Hunters are usually easy people to shop for when it comes time to get them a gift. Over the years I have received many gifts, from knives and guns to fishing lures and shirts that don’t fit. The greatest gift I ever got though was a journal back in 1993. I was a 13 year old kid with an intense interest in the outdoors.
I made $5/hr working at a Christmas tree farm, so I wasn’t exactly rolling in money. There were other things I could not afford that I thought were more important. However, I now had this journal, so I decided to use it.
From that point until now, I’ve journaled every hunt I have been on where I’ve seen the animal I was hunting.
I used to have a mind like a trap that clung tightly to memories. As a horticulture student in college I had to know the Latin and common names of every plant that grew in the northeast. Somehow I actually did that. Then I had kids. Now I am grateful if I remember to shave.
There is something to writing these priceless memories down that stores them deep in your mind somewhere. Then 20 years later you read it and you remember every detail of that particular hunt. What a gift!
Everyone’s journaling format will be different. I normally just record details like wind, temperature, and then fill out the rest of it with the details of the hunt.
Here’s an unedited one I just dug up today, of a hunt that ended up being the reason I became a hunting guide:
5/23/99- Derek Stevenson and I made the trip to northern Ontario to hunt bears for our first out of state bear hunt. We spent one night in a hotel in Ottawa then checked in on Sunday. There were 13 hunters in camp. We fished that night and I caught a 24” walleye in the lake. Every morning we fished and mostly caught largemouths. Derek caught one nice pike as well.
We first hunted on Monday night, I bow hunted and brought my gun as a back up. My stand was a 13 yard shot, with brush on every side so thick that I couldn’t see anywhere past the 13 yards to the bait. I could barely even see the bottom of my tree. My bait had been hit every day for weeks, so I was confident. However, I sat that first night for 5 1/2 hours and didn’t see anything but red squirrels. I sat till 9:45 PM, and it was too dark to shoot at that point. Derek shot at one at 6:20 and hit it, but just nicked it and did not recover it. Two other guys in camp got bears that night.
Tuesday, I got in my stand at 3:30 pm. All was quiet and slow until about 7:55. I was thinking that this stand stunk, and the bears only came at night, when I turned my head to the right.
A black movement, only 10-15’ behind my tree caught my eye. I knew it was a bear coming in, but I lost sight of it for a minute. So I pulled up my Winchester 94 30-30 and aimed toward the bait, and the bruin walked right out into the open standing broadside. I was shaking like a little kid, but calmed myself down and took the 13 yard shot. It seemed like slow-motion watching the hammer go forward. The shot sounded, and the bear lunged its head forward and knocked the bait bucket over. He 360’d and ran off diagonally to my right. He growled about 10 times, each quieter than the last. So I thought that was him running further away. I waited five minutes, gathered my wits, and climbed down to check the bait area for blood. I thought he ran far so it wouldn’t matter. I barely looked, then decided it would be best to wait for my guide. I walked out, shaking with excitement the whole time. Wolves were howling in the distance.
I waited on the road, and at 8:25 the guide came by with two of the other hunters that had already gotten bears. We went to the spot and I showed them what happened. So we spread out a bit and looked for a blood trail. I found it first, and we followed good blood for about 10 yards, then Terry looked up and saw it laying there dead. It had only run about 20 yards, and my shot hit both lungs and the heart. It was a nice male, at 225 pounds. I was beyond excited and filled with respect for that animal, words can’t describe the intensity of a bear hunt.”
Whatever the case may be, and whether you’re just gearing up for your first hunt, or you have hunted for a half century, start journaling. I have hundreds of pages of memories like the one above now. It’s a gift to yourself and eventually to your loved ones.