kill

Slide Show: This Week's Tips from Jerome B. Robinson

fieldandstream-editor — Sat, 20 May 2006 07:00:00 -0400

Slide Show: This Week's Tips from Jerome B. Robinson

fieldandstream-editor — Tue, 16 May 2006 07:00:00 -0400

Young Writers Contest Winners

fieldandstream-editor — Wed, 18 Jan 2006 04:20:00 -0500

Dances with Dogs
First Place, Ages 19Â¿Â¿Â¿22
George Elder, 20
Valley Center, Kansas

He looks different in the framed photograph that sits on a shelf in the kitchen. There are boyish qualities in the smooth face and thick red hair, but it's definitely Dad. Rocky, Dad's old setter, is standing on his hind legs with his front paws in Dad's hands, almost like they are dancing. Both seem happy, not with the number of quail at their feet, but with the moment's significance. The night before my first hunt, when I was just 10 years old, I looked back and forth between the picture and my dad, across the dinner table. Dad's cheeks had become rough like sandpaper, and his hair was tinged with gray. Rocky had since retired from hunting, and Dad had a new dog. As I went to bed that night, I remember wishing that I would feel what Dad felt the day that photo was taken.

The next morning, we left before sunup. My two older brothers and I breathed on the windows and wrote our names in the condensation while Dad talked to us about the day ahead. The hand-me-downs we wore had been hanging in the closet for years, and they were still too big. Dad had on the same checked shirt he is wearing in the photo.

We got out of the truck in a farmyard behind a modest house and a red silo. A wiry man in a chore coat came out to greet us.

"I'm glad you boys got your Dad back here," Mr. Koehn said in a pleasant voice. We smiled in the cold. Dad and Mr. Koehn had worked together on this farm before we were born and Dad moved to town to work in the factory. "You ought to find some coveys in the back pasture, or by the swimming hole," he told us. After gobbling down a few giant cinnamon rolls, we headed out.

At first, everything was unfamiliar and exciting. My brothers and I marched behind Dad and his pointer, Dee, with unshakable faith that they would lead us to birds. Dad walked with a slight limp from an old football injury, so it wasn't hard to keep up. But after three hours of trudging through an endless succession of fields lined with brown hedges, we lost all hope and started dragging our feet.

"Don't worry, boys," Dad said. "We'll find them." I stared at him like the Israelites must have looked at Moses when he assured them that the Red Sea would part before their eyes. Dad kept walking.

Minutes later, as I ambled after him, wallowing in boredom, I caught sight of 10 small birds trotting in a line like so many fat women doing a ballet step with their skirts raised high. Dad whispered, "Quail!"

"Where?" I said.

"Running across the road."

"Those are quail?"

"Get ready," Dad said. Then, like popcorn shooting out of a pot, they began to fly. Whiz, whir, sputter. They were everywhere. I raised my gun, and as birds flew directly away from me, I fired. The report of Dad's gun echoed my own. A bird crumpled. Small wispy feathers hung in the air, and it was suddenly quiet again. I looked up at Dad. He was smiling. "Good shot," he said. For a moment, I saw beyond the silver hair, the weathered cheeks, and the wobbling knees; I saw the young man from the picture and I knew why he looked the way he did. I felt it in my stomach.

Ten years have passed since then. I look back on that day and wonder how Dad could have enjoyed it. His knee hurt and we complained too much, but when he tells the story of my first quail, it's obvious that he cherishes the day as much as I do. Dad doesn't shoot many birds these days, but he still goes hunting with my younger brothers, Walter and James. Each time he comes home with one of the boys dangling a quail as proudly as I did long ago, I am reminded: Although Dad may not be a great hunter, he has always understood what hunting is about. Sometimes, it can make you want to dance. [NEXT "First Place, Ages 13-18: Uncle Buck, by Jeremy Kidd"]

Uncle Buck First Place, Ages 1Â¿Â¿18
Jeremy Kidd, 17
Centerville, Indiana

You can have all the heart and guts in the world, and it won't matter. To become a real sportsman, you need another sportsman

For me, it all started with a Daisy BB gun that I bought from Wal-Mart with a gift certificate I won in the fifth grade. I covered the brown stock with camouflage tape (which seemed like a pretty good idea at the time). Every Saturday, after waking up early to watch the morning hunting shows, I'd suit up, grab my air rifle, and head out to the "woods" behind my house--a strip of trees about 2 feet long and 4 feet wide within yelling distance of the back door. I never saw a deer, or any other wildlife except sparrows, but it was still exciting. I just wanted to hunt.

