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Photo by Hank Shaw
I just may have found the future of hunting this past weekend, along with a reminder that this deer hunting stuff is harder to master than I imagined.
The story starts almost a year ago, when Anne Barrow of The Kitchen Mirror, emailed me wanting to know if I’d be interested in hunting deer on Catalina Island. For those of you who don’t know Catalina, it is a 40,000-acre island off the coast of Los Angeles largely owned by the Catalina Island Conservancy. What’s not owned by the conservancy is a playground for rich SoCal types.
I was excited about the idea of hunting another Channel Island — I’d hunted elk on Santa Rosa Island in 2006 – so I started to make plans to come on down. Those plans fell through, but I told Anne and Charlie de la Rosa, who would be my guide on the island, that I’d be sure to make the trip in 2010. Last week I finally made the trek.
Stepping off the ferry, my first jolt was Charlie. In my mind’s eye, he’d be a grizzled, fifty-something islander, weathered, scruffy and a little gray. Maybe he’d chew tobacco. The real Charlie is an energetic, 29-year-old scientist who’s only been guiding a couple years, although he might indeed be a little scruffy and is rumored to occasionally smoke a pipe.
Charlie proved to be the highlight of the trip. He is as psychotic about foraging, hunting, and eating the whole beast as I am, and, being something of a scientist (his job on the island is to kill invasive plants), the conversation was never dull. Geeky, maybe, but never dull. He definitely brought out the science nerd in me, and I soon found myself lacing my usual string of dirty jokes with quips about forbs and made-up Latin names for the various critters we saw all around us.
We headed out a few hours after I stowed my gear, and Charlie explained the point of the hunting program on the island. Deer are not native to Catalina, but rather than exterminate them, which is what the government will do to the deer and elk on Santa Rosa next year (a goddamn tragedy), the conservancy uses hunting to keep the deer herd small enough to not harm the island’s ecosystem. It’s not managed for giant trophies like Santa Rosa.
That means I could shoot does, something rare in California. Basically the only deer I couldn’t kill was a big buck — those they like to keep for hunters willing to pay a trophy fee. You can’t eat antlers, so a doe, or button buck, was fine with me.
We soon found deer, and I put a stalk on a doe just before dark. I butt-crawled my way to a branch I could rest my rifle on. I had the cross-hairs centered on the doe — but she was facing me, so I’d need to shoot through the brisket to hit the vitals. Not a shot I like. And it was the first night… so I decided to play. I stood up. “I am here to shoot you, Miss Deer,” I called to it. ” So stand still.” I took a few steps toward her, and, like I expected, she ambled off.
On our way back to the ranch, I noticed something. Quail. Lots of quail. Actually, that’s a lie. SHITLOADS of quail. More wild quail than any living human has ever seen before. We saw coveys of more than 100 birds, and Charlie said that wasn’t even a really big one. They were everywhere. Sadly, they are protected.
Photo by Charlie de la Rosa
When we got back to the ranch, I realized it was a bunkhouse for all the young scientists who work for the conservancy. None was older than 35, all were deeply enmeshed in their fieldwork — and most of them either already hunted, or were planning to soon.
It was the most unusual setting for a hunt I’ve ever been in. Yes, there was a set of antlers over the fireplace, but that was about it in terms of hunting paraphernalia. Here was a bunch of young, highly educated people who were coming at hunting for all the right reasons: conservation, a desire to be self-sufficient, and a need to control the food they eat.
And they are all into food — I didn’t see a Pop-Tart or a frozen dinner anywhere. Foraged herbs hang from the windows, and a bowl of native Catalina cherries sits in the living room. They all eat venison, as well as the fish that teem in the waters around the island. Charlie even makes his own beer, which was damn good.
That first night we ate lamb Charlie had gotten from one of his friends, whose family raises them in Corning. I brought some wine and some fresh chanterelles. It was a feast. Charlie started making plans to go fishing after I filled my tag and shot my deer. I was hopeful, but I don’t count chickens so quickly.
Dawn the next morning found us in a place officially called Gallagher’s Canyon, but for me it will always be the Valley of Death.
