my eyes heavy and closing.  I am lost somewhere between this last hunt and the next hunt for which I still have a doe tag to fill, and the rhythm of my chain saw snoring lulls me completely to sleep.

Life is good, sometimes very, very, good.

 

I paused again in the crisp, autumn air, taking in the sights and sounds around me in the forest.  Nearly three hours of slow, deliberate footsteps punctuated by prolonged pauses and careful observation had finally carried me to my destination.  A glint of sunlit ivory caught my eye, and a patch of brown melting along the fence line confirmed my theory and fluttered my heart.

*           *            *            *            * 

The goal for this hunt was to explore an area on my hunting grounds that had escaped my inspection for twelve seasons.  I had found the area while reviewing an aerial photo of the property one evening.  In the past, the aerial view had provided only general information about the land:  compass/wind directions, critical landmarks, locations of previously used stand sites, etc..  But this time I was searching for something different. 

A funnel.  A sanctuary.  Someplace where a whitetail buck might feel comfortable but falsely secure, affording me an opportunity to catch him off guard. 

Such a place would have to consist of several key elements if everything were to fall in place. 

Cover 

Both for the deer and for myself.  His sense of security depends on the knowledge that he can blend into his surroundings and instantly evaporate.  I, on the other hand, would want a mixture of openness (for spotting and shooting) and clutter (for concealment).

Wind Direction

Since a whitetail buck never ignores his nose and usually plots his course in a manner that exploits his supernatural sense of smell, the ideal location would be configured such that the prevailing wind came to the deer from the direction from which danger would be suspected to approach.  The downwind side should be an area that the buck would consider either easy to keep under surveillance or unlikely to harbor an enemy.  This combination would help create a level of comfort for any deer passing through.

Approach

I must be able to reach this zone without having my body scent precede my arrival and without leaving a telltale scent trail.  Avoiding detection by a whitetail’s nose is at least 90% of the game.