Without a single hunter in my family, going on a real hunt with a real gun in real woods seemed like an impossibility. But then, after a disappointing summer spent trying to turn my mom's rat terrier into a rabbit dog, I met my best friend, Abram, in the sixth grade. Abe was always talking about hunting with his grandpa and uncles. All I could think was How lucky. One morning after I had slept at Abe's house, his Uncle Aaron came to pick him up to go hunting. Aaron must have seen the look in my eye because he asked me if I had a gun. I thought of ol' Daisy but said no. He told me that I could come along if I wanted, though I'd have to just sit in the blind. That was fine with me.

My first hunt was eye-opening. I realized that I didn't know much about the sport I loved. I never knew, for example, that I had to hide my scent, or sit extremely still--and those are just the basics. But I was counting on Aaron to teach me.

My birthday that November was a little different from past birthdays. Rather than Nintendo games and Hot Wheels, I asked for a Scent-Lok outfit (like the one Aaron had) and deer calls. I hunted with Aaron all season without a bow or gun. I was learning the tricks of whitetail hunting, and by the end of the season, I knew as much as a 12-year-old could know about deer. Aaron had schooled me on scrapes, the rut, wind direction, feeding times, and food plots.

That summer, Aaron managed to convince my dad that I was old enough and ready for my own 12-gauge shotgun. He also helped me negotiate a good deal on his buddy's old bow. I shot the gun and bow every day for weeks until--after a couple of shoulder bruises--I could handle both with confidence.

As summer crept into fall, I came down with a bad case of buck fever. A few days before the season opener, Aaron pulled up to my house in his truck and called me over. His tree stand was in the back. He told me that he had bought a new one, and this one was mine now. It was then that I realized just how lucky I was. I wondered why he was so good to me, why he even went through the trouble. So I asked him. He laughed and said, "Why do you think? I get half the meat if you get a deer." Then he turned serious. "I think every kid should hunt," he told me. "It's fun and it can teach you a lot, even lessons that apply out of the woods." Aaron wasn't only the best hunter I knew but also the best guy I had ever met.

I am 17 now and have taken eight deer--one of them a 12-point buck that Aaron saw me harvest. Aaron, Abe, and I still go hunting together every year in eastern Indiana. I've been showing my little brother and two 12-year-old cousins a few things I learned from Aaron. I hope to do for them what he did for me. I agree with what he said the day he dropped off his tree stand: Every kid should be lucky enough to hunt. I want to thank Aaron, along with all the people who are keeping this great sport alive. I plan to be among them. [NEXT "Runner Up, Ages 19-22: Siblings in the Family Tree, by Emily Courtney"]

Siblings in the Family Tree
Runner-up, Ages 19-22
Emily Courtney, 19
Clinton, Mississippi

My brother, Matt, is responsible for my addiction to hunting. He introduced me to the sport and taught me everything I know about it. He also imparted what it means to be a responsible hunter, and in the process, he changed my life. Matt didn't just give me a hobby. He gave me something to believe in.

I remember the first time I asked Matt if I could tag along with him in the field. I was 13, struggling through junior high school and trying to figure out who I wanted to be. He was 17, about to begin his senior year of high school and his life as an adult. Nonetheless, he quickly agreed, as if he had been waiting for me to ask. It didn't occur to me at the time, but as I grew older, I began to realize how extraordinary it was that a teenaged boy with plenty of friends and plenty of other things to do would take his little sister hunting. I suppose, however, that the most extraordinary thing was that he didn't simply take me hunting; he showed me how to hunt.

The day that I asked to tag along, Matt went straight to his room and returned with his deer rifle, a Browning .270, which he had received as a gift from our grandfather. He dove into a detailed explanation of how the gun works and informed me that we would borrow a smaller-caliber rifle and that I would practice shooting it until he was satisfied with my accuracy. Then, and only then, would he allow me to take a gun into the field. With Matt's coaching, it wasn't long before I earned his approval.