Photo by Hank Shaw
This is what went down. Charlie and I were glassing the canyon, which you can see is incredibly steep — and deep. I spotted a doe on the canyon floor, eating some leaves. I motioned for Charlie to come over, and once he spotted the deer, I started to get into position for a shot.
By then the doe had sat down. It did not know we were there. I had all the time in the world, although my heart was slamming the inside of my chest. Putting the crosshairs at the top of the deer’s shoulder, I pulled the trigger. And the world exploded.
The deer was not dead. Charlie said shoot again, and when I found the deer in the cross-hairs again, I saw it was limping. I’d shot the lower half of the front leg. How?! No time. I shot again. Missed. I reached for another shell… and found I’d left them in the truck!
Huge, horrifying mistake. If I’d had a third shell I could have killed that doe. Second mistake? Charlie had forgotten to bring his rifle, so he could not back me up. I ran to the truck for more ammunition– my first running steps since tearing my Achilles tendon back in December — but when I returned, the deer had walked into deep cover.
How had this happened? I’d felt good about this shot, unlike the fateful shot I’d made on Spork the Deer a year ago. Was there a twig I’d not seen? Did I jerk the trigger? Maybe the steep downward angle changed things? A million questions raced in my head.
But instead of chasing the doe, we sat down and waited. Maybe I’d shot her better than I’d thought, Charlie said. If we waited, we might find her dead in the canyon. Even though Charlie’s only been hunting as long as I have, guiding makes a huge difference: He’s been on more deer hunts in the past several years than a normal hunter experiences in a lifetime. So I listened to him.
After a while, we descended into the canyon to look for the deer. I was having a tough go of it. My Achilles is still not 100 percent, and this was one of the steepest hillsides I’d ever tried to walk. I couldn’t do it without the very real possibility of rupturing my achilles again, and a tear at the bottom of that hill would be a disaster — although it’d also be deliciously ironic, with me and the deer I’d shot sitting, crippled, at the bottom of the Valley of Death.
Charlie went in alone. I sat on the rim of the canyon, helpless. It was a terrible feeling, and it got me thinking about the messiness — both literal and moral — of obtaining food.
I practice at the gun range so these sorts of shots don’t happen. Yet I’d made two in a row. As Phillip said last year, and Charlie said that day, it happens. To everyone. I’d started hunting in part to avoid the cruelty of industrial meat production, yet, with few exceptions, the death of a cow in a slaughterhouse is faster than all but the best shots from a hunter; it’s the life before the death that makes industrial meat so cruel.
Even vegetarians are not innocent. Habitat that once supported thousands of animals, insects and native plants is destroyed to plow the fields for their soybeans, and those vegetarians who eat factory-farmed eggs support an undeniably cruel system. We all have blood on our hands.
Only mine is literal — visceral, really. I’ve taken solace in the notion that my skill as a marksman makes the animal’s death a decent one. That solace evaporates when I fail. Suddenly I become an agent of cruelty, and I have to live with that.
Charlie never found the deer, which was still moving and still eluding him many hours later. Our best hope is that it will survive as a “tripod” deer; I’ve seen several such deer live for years. It’s not pretty, but it’s the best hope I have.
I did not want to hunt again the next day. I’d lost confidence in my shooting, and there is the ethical dilemma about whether a lost deer should count as your tag. In the end, however, Charlie convinced me to give it another go. The point of the Catalina hunt is to kill lots of deer so they don’t destroy the island, he said. Besides, we didn’t really know if I’d actually inflicted a mortal wound on the doe.
So we went out again one more time. I was nervous. I was content with the possibility of coming home without venison in the cooler, but I was frightened about the prospect of wounding yet another deer. I’d also told Charlie I really did not want to hunt in a place so rugged I could not help recover a deer if we had to chase it, so he took me to a spot that was hilly, but not ungodly steep.
We weren’t at the spot more than a few minutes before Charlie spotted a deer on a distant hillside. I spotted the deer, too. Like the doe the previous day, this one was lying down. I hesitated.
The deer was looking at us, so I was certain we could not get much closer. Charlie used a rangefinder to check the distance: Exactly 200 yards, nearly twice the distance of the previous day’s shot. But this time I could use the door frame of the truck to steady the rifle, and I am a very good shot with this kind of rest.
