Hey everyone, I am sorry I could not get back to you all sooner. I was up at our secret lease in Wisconsin putting up tree stands, finding pinch points, setting trail cameras and cutting shooting lanes. The photos above are of me on the lease and with the buck that I shot with my .243 last November. This year has been the busiest hunting year yet, so I have been making sure that everything is perfect for our hunting land up north, practicing my bow, and also being mentally prepared.
 Imagine the buck of a life time, trudging in on a cold, frosty November morning, the leaves crackling and the distant scurry of a squirrel. He turns broadside and stops, vapor shooting from its nostrils as it smells for a hot doe. But then as you begin the pull back, your rattling antlers fall of your seat and land on the cold metal of your tree stand. The clank echoes through the woods and sends the buck darting away with the bright, white swish of his tail. I like to think about it all going wrong, rattling antlers falling, a missed shot, or the faint whiff of car exhaust still lingering from the ride in. All of these variables can ruin all that you worked so hard to make come together.

  So, my father and I traveled to our lease in central Wisconsin and hiked miles to find the best points to set our tree stands. The buck pictured above was shot from a tree that we decided was going to stay a permanent stand spot. The second stand was put up next to a swamp and at the intersection of several deer trails. This spot is going to be the Big Buck Zone. When the hunting pressure starts to pick up, the deer are going to go to the swamp for sanctuary. Most of the deer will be does and where there are does, there will be mature bucks looking for them.
  We also set two trail cameras, both at the intersection of several major deer trails. Within days of leaving Wisconsin, I eagerly wanted to rush back up and look at the photos taken thus far.  I am anxious to see if this little buck we caught on trailcam last year has grown much.  Lord help me if he is.

  With opening day just weeks away I am extremely eager and excited to get after those big whitetails.

In January of 2010, my family made it last move, this time to Illinois. Ahhh, the Midwest. The home of some of the biggest whitetail buck in the entire world. Settling in was harder than NJ had been but when hunting season came around that all went of a long hold. I was twelve at this point, old enough to shoot a rifle in most states.  One of our neighbors invited us to their property in Kentucky for the opening youth gun hunt. I was excited to hunting with my brand new Savage .243 for the first time.
 It was a six hour drive through the heart of Illinois. When we got to the property it was hot. Too hot.
I thought that I might not get a chance to hunt. We settled in at a bunk house down the road and waited until morning. We woke to a brilliant starlight and set off on out separate ways, me and my dad were set up in a blind overlooking a small field.
 For that entire morning we didn't see one deer. There was some work to be done around the property that afternoon. When the work was over me and my dad moved to a second blind a ways away set in the woods. It didn't take long though for a row of turkeys to come gobbling along the trail. They spooked off for some reason or another. That reason was a small doe walking in on the trail. I froze, my heart speeding up the same way it did that one night in NJ. I took aim and fired. She dropped immediately. I felt relived and very excited on getting my first deer kill.
 Later that day I realized that I had made an almost perfect shot, I had hit both lungs and the heart.

 That opening day in Kentucky was a very memorable one. Unfortunately, I do not have any photos of me and the doe, so your going to have to use you imagination on this one.

After getting my license the matter came to down to find a place to hunt. Our neighborhood was surrounded by woods, that seemed good enough. My father convinced the neighbors into allowing us to hunt near the houses. So when hunting season came around we would cross the road into the woods and into our tree stand. The first few hunts, we saw little activity, a few deer here and there, none in bow range. My father claims to have seen a large buck in the distance, but it is still a controversy.
 Then came a night to remember. We went out as usual, and stood in the stand. For hours nothing occurred. Then just before the end of shooting light, a large mature doe walks around our stand and stops broadside at 15 yards. Perfect! I slowly pulled back, my heart was painfully pounding on my chest. The doe was right there! I was so close, but then, the strap of my tree harness caught and stopped my arm. I couldn't pull back any further! Panic took hold and I desperately yanked on my bow string, the slight movement was enough for the doe to see. She bolted out of sight.

 Ok I think we all know now that the lesson learned is to always clear your tree stand strap away from your arm that is pulling the bow back. I know this will never happen again.

 Aside from some very fun fishing, hunting was also fun. I first had to go through hunters safety, which included a two inch thick booklet and countless online videos over the course of two months. Every night I would crack open my book and read for a hour. I spent a portion of my waking hours studying and taking notes. I finally felt prepared for my test. I went to a small farm where many kids my age had already gathered for the first portion of the test. The first portion included me shooting a shot gun for the first time in my life. I really felt nervous and shook as I sighted down the barrel and hit the clay pigeon with my fist shot. I gained more confidence and hit the one after that and just brushed the third. The first test was done, three more to go. The next trail was again easy, I was great shooting the .22 but came a little too close to losing my hand after making a slight mistake in the muzzleloader test, but again I passed.