The shooting lessons were just the beginning. Matt took me scouting so that I could see what deer tracks look like. He demonstrated how to walk quietly on the dead leaves that cover the forest floor in autumn. He taught me how to climb into all different types of tree stands, and how important it is to wear a safety harness. He showed me how to tie a secure knot around my gun or bow to pull it up to the stand. My first year afield, we often sat in the stand together, and he would point out deer behaviors and explain why the animals acted the way they did.

Matt was in the stand with me when I shot my first deer--a 4-point buck--and the things he said in the moments that followed helped me to fully grasp the significance of what I had done. He told me that it's okay to be proud of something that I worked hard to achieve. But he also reminded me that I would have to hunt twice as hard to kill a trophy buck. Matt's words taught me a new degree of humility. I felt grateful for the opportunity to hunt. And as I hiked out of the woods with my brother, I understood that family is the greatest blessing of all.

Matt recently returned from the Mississippi Gulf Coast, where he was deployed as a National Guardsman to help with Hurricane Katrina relief efforts. During his six years of service with the National Guard, Matt has been away from home on deployments for a total of two years. I always miss myrother, Matt, is responsible for my addiction to hunting. He introduced me to the sport and taught me everything I know about it. He also imparted what it means to be a responsible hunter, and in the process, he changed my life. Matt didn't just give me a hobby. He gave me something to believe in.

The Land of the Giants

fieldandstream-editor — Tue, 17 Jan 2006 04:15:00 -0500

In November in Saskatchewan, where temperatures may soar to a sultry 15 degrees, I went to find a whitetail that would give me chills. Over the years I'd squandered too many hunts (as much as any hunt is ever squandered) in too many places by turning down adequate bucks, waiting for something extraordinary. The result has been, of course, broad swatches of vacant walls for all the heads I never got, and extra room in the freezer for the venison not taken. In Saskatchewan there are whitetails that live and die without ever catching so much as a scent of a human being. And some are big enough that no hunter has ever had to have a second thought about them. That was the kind of whitetail I needed-the no-questions-asked kind.

To hunt in Saskatchewan, though, a nonresident is restricted to the northern half of the province, in what is designated "provincial forest." It is in actuality an interminable hell of poplar and spruce where a hunter will get irretrievably turned around in 10 yards. (The standard admonition guides give their hunters is never to go into the bush alone, not even on the trail of a wounded deer.) Still-hunting borders on physically unfeasible, and to attempt spot-and-stalk hunting would be like trying to find Waldo in a satellite photo of Calcutta. As for drives-considering that they only propel deer into some equally impenetrable sector of the bush-bailing a boat with a net would be more productive. So in the hope of seeing at least one no-questions buck in my life, and in my sights, I dressed in layer upon layer of poly, wool, and down, covered it with a white suit, pulled polar-expedition boots onto my feet and mitts on my hands, and sat in a ground blind watching a small clearing marked with fresh scrapes and rubs.

{The Long Wait}
I sat all alone in the blind and waited quietly (no talking, no laughing-though after a while I was strangely tempted) from well before dawn till long after sunset. When you wait on whitetails in Saskatchewan, there are other things to see. On the rarest of occasions, a moose, elk, black bear, or wolf might wander by. NaÂ¿Â¿ve ruffed grouse also strolled about, easy and tasty pickings for the locals who lamented nature's oversight in not creating the 250-pound economy size. At intervals during the iron-cold day, ravens caw-clucked overhead, flying so low the grunts that came from them with each wingbeat were audible. Mostly for me, though, surrounded by the poplars and spruces, there was only the silence of the limbs as the waiting developed into something resembling a state of terminal ennui. Luckily, deer appeared just often enough for total psychological collapse to be narrowly averted.

Almost always it was does that came. They materialized in the small clearing with wary gaits, heads bobbing apprehensively. The smaller does came first, to be driven off by larger ones that pressed back their ears and flailed with their front hooves. Even the largest does, though, were subjects of abuse, with magpies hopping onto their rumps. The deer wheeled in annoyance, flaring the black-and-white birds, which hopped right back on, until the does dematerialized, driven to distraction. At the very start of the Monday that was the first day of the hunt, the does came and went. Then at 9:30 A.M. the first buck showed up, and he was only the biggest I had ever seen and could have legally killed. He walked out like an inevitability, a 150-class 10-point, antlers burnished like the arms of an antique oak rocker. Seeing a buck like that, you begin to understand what a peculiar condition maleness is, especially during the rut. The buck wasn't drawn by any promise of food. He had come to find does, and if they weren't there, he might only lope through the clearing or hover tormentingly at the margin of the poplars before simply fading away.