So I decided to go for it. Charlie had his rifle this time, ready to back me up. I had plenty of shells handy.
I stared at this deer in the scope. It wasn’t alarmed, wasn’t moving. Still, it was lying down, which makes a shot through the vitals more challenging. I nearly pulled the trigger three times before I felt calm enough to place the shot exactly where I wanted it. My mantra when shooting is to “bear down,” which means “keep your head on the scope and follow through once you’ve pulled the trigger. Don’t pull your head off the scope.”
I exhaled and squeezed the trigger. All I saw in the predawn light was a flash of the muzzle in the scope.
“He’s still moving!” Charlie said. What the hell?!
I got the scope back on the deer and it was obviously deeply wounded, but it was walking up the hillside. I shot and missed. Don’t panic, don’t panic. I took a deep breath and thought of all those hunting TV shows I’d watched, where they level a deer with a shot to the spine.
I put the cross-hairs on the deer’s spine and touched off one more round. Again, the muzzle flash blinded me through the scope.
“Oh man!” Charlie shouted. “It looks like you pole-axed it!”
I’d done it. I put a shot right through the spine of a moving deer at 200 yards. Thank God. We later found that my first shot had nicked the lungs, then the liver. It would have died without the spine shot.
Retrieving this deer was a snap. Once we gutted it, the deer was light enough for Charlie to do his favorite carrying trick.
Photo by Hank Shaw
So there will be venison after all.
What can I say about this trip? It was a whirlwind of newness, elation and fascination spiked by the stark reminder that what we do can be an ugly business at times. I met many new friends: Charlie, Annie and her husband Shane chief among them. I saw new plants (I brought back some yerba buena and black sage to experiment with) and had close encounters with one of the cutest creatures I’ve ever seen, the Catalina fox. The hunt itself showed me both how much I still need to learn to master deer hunting – and that my shooting skills are still fundamentally sound.
But most of all, I saw a group of young people who could propel hunting into a new era, where food and conservation — not antler size – are the prime movers. I know that many older hunters seek meat, not trophies, but the public face of hunting always has been big racks, not juicy venison steaks. I’ve long said that face needs to change, that the connection to food — honest food — is the true future of hunting. The people on Catalina give me hope that it just might happen. Someday.
Awesome post Hank, that moment of shooting at a wounded deers is nerve wracking, you captured it well.
SBW
Great post Hank!
It always is frustrating to loose game. Especially big game. Someone else will be eating and that a good thing even if it is disheartening to loose such and animal. Glad you were successful. Looks like good eats are headed your way.
Can’t wait to see what your cooking up….Alan
Hank, this was a great article. Tough luck, man; I’m sorry it had to go down that way. I’m also glad you got a deer, and not just because I live close… I’ll trade some Thrifty Italian for some sausage, if you have enough and the inclination.
I would LOVE to see a Catalina fox! And, your description of what the future of hunting could look like is very heartening, especially right now.
What a weekend.
I’m always astounded at the stamina of a deer that’s been shot. I swear I’ve shot a doe in the heart at about 60 yards and she ran way farther than that. I always hope that the vital life spirit that enables these incredible animals transfers to me when I partake of their bounty.
That may sound weird but, like harvesting poultry, ethical and sustainable hunting has an attraction that the moment of death is only a very small part of.
Hey Hank: Good post! I grew up hunting white-tailed deer in the North Woods of Maine. You touched on many issues that hunters and their associations must better explain to non-hunters. You made headway with you post.
Take care.
Great stuff, Hank! I’m sure there’s a lot for hunters to learn from in the honesty of your description. Even well-trained veteran snipers miss–something hit home during a radio interview last week with my friend Maj. John Plaster, author of “The Ultimate Sniper”.
A few questions:
When you go to range do you only shoot at the bench, which is really just seeing where your rifle is zeroed, or do you go through all the possible positions you’d need for the field: prone off a backpack, kneeling, off-hand and off shooting sticks?
Do you carry shooting sticks?
Do you practice at ranges out to 600 yards? Practicing at ranges most would never shoot an animal at makes the 100-200 yard shot a no-brainer.
