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Hunting and Fishing Stories
Deer hunting in California’s vast coastal A Zone is a chancy affair. It had been six years since I’d tagged a buck in this area, but I had to give it a go again this year. It was a hunt I will never forget.
When you forage, fish or hunt, it takes a toll on your hands. But in this age when we are so divorced from the natural world, so distant from finding our own food, it’s becoming ever more important to earn some of those cuts and scrapes on your own hands.
Pukeko. Such a cool bird, yet so unloved by the New Zealanders. We hunted and cooked a bunch of this cross between a pheasant and a coot on our trip to Kiwi Country, and learned to love this fascinating game bird.
The professional mushroom pickers call this time of year Winter Pick. It’s a time of abundance here in Northern California, a time when you can conceivably come home with 20 different kinds of edible mushrooms. It’s my favorite time of year.
I finally got myself a deer this season! A nice little buck. After nine hunts, I was due. And finally, the Fates took pity on me.
There’s a saying in fly fishing that catching a fish is the goal, but not the point of that particular obsession. Deer hunting in the West is the same thing. It’s been a tough season so far, but it ain’t over yet.
I’ve fished for tuna, off and on, my whole life. But the more you fish, the more you understand how different the fishing can be from place to place, even for the same species. This latest trip off the Mexican Coast was, well, a learning experience.
Trolling for fish – salmon or otherwise – is unlike almost every other type of angling. Trolling causes a cascading avalanche of emotions all ultimately flowing into caught fish, the promise of dinner, and a zenlike state… if you’re lucky.