He stood, though, in the open, right in front of me; and that should have been that. But once moree, unable to help myself, I thought about it. It was less than two hours into legal shooting time on the first day. Couldn't something bigger possibly come along? My answer was to watch him walk away, even as a tiny voice in my head was bawling, What have you done?

No more bucks came out that day, and after dark the guide arrived to get me. He asked what I'd seen. I told him.

"Monday buck," he said with a shake of the head, meaning that more than one hunter had lived to regret not taking that first-day's deer. Monday, Monday, can't trust that day; and after a full day Tuesday of sitting and seeing only one wee buck glide through the clearing, I was thinking that maybe I shouldn't be trusted, either, at least not when it came to making up my own mind.

{A Better Buck}
On Wednesday there was a doe in the clearing under the moon before shooting time, then an 8-point in the first gray light. Even he would have approached a personal best, but after Monday I'd established a benchmark. There was no giving in, and if I had to sit out the rest of the days on stand and go home, babbling, without a deer, that's how it would be. As absurd as it might sound, having seen one real deer, I had to see one even more real before I could pull the trigger.

The day went on with ravens, does, and magpies and lunch from a sack. I fought sleep. Every hour or so I checked my watch to see how much time remained. It was 4 P.M. when he filled up the gaps between the poplars.

He was already standing there when I sensed him, feeling him in my spine as much as seeing him. Ten-point antlers heavy as an elk's rack crowned his broad head. This was without a doubt the deer I'd passed up all the others for over the years, and now my mouth was dry and I kept telling myself to move slowly as I pulled off my mitt and brought up the .300 Winchester Magnum. There was absolutely nothing to think about, except whether he would come out of the trees.

The buck went on standing, looking into the clearing. He took a step back. He took another and turned to his left, the trees shielding him. Now that I didn't have to make up my mind, he was going to take away the decision anyway. He walked forward, moving off, going. Then he began to circle in toward the glade. I almost jumped.

He came out from behind a tall pine an inch at a time, first his muzzle with the tips of the black, wide main beams extending past his nose. His head and neck appeared, but I waited, and then I could see his shoulder, and after that his side. I didn't wait anymore.

I thumbed off the safety, held behind his shoulder, and fired. He spun and was gone. I left the blind and walked the 80 yards to where the buck had stood when I shot. I looked for blood and hair but could find none. I turned toward the poplars and spruces and remembered the guide's dire warnings. Still bundled in cold-weather gear, I stepped into the bush.

In the trees, a web of brown-leafed trails tangled through the snow. An hour of light was left. I looked back and made the tall pine my landmark and started down the first trail, pushing through the trees. After a few hundred feet I had cut nothing and turned back to try another trail. Twenty yards down the fourth I found one drop of blood, already frozen to a leaf. Ten feet farther was a second.

He lay big and yellow-brown 75 yards from the first blood. His almost perfectly symmetrical antlers were more like black walnut than oak, the flats of the beams wide as the palm of a hand, the eye guards long and thick. (Later, the antlers would green-score 1632/8.) I was safe in imagining I was the first person ever to see this buck, certainly the first hunter. I risked going stir-crazy for that privilege, and what I saw was a deer beyond doubt, at last. >

McIntyre hunted with Jim Shockey's Hunting Adventures, 250-748-6413; jimshockey.com.

How to Stalk With Smoke

fieldandstream-editor — Wed, 28 Dec 2005 04:10:00 -0500

When you're stalking or still-hunting, even the slightest puff of air can take your scent to the animal you're after. But it's very difficult to determine the precise direction of a light breeze.

This simple tool helps you solve the problem, and you can make one in less than a minute. Just place 4 or 5 tablespoons of fine white ash from a campfire into a small porous burlap bag, such as a tobacco pouch (the kind that's sold for roll-your-own cigarettes). When you want to know what the wind is doing, just remove the bag from your pocket and give it a quick shake. A puff of "smoke" will sift out into the air and show exactly, not approximately, what the air is doing, even when you can't detect any wind movement at all. To keep your pocket clean, store the pouch in a sandwich bag. -Sam Fadala

How to Stalk With Smoke

fieldandstream-editor — Wed, 28 Dec 2005 04:10:00 -0500

When you're stalking or still-hunting, even the slightest puff of air can take your scent to the animal you're after. But it's very difficult to determine the precise direction of a light breeze.