How often do you practice? Lately, I’ve been doing most of my practice in the backyard with something that most replicates my hunting rifle, a bolt-action, scoped Benjamin Marauder adult .22 pellet gun. Much cheaper than going to the range (I practice for a few minutes every day), and I can go through all the shooting forms, and hitting an half-inch size target at 15 yards is like hitting a deer at 300 yards. It is all after all about a light trigger pull, tigger control, shooting between hearbeats and breath control…and heavy rifles are actually your friend…you’re going to be out of breath anyway, might as well have a non-mountain-type rifle that doesn’t bounce your sight picture around…
What bullets were you shooting–I’m assuming you’re using your .270 from last year? A few years back I shot a blacktail, on a San Mateo county ranch that is now part of Open Spaces, at 35 yards. It kept running as if I didn’t even scratch it. I hit it again with my .300 Win Mag and it rolled. The two entry holes right behind the shoulder were only an inch apart. What assume was the second hole had an exit that busted a rib. The other one passed between the ribs on entry and exit. I was using a 180gr. CoreLokt.
From the angle you were shooting at, and the position of the deer, do you think it entered at the base of the throat, passed through the soft vitals and then hit the back leg? Which leg was it limping on? What model and make were you using of bullet?
The fishing must have been amazing! When I was going to school in SoCal, I used to SCUBA dive Catalina a lot off of Avalon. I remember being at 100 feet and looking up to see a school of tuna pass high above us like a flock of geese–amazing!
Hank, nicely told! And yeah, I’m jealous as hell… I’d love to get on a hunt in a place like that. One day (he tells himself).
As far as shooting, it’s that second shot that messes with people. The first one is tricky enough, all about the balance of adrenaline and muscle memory, but the second one is the nerve wracker. In your mind, you know you’ve already done something wrong, the confidence is shattered, the animal is generally alarmed and alert… as well as moving… and you never seem to have enough time to pull it all together. Congrats on pulling it together on that second deer.
The first deer… if the shot was truly all leg, then odds are good that the deer will survive. I don’t know, but seems like large predators are fairly limited on Catalina? Bummer that it happened, but it does. We just do what we can to keep it from happening too often.
So now you’ve got meat in the freezer. What’s next?
Hank! It was great having you here. Can’t wait to see what you whip up out of this one…especially la lengua.
I’ll send you the video of the foxes as soon as I can. The cuteness…!
I like the idea of hunting for meat and sparing the trophy bucks with the “best” genes. It could counter our recent trend of selecting for small body size in these animals, and reminds me of many angler’s desire to only kill hatchery fish, sparing the natural genetic diversity.
Wish I could have been there, sounds like everyone had a great weekend. The quail look particularly tasty while they are eating your squash flowers!
That’s a powerful post, Hank. Thanks.
I dread the possibility of wounding a deer in my own hunting. And if my first shooting of a deer had resulted in that kind of scene, I feel fairly certain it might have been my last hunt.
And I, like you, hope to see hunting’s future play out more along the lines of food and conservation, less along those of competition and trophies.
Great post Hank…
Being involved in culling operations (where a wounded animal doesn’t count against your bag) before I can only say you hope to do it right the first shot and sometimes you just don’t. Nice recovery on the second deer, I’m sure it will be wonderful eating. No one likes to wound anything but its a reality of hunting- all hunting, not just human on animal hunting. Wild animals wound each other frequently. Doesn’t make it less painful but its a reality.
I’ve shot deer that had substantial wounds well healed…ones that would suprise you, so that deer may be doing better than you think.
Great post and really cool to see the Island through another’s eyes! We were happy to have you here and get to know you as well; learning from people who share our interests is a great pleasure for us, and as you saw from your time here, this little ranch loves welcoming new friends into the tribe. I hope you’ll make it out again and experience more of the Island– maybe some white sea bass next time!
Give a shout next time you pass through the mountains; our new stomping grounds is prime for lots of great hunting, fishing and foraging and we’d be happy to have you.
Phillip– you’re right, large predators are not present on the island (unless you count people!).
Wow. Well written, and I should just steal your last paragraph sometime as it’s perfection. Ok, quote, not steal.