 I don't need to talk about the bow target area, from 35 yards I got all my arrows in a nice group. Then it all came down to the written test. All those hours of studying now came play. It was a long one about 150 to 200 questions. I turned it in after a good hour and waited for the score. The rest is history, I aced the exam and it my hunting license later that afternoon.

Me fishin' the Yellowstone River

  While living in Michigan, my father really got me into fishing. We would on any given afternoon, go out to a near by lake or pond and fish for perch and bass. It was great fun, I was about four years old, I could cast, but it wouldn't go very far out. It ended up being my dad casting and when the rod got a hit I would reel the fish in. In-between all of this, I would spend my time deeply concentrated on playing with the little plastic worms in my tackle box. All of this continued until 2005 when my family moved from Michigan to Tennessee. During my time in Tennessee I never got much of a chance to be outdoors, so we are going to skip this portion if my outdoors life.
  In 2007, we moved again. This time to New Jersey. I must explain that this state is highly stereotyped, to many people think that it is exactly like Jersey Shore. Well listen up, NJ is actually very beautiful state, with rolling hills covered with millions of acres of woodland and miles of deep, cold and rocky streams (Trout!). Within weeks of moving in, we unpacked the rods and started fishing. Every Saturday morning, we would wake up early, dress, grab a cup of coffee and a bagel and head to the Ken Lockwood Gorge. This river was full of Brown, Rainbow, and Brook trout. It had a very rocky bottom and boulders that dotted the river like islands. I had not received my waiters yet, that comes later, so I was trudging into a freezing cold river, half-asleep, bare legged with crocs two sizes too small. That woke me up quicker than the coffee.
  Together, me and my dad would walk for miles up and down the river catching that days lunch along the way. I don't remember much about  any specific fish caught except for one, this following incident was one that I will not soon forget.
 It was early in the morning and me and my father woke to go fishing. We followed our regular routine and packed into the GMC tired but happy to be going fishing. We got tot the river and waded in , we fished for about an hour and by this time the sun was shining perfectly I to the water. I had experienced fly fishing before. I am not saying that I am the best but I had an good enough knowledge to cast well. So, I saw this big rock next to a very hole in the river, seeing this as a good spot for a fish, I hopped on to the slippery boulder. The sun then reveled a large blob many yards ahead in the hole, I decided to try it out. I fished the hole until, BOOM, I got a very big hit. It fought heavily, I watched it flash and realized that it was the biggest rainbow I have ever hooked. My dad jumped in help and we both pulled a fought this monster, then... SNAP! The fish got away with my fly and part of my line.
 Now I have learned two lessons from this experience. One, before you fish, it is probably a good thing to check your line for knots and abrasions. And second, it's fishing. The big fish is going get away sometimes and you need to be ok with that. A day of fishing is better than a day of doing something else. Anything
 The picture below is of me at eight months with my grandfather Doug and my father Scott, true outdoorsmen. I was happiest in camo, so they tell me.

Well that's a little weird, I assumed that the blog would go from top to bottom, well it goes from bottom to top. For those of you reading this, the blog starts at the bottom of the page, that is the start of my story.

 The way that I see it, there are two types of outdoorsmen, those who want to feel a sudden and exciting rush of adrenaline, and those who seek to admire natures dynamic beauty. If those two had a baby it would come out as hunter/fisherman. We are our own breed, love the feeling of  drawing back on a broadside whitetail, to feel your heart leap into your throat and your palms sweat with anticipation. To release that arrow or pull the trigger on that gun while sending all of your concentration along the way to a nice clean kill gives a sense of relief, that you have executed your skill to its very limits, that cannot be compared to anything else in this world.

 I was born in March, 1998 in Mount Pleasant, Michigan (for those of you looking for it on a map, it is quite literally smack dab in the middle of the mitten). Growing up in Michigan I came along on many hunting trips. I can vaguely remember sitting in my grandparents living room, the news playing softly on the television only to be abruptly interrupted by the crack of a rifle. This was followed by much excitement as we prepared to receive the lucky hunter. These few early memories really gave me a good impression of the hunting world. As I grew I came to love to outdoors, and I was eager for more.