Howling About Wolves

fieldandstream-editor — Tue, 27 Dec 2005 04:10:00 -0500

To some of the less charitableÂ¿Â¿respondents below, I can only say, "My, what big teeth you have."Â¿Â¿ I hope my article was clear on the point that I wasÂ¿Â¿not calling for the eradication of wolves, or evenÂ¿Â¿for the immediate opening of aÂ¿Â¿season on them where they are found in the Lower 48.Â¿Â¿ I was merely reporting the facts surrounding the terrible death of young Kenton Carnegie.Â¿Â¿

Facts are stubborn things, and the continuing growth of the wolf population in this country, along with the plans for further reintroductions, only means that more incidents such as the Carnegie one are inevitable. I am not someone who believes that hunting wolves would guarantee that no one would ever be attacked by one again (wolves are, I believe, hunted in Saskatchewan where theÂ¿Â¿killing occurred); but the lack of a hunting season, as is the case with cougars in California, only leads to more rapid habituation to humans by large predators, which in turnÂ¿Â¿increases the possibility of attacks.Â¿Â¿

The impact of wolves on game populations is also a legitimate concern.Â¿Â¿ It must be understood that a regulated hunting seasonÂ¿Â¿for wolves wouldÂ¿Â¿not equate to an extermination order.Â¿Â¿ On the contrary, a well-balanced hunting program is a vital tool in insuring the continuing survival of big carnivorves, and has always beenÂ¿Â¿acknowleged to be a potential component of wolf recovery programs.Â¿Â¿ TheÂ¿Â¿undoubtedly irreversible spread of humans into wolf habitat, and vice versa, insures future conflicts.Â¿Â¿ For our sake, and the sake of wolves, a rational approachÂ¿Â¿to co-existing with them needs to be found.Â¿Â¿Â¿Â¿Â¿Â¿

A Selection of Comments

"2 questions, 1: are they sure it was wolves and not feral dogs, and 2, were the people attacked eaten?Â¿Â¿ This highly "informational" article is just an excuse for humans to be allowed to shoot something else...real sport would be for a man to take on the animal with no weapons other than the ones he was born with?Â¿Â¿ Whats that? Not Fair?Â¿Â¿ Well sorry, thats life...and death.Â¿Â¿ Wolflingsdad, Calif."

"That is such garbage; it was proven that a wolf did NOT kill this man and your magazine's assertion that one did, is slander. I have news for you, even if a wolf did kill a human, that wouldn't automatically give us the right to go and hunt them down like mass murderers; we don't do this to humans who INTENTIONALLY AND WILLFULLY kill other humans do we? no we don't." Â¿Â¿

"Wolves are not to blame.Â¿Â¿ They do not wish to be close to man.Â¿Â¿ We should not habituate them to depending on man for food.Â¿Â¿ When they get used to us that is when they become dangerous.Â¿Â¿ If we could leave them alone, they will leave us along.Â¿Â¿ Don't kill wolves for our mistakes." Â¿Â¿

"The lies you tell about wolves have earned my utter disrespect. I will no longer read this magazine and if I see it in waiting rooms I will remove it and burn it so your crap doesn't spread!"

"If they're killing us, it's time to return the favor."

"humans need to learn to co-exhist with wolves, this world does NOT belong to people. People are not high and righteous over any animal. Hey if you have a gun with you, how about shooting in the air - that will scare a wolf off, instead of shooting it. Lets start hunting humans that look at you funny, lets start killing people that have aggression (god knows that's every single person living, excluding Buddhists). How about you get some morals & see that people aren't supperior, but people are the proble. Stop procreating you redneck hicks!!!!!!!"

"Not yet as log as they are not killing off the Elk and Deer Populations, then we are not at risk, but as soon as the Deer and Elk Numbers start going down then we should start hunting the Wolves."

"At this point I think more investigation into the "why" of the attack is needed. There are many possible explanations for a wolf pack to attack a human being who isn't provokinghat pack. Naturally, one reason may very well be rbies; anther may easily be that with all of the falling snow in that area the wolves are extremely hungry and desparate to find anything to eat, including a person."

"How many Canadians were killed by dogs between 1990 and 2000 ? - time to hunt dogs?"