I always enjoy hearing about your screw ups – it makes me feel better about nicking the odd gut. Still haven’t lost a big game animal, but I know my time will come – the ‘elders’ I hunt with say it happens to everyone eventually.
Enjoy your sensibilities. I have been to Catalina Island, years ago, and thought it was heaven on earth. I grew up on wild meat and fish. My father was a hunter. We had it as much as beef. I really miss it now.
Great post, thanks for writing it. I’m encouraged to hear about this group of young sciency types who are into good food and connecting with it through hunting and all that. I’m headed to the Women’s Hunting Weekend held by California Waterfowl in September and am excited to take the first step for myself. It’s interesting how unusual a thing it still is though, people I associate with really seem to think of hunters as conservative redneck NRA types and don’t know how to react to my interest.
Although even as I write this I realize there a good number of folks who I’ve mentioned it to who smile and tell me about how their Dad or other relatives used to hunt and they loved going out shooting or whatever.
Boy does this give me pause. It’s every hunter’s second-to-worst-case scenario (after shooting a person), and the likelihood of its happening to me, a first-time hunter inexperienced with a gun, is so much higher than the likelihood of its happening to you, a seasoned hunter and excellent marksman. Yet it happened to you. I suppose it happens to almost everyone, eventually. It’s an inevitable part of hunting, and its inevitability is one of the things we have to factor in when we consider whether hunting is ethical.
I hope the deer isn’t suffering inordinately.
Very honest story, Hank. As always, beautifully written.
Thanks, everyone, for your stories — and support!
Charlie, Annie and Vyki: You bet I will return. Had a great time.
Josh: I’ll send some venison your way. If Holly and I kill another, we can help stock you up.
Cork: So many questions… I practice every month at the range. Mostly at a bench – no position shooting allowed. A .270 will kill any game animal in the US, so no need for anything larger. The shot hit the front leg, not the back. And 600 yards is crazy. No rifle range near me offers that, and besides, no ethical hunter will take a shot that far – you don’t shoot that far, do you? Personally, I even think 400 yards is too far, even for an expert; too much can happen in a quarter mile…
Phillip: Thanks! I am curing a lot of venison today, so that’s what’s next. Still thinking about where to see about filling my second tag.
Vyki: You never know when one of those quail might suffer an… “accident.”
Hodgeman: Yeah, I hear ya about healed wounds. I shot a boar once with a huge healed wound in its back. Dunno how it survived.
Kevin: Happy to help! I think…
Janna: I think Holly will see you at the CWA hunter’s weekend. Say “hi” to her.
Tamar: I hope the deer isn’t suffering inordinately, either.
Frickin’ captcha code… let me start again…
If you’re interested, Hank, Holly is wanting to go try Kokopelli Valley again this fall. That’s a B zone tag. I’ll be trying to get there a couple more times this season, starting with the archery opener next weekend, so I’ll have it a little more scouted out than last time. A couple of extra hunters will also let us spread out a little bit and cover more ground.
I may also take a September weekend and do an A zone rifle hunt on some public land I used to hit a lot. You’re welcome to join me on that one too.
Anyway, let me know if you’re interested in getting to any of these spots. They’re not Catalina, and probably can’t compare to some private land opportunities, but the invite is open.
I heard there was some good fishing as well! It was nice to have you here on the island, and I hope this article gets read and read again.
No, Hank, I don’t shoot game at 600 yards (many bullets don’t even had enough force to mushroom at that range), I only practice at those ranges when I can: makes the 100-300 yard range that much easier, especially since my .270 is sighted in at 1-1/2 high at 100 yards, which means I don’t need to adjust for drop until 275 yards.
There’s this range that’s pretty good in your area: http://www.sacvalley.org/ They have up to 300 yards for non-members and a 1,000 yard range for members. I also have some desolate places up high in the Sierras that are free, safe, and are pretty open, making great places to practice shooting in up and down hunting conditions.
I do the same for my archery: while I hunt only out to 30 yards, I practice shooting at the archery range out to 80 yards. Really makes 30 yards that much easier.
Are you by any chance bringing some of that deer as carpaccio to the dove shoot? nudge-nudge, wink-wink …meat must be soft like butter!