"Absolutely not should wolves be hunted by humans.Â¿Â¿ Surely, as intelligent beings, we can come up with a better solution than to hunt them."

"open a season! I watched a large wolfÂ¿Â¿ surprise deer at my michigan U.P. bait pile. The deer wanted some lunch....so did the wolf! I saw a fraction of the deer I normally do...I blame the wolves."

"It was time to start hunting wolves even before the attack."

"It is important to put into perspective that out of the millions of humans that have lived and died in North America over the last two centuries, this is the first, documented fatal wolf attack.Â¿Â¿ The lesson to be learned from this tragedy is that humans have the ability to significantly affect animal behavior and that precautions should be taken with any wild animal whether they are a wolf or a whitetail; not whether or not we should hunt them.Â¿Â¿ Implementing hunting or trapping seasons on animals should be based on sound science and management policy not unfounded hysteria."

"Everybody knows that "No wild animals are safe."Â¿Â¿ Therefore, a person in the wild is not safe, so if you long for security, you're free to stay home.Â¿Â¿ I agree that wolves are doing well, perhaps well enough to be managed via hunting, but trying to demonize them is not the way to politically battle for a hunting season.Â¿Â¿ I find it very disrespectful and offensive to speak of any wild animal as a mere monstrous beast.Â¿Â¿ It is sad should anyone cease to be amazed at the adept predatory abilities of a wolf, whether dangerous or not.Â¿Â¿ Is personal safety in the woods that which is truly desired?Â¿Â¿ If personal safetyÂ¿Â¿ was assured by the laws of the government, I would not enjoy the outdoors.Â¿Â¿ But if we're arguing for convenience, then I'd say more roads, more garbage cans, more fire rings, more trails, and less threatening wildlife, less wilderness. (I dare you to make that the new motto of Field and Stream.)Â¿Â¿ A hunter, Field and Stream reader, and fellow outdoorsman, Jesse Kolar" Â¿Â¿

"I hope that my 12 ga coach gun will help me stay on top of the food chain"

"These incidents appear to be few and far between.Â¿Â¿ Anytime sportsman set out into the wild there is some likelihood of danger, that's what keeps it interesting.Â¿Â¿ If we start hunting wolves now, the fledging packs will be killed off relatively quickly.Â¿Â¿ They need several more years without any hunting pressure."

"Should We Hunt Them?Â¿Â¿ YES!!"

"Are wolves dangerous to humans? They certainly can be. However, that does not justify prematurely opening a hunting season on them. If we eliminated everything in the wild that posed any danger to humans, not only would nature be a much more artificially sterile place, but we would continue to disrupt the cycle of life that we hunter's constantly claim to respect. Every outdoorsperson should enter nature, particularily wolf country, with the caution it deserves."

"As the population in our country continues to grown and as the line between rural and urban continues to collide I believe we are going hear more reports of predator attacks on humans.Â¿Â¿ In areas where there seems to be more contact between wolves and humans then I believe that a well thought out hunting seaon and management plan for dealing with the problem could help.Â¿Â¿ I believe that creating a hunting season and allowing man/woman to become the predator rather than the prey could go a long way towards curbing a wolf's desire to prey on humans.Â¿Â¿ There have been several past examples where wild animals who have felt no hunting pressure for years began feeling "comfortable" around humans.Â¿Â¿ They simply did not fear humans.Â¿Â¿ Upon implementing a hunting season for said species their "comfort" with human interaction decreased almostÂ¿Â¿ immediately and they began to keep there distance from humans.Â¿Â¿ I am not a wildlife managment specialist but it seems to me that implenting a hunting season for wolves in areas where it is needed would have the same affect on wolves as hunting seasons have had on other species that became "comfortable" with human interaction.Â¿Â¿ I believe the goal of any plan that is implemented should be to not only try and protect humans but to properly manage a precious natural resource." Â¿Â¿

"Shoot em all" Â¿Â¿

"This is a misleading article.Â¿Â¿ The wolves had been fed by human beings and had lost some fear of people.Â¿Â¿ Most wolves are fearful of humans, unless taught otherwise.Â¿Â¿ Use this opportunity to educate your readers, not frighten people with misleading information.Â¿Â¿ Please present the facts and not sensationalize a young man's death." Â¿Â¿

"Yes, you need to start hunting wolves, but there should still be a limit on them, so that the number of wild wolves does not, again, be threatened of extiction. We all have to eat to live, but in some cases, that is not nessesary."

"We should be able to hunt wolves once a clear number and quota rate is established.Â¿Â¿ Just hunting wolves, which are very intelligent, will instill a fear of humans in the pack.Â¿Â¿ Without hunting wolves, or any wild creature for that matter, have no reason to be afraid of the slow, clumsy, fatty, weak, clawless, furless, creatures we humans are."

"The leasons of aggression toward humans by unhunted large predators have been tragicly taught by cougers in California for several years now.Â¿Â¿ Its time we learn them, begin hunting, and reestablish ourselves at the top of the food chain.Â¿Â¿ "Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it." Â¿Â¿

"Wolves should be reintroduced when ever there is suitable habitat, but also when ever a population can support it, a hunting season envoked." Â¿Â¿

"We should definitely be hunting wolves. States like Minnesota, Wisconsin, and UP Michigan have pockets of huntable populations. Also, Yellowstone and the Western Parks could use hunting as a management tool." Â¿Â¿ implementing a hunting season for said species their "comfort" with human interaction decreased almostÂ¿Â¿ immediately and they began to keep there distance from humans.Â¿Â¿ I am not a wildlife managment specialist but it seems to me that implenting a hunting season for wolves in areas where it is needed would have the same affect on wolves as hunting seasons have had on other species that became "comfortable" with human interaction.Â¿Â¿ I believe the goal of any plan that is implemented should be to not only try and protect humans but to properly manage a precious natural resource." Â¿Â¿

"Shoot em all" Â¿Â¿

"Wolves should be reintroduced when ever there is suitable habitat, but also when ever a population can support it, a hunting season envoked." Â¿Â¿

It's Time to Hunt Wolves

fieldandstream-editor — Mon, 26 Dec 2005 04:10:00 -0500

A FUNDAMENTAL ASSERTION in support of wolf reintroduction-the almost constantly repeated claim that no documented case exists in North America of a fatal wolf attack on a human being in more than a century-was refuted, tragically, last month.

On the evening of November 8th, two hours after he went for a walk, alone, the torn body of twenty-two-year old Kenton Joel Carnegie, an Ontario geological engineering student completing a work-study program with a mining company in northern Saskatchewan, was found by his co-workers, surrounded by wolf tracks. Autopsy results confirmed animal bites as the cause of death. In the same area, less than a year earlier, another man fought off an unprovoked attack by a healthy wolf, suffering serious injuries. This has shattered the myth of the retiring, no-threat-to-people wolf.

Between 1990 and 2000, almost two-dozen instances of wolf aggression toward humans were officially recorded, including obvious attempts to kill and eat a person. With growing numbers of wolves in the Lower 48, widespread benign misconceptions about their predatory nature, a decline in the species they prey on due to their own highly efficient hunting, and no hunting programs for them as yet in place, such incidents can only continue, if not increase. A hunter or anyone outdoors in wolf country should be aware that any wolf he encounters, that does not immediately turn and run, isn't merely curious or wanting to be petted, but is eyeing him the way a famished ten-year-old eyes a Big Mac.

Past wolf coverage from Field & Stream
Is it Time to Hunt Wolves? (April '01)
http://www.fieldandstream.com/fieldstream/fieldnotesnews/article/0,13199,548552,00.html

Return of the Wolf (June '05)
http://www.fieldandstream.com/fieldstream/columnists/article/0,13199,575850,00.html

Night of the Wolf (November '00)
http://www.fieldandstream.com/fieldstream/columnists/article/0,13199,365973,00.html

Think we should be hunting wolves? Take the poll found near the bottom of our home page and let us know. We'll run your responses in our March 2005 issue.

You can also send us your thoughtson this issue by typing them in the field below.