Hank — we all come to a similar situation sooner or later. I have never actually lost a big game animal I knew I had hit, but I have had some painful and difficult hunts after the shot. It is sobering to be reminded of how serious it is to be a hunter. You did right, learn from it, and prosper.
Thanks for your honesty and your excellent, well written blog.
Ken: LOL! Yes there is great fishing on Catalina. I never did get to write about the great mackerel fishing we had Saturday evening!
Cork: Ah, I see. I do know about the Sac Valley club, and I ought to get myself out there, but it is a 45-minute drive. Rancho Cordova is so much closer…
Mike: Thanks, man!
I always enjoy your stories but this one is especially poignant for me. I don’t hunt because I’m a vegetarian (I was raised as a vegetarian so it isn’t a political or moral choice for me) and I am often annoyed that vegetarians and vegans don’t understand that eating, whether animal or vegetable, will always effect other beings. You put it so eloquently I won’t bother to rehash it- I just appreciated you bringing that point up. We do all have blood on our hands and I really believe that while that’s inevitable, we should all be aware of it and respect what we take from others to feed ourselves.
That was a pretty gripping story. I need a beer now.
Great post again, Hank. Honest experience, honest food.
I grew up on Catalina—actually on a boat at the Isthmus 25 years ago and have all the fond memories of abalone diving as a kid, boat people going out on boar hunts, and all the fresh fish we could eat.
I am continually impressed by the candor in both you and your significant other’s posts about the realities of hunting. It’s so important to tell, to put the reality out there, and yet I don’t know that I’d have the courage to tell these types of stories in a public venue. Bravo, seriously.
Bp, your Oregon pal
just found your blog i dont shoot deer quite expensive in the uk but i hunt most other game .this was a lovely article quite sad but thats hunting sometimes.im suprised you or the guide didnt have a tracking dog as most in the uk do is this normal over there ,love your artices good huntin good food they way it should be
I agree with the others…that story had me on pins and needles. Are there any predators on the island that could finish off that wounded deer? Nice shooting with the second deer, though I found it disconcerting that the way your friend, Charlie, carries the carcass has it looking a lot like my chihuahua when she sits. I suppose all four walkers do resemble each other in some way or another…when my dog does an eagle spread on hot days, she looks eerily like the frozen, dressed rabbits they carry at the local Harvey’s Supermarkets. I can’t decide if I consider it observant or creepy that I notice these things. I’m leaning more towards creepy. LoL
Great post Hank. I been hunting in Iowa and Missouri for the past 3 years. Awesome.
Nice post! I just finished my hunter education class this week. I was inspired to do so by a post of yours earlier this year. I have never hunted, but now me and my fiance can hardly wait to go!
Hank, I’m a good friend of Charlie’s and just returned from Catalina. He took me hunting as well, your name came up a lot in a favorable way. I got extremely lucky on my hunt, three does sauntered up to us at about 35 yrs right before sunrise. Of course, that luck was orchestrated by Charlie. It had a great taste of subversiveness, I could see the Casino from where I took my shot. She didn’t get very far at all.
That was the first deer I’d shot in about 20 or so years. Somehow we managed to get 35 lbs of beautifully butchered (by Charlie) meat back to FLA without Delta sending it to baggage limbo. I’m really looking forward to trying some of your recipes. I have some friends here who are offering me to hunt locally on their land, if I get a chance it will be interesting to compare Catalina mule deer to Alachua County whitetail.
That is a great story and I love your perspective. How can I get info on booking Charlie?
I love your blog, and I share many of your passions, but please re-read this part of your posting…
“Here was a bunch of young, highly educated people who were coming at hunting for all the right reasons: conservation, a desire to be self-sufficient, and a need to control the food they eat.”
Ask yourself how this sounds to the millions of hunters here in the rest of America who hunt, and have hunted, for generations. Pretty damn pompous. I know I probably sound like a jerk to you, but hunting is not a statement, nor a fad, for most of us. It is a full freezer, a lot of fun, a time for traditions, and conservation.
Congrats on your success and your lovely blog, If you find your self in Michigan, look me up- we can forage for wild rice, make some maple sugar, catch some burbot, or grill up some young split groundhogs!