How to Raise a Hunter

fieldandstream-editor — Tue, 15 Nov 2005 04:15:00 -0500

Table of Contents

Online Exclusive:More resources to help young hunters

The Story: By Kieth Mccafferty
You can't force your child to be a sportsman. But if you find the right way to share your love for the outdoors with him or her, you can create the best hunting partner you'll ever have. Here is one man's story of how he did it. ... Read More

A Love of the Wild: By T. Edward Nickens
To pass along a passion for wildlife and a strong conservation ethic, you need to instill in your kids an understanding of animals that has more to do with science than Disney. Pair that with your own enthusiasm for the woods, and the result will be a lifelong awe of the wild-and a conservation ethic that makes itself known in the field and at the polls ... Read More

The Safest Sport: By Philip Bourjaily
As an overprotective modern parent who gets nervous when my kids ride bicycles to a friend's house, I would not teach my children to hunt if I thought it were dangerous. Better they have a gun in their hands, than, say, a skateboard. Hunting and shooting have low accident rates precisely because we place so much emphasis on gun safety. Although hunting should be fun, teaching kids to be safe shooters doesn't call for much sense of humor. Treat the topic seriously, and children will respond to the gravity in your voice. ... Read More

Do the Right Thing: By Bill Heavey
You can't treat "teach son hunting ethics" as another item on your Saturday to-do list. Helping a child develop a healthy respect for the wild and a hunter's place in it is a matter of character, and that is not created overnight. Raising an ethical child is a long process, like building a rock dam across a creek. You have to thoughtfully choose and place the stones, a single one at a time. ... Read More

Coping with Killing: By David E. Petzal
If you give a youngster a tennis racket or a soccer ball or a baseball bat, you can teach him or her about sportsmanship and competition. If you give a boy or girl a gun, you teach that child about life and death. People who kill things can be more reverential of life than people who do not. The person who causes creatures' deaths and watches them struggle against it has an intimate knowledge of the tragedy of life departing. Nonhunters choose to ignore the fact that animals must die in order for us to eat, and hold forth on the cruelty of hunting while wolfing down veal scallopini that a week earlier was a terrified calf bawling in a slaughterhouse. Death is part of life for us and for all things. ... Read More

Beyond Hunter Ed: Programs That Keep Kids in the Field: By Philip Bourjaily
Congratulations, your child has passed hunter education and has a solid grounding in safety and ethics. Now what? There's so much more to learn, and the next steps are critical; as many as one-third of those who finish the class don't hunt the next year. If your young charge is all cammied up with no place to go, check out these state and private programs. ... Read More

After the Shot

fieldandstream-editor — Tue, 08 Nov 2005 04:25:00 -0500

Even a hard-hit deer can cover lots of ground before it goes down for good. There's only one certain path that leads to your trophy: Follow the steps below to make the job of following the blood trail easier and increase the probability of recovering every whitetail you shoot.

[BRACKET "1"] Never assume you've missed. Just last year I watched a buck walk away after my shot, seemingly unscathed. He paused in a clearing, looked calmly around for half a minute, then tipped over dead. Until you confirm that you've missed the shot, assume you've made it.

[BRACKET "2"] Watch the deer carefully as it runs off. You may see blood on the buck's hide that indicates where your bullet or arrow struck. Body language can also provide clues: paunch-shot deer frequently hunch up, and heart-shot bucks may leap when hit.

[BRACKET "3"] Memorize two locations before leaving your position: Point A is where the buck stood as you shot, and Point B is the last landmark you saw him pass.

[BRACKET "4"] Go immediately to Point A and search for blood. If none is present, walk slowly toward Point B until you find some. Mark the blood trail with surveyor's tape or reflective markers.

[BRACKET "5"] Analyze the blood. The presence of bubbles means a lung shot. Green or yellow matter within the blood indicates a hit to the paunch. Very dark red blood suggests the bullet went through muscle.

[BRACKET "6"] Proceed on the blood trail now if you're certain the hit was immediately fatal. Otherwise, wait several hours (on morning hunts) or overnight (on evening hunts). The exception is if you expect major precipitation, which could wash away the blood.

[BRACKET "7"] Go slowly and mark the trail every several yards. If the blood diminishes, this will help you determine the buck's likely path.

[BRACKET "8"] Remain patient if blood becomes difficult to find, and try these two tricks: (A) Stand at the last drop, look behind you at your marked trail, then project it forward. The next blood is apt to be along this line. (B) Make small circles ahead and to the sides of the last sign of blood, searching for further evidence. Gradually expand the size of this cloverleaf pattern until you pick up the trail again.

[BRACKET "9"] Keep at it. Recruit some buddies if need be. And when you find your buck, take some time to consider exactly what he did and where he went after the hit. Wounded whitetails exhibit similar behaviors. The more you learn from each buck you recover, the more readily you'll find the next one.