The Great Hunt of 2018

My much diminished blogging has me posting my first blog of the year when the year is almost over.

Another first in my life occurred over the last week. I went hunting for deer.  I had never before had a hunting license, much less gone out with the intention of killing some creature for meat.

Earlier this year my brother- and sister-in-law purchased some land down in southern Iowa, and for weeks he had told me I need to go get my license and a tag and come deer hunting with him.  I was already intending to take some time off for a family Christmas which just happened to coincide with the first half of the 2nd shotgun season here in Iowa.  The family gathering was cancelled for a variety of reasons, so it worked out well that I could go with him.

My first Great Hunt....or as I have learned this years tagline should be, "5 days of bonding, freezing my ass off, and no meat or trophy to show for it."

Day 1 was very exciting, partially due to this being a brand new experience for me, but also because that is the day we saw plenty of deer. Unfortunately for us the big push that came our way managed to pass through far enough away from our position for us to get a clean shot.  A little while later, my brother-in-law went to move the truck up towards the gate from the bottom of the property when luck struck.  I was positioned near the southeast corner of the property and witnessed our first fortune.  As he pulled up close, a young button buck invaded the property from the west. Mr. Buttons, as we called him, froze up.  Phil, however, did not. He popped from the truck, grab his gun and level it out over the opened door. At this point I had not seen the deer just inside the fence line. I followed the direction of his pointed gun and saw the deer standing there just staring at him. Then I heard the Boom and no more deer.  A shout of "Woo-Hoo!" came from Phil. Mere hours into our first day, and we were doing well.  Phil with his newest pal pictured below:

Day 2 found only 1 deer on the property, literally as it was jumping the fence to leave, and about 100 yards out, mooning Phil as she left.

Day 3, I went out on my own to some public hunting land near the metro.  Any other time of the year I could look out there and see plenty. I think they had been spooked over the past couple weeks of hunting and saw none.

Day 4, back to the property. Only 1 buck and a couple of does seen, none of them on the property.

I kicked myself for giving in to the cold. Had I waited another 10 to 15 minutes, that buck would literally have presented himself to me as a gift.  If only I would've just listened to my Uncle George's words of hunker down in one spot and wait to see if a deer or the end of the day comes first. I never did listen too well, and have a tendency to be impatient. This time it bit me in the ass.  I have spent the last couple weeks watching friends and family posting pictures from successful hunts, and I wanted so badly to be able to do the same.  I HATE, and I mean absolutely hate, not being successful at something the first time out.  I didn't care if I got some massive trophy buck or some small doe, I just wanted something worth taking a picture of while being able to fill my freezer with meat. Obviously, the arcade game Big Buck Hunter, where they present me with prey to shoot, is clearly more my speed, and completely different from the realities of being out in the countryside waiting on targets to come through.

I have received wishes of luck, reminders not to shoot myself or anyone else (especially my brother-in-law), and a few requests for deer meat from people who clearly had more faith in my hunting abilities than reality has shown.  I was told a few times not to get discouraged if I don't shoot anything.  I am frustrated, to say the least, and not looking forward to going back to work without having killed something. Discouraged, however, I am not. I intend to go out hunting again (and maybe listen to advice a little better), and hopefully have better outings where I will get to show off pictures of my own.

Quantum Theory Has The Cubs Winning the World Series

Now, maybe I don't have a firm grasp on everything there is to know in this universe of ours. I know what you're thinking. Mookie DOESN'T know everything? Yes, hard t believe but true. And part of that reason is any subject that began with the word "quantum" generally sent me into my own little world to ignore a subject that more theory than possibly conflicting facts.

I now believe in Quantum something or another Theory. I have decided, after working last night, that somewhere in an alternate universe, the Chicago Cubs did in fact win the Wolrd Series. How do I know this. Because Hell Has Frozen Over in Iowa!

Not only did we get more snow in one storm system than we have had since 1996, (we had 16 inches dumped on us), but the temperatures dropped into single digits with windchills WAY below zero. The wind was gusting between 45 and 60 miles per hour, creating white out conditions. And not just regular white out like you use on paper, and can see the mistake...this was Super White Out. It erased the front end of my patrol car from visibility altogether. Recently plowed roads were re-covered by a big blanket of white blown back ontot he roadway by the highg winds...most multilane roads had one driveable path, and if it was a two way road....well let's just say that thanks to a big tractor looking snowplow who refused to hold up until I could get around a big drift that erased part of the road, I became stuck...100 feet from the building my work is located in, and 400 feet from the building that I was responding to an alarm at. Naturally noone was available to help a rentacop out. so, I ran (and by run I mean in slowmo as I bounded through drift after drift like some sort of sled dog with only 2 legs) to the shop grabbed a shovel and proceeded to scoop my patrol car free. In the process I could barely see the car I was scooping free, and simultaneously trying to remain in position to do the job as th wind tried to blow my butt across the road. My already cold legs that had been exposed to lots of snow from earlier events, were now being windburned THROUGH my pants. Already exposed to moisture and frozen half solid, this was not good. I'm pretty sure I died from exposure...twice.

To back up a bit....I got up in plenty of time to go to work, but i spent ten minutes getting unstuck from my parking spot here at home. I make it to the shop..well the south entrance to the parking lot, and spend 20 minutes digging my way out of that with an ice scraper of all things. I go to the north entry, get stuck there, and it was an hour after I originally got on scene before my car was rescued and allowed to be parked in the lot behind our work garage. I braved the treacherous roads, and was forced to do more drive-by checks than actual lot patrols at many of my accounts as there was NO way to access the property without getting stuck again, and I'll be damned if they pay me enough to bound through nut-high snow drifts in single digit temperatures just to walk around a building while I risk my patrol car getting bashed up or buried by the DOT snow plows going up and down the mai roads in fruitless efforts to keep them open even a little bit.

I made a few extra efforts to make a more complete job at properties, btu most of it was simply driving the roads around them and making sure there was nothing visibly wrong with the places. Then at about 4am, I get a call to go to a residential house buried deep in the heart of residential development and about 6 or 7 blocks from any main road. I made it down the side street that intersected the street I was looking for. Then I humped it the 75 yards through snow and high winds blasting my face just to walk around a house that has been drifted shut, and showed no signs of entry. the alarm were interior motion alarms, no perimeters. I leave, I manage to get back to the main road and on my way....20 minutes later, I get teh call for the same place, same alarm. The homeowner is in Denver, and insists we re-check the place. All I have to say is the only way someone was going to burgle that house was to come up from underground and drill through the slab underneath. So back I go down the side road that hasn't seen a plow in probably 8 hours or more, hike through the snow to their house where I could hike through more snow and find out that there still was nothing wrong with their place. I told the alarm dispatch compnay representative that the resident owes me a christmas present for that kind of service...with a tow ban in effect, had I gotten stuck down in that neighborhood, well, lets just say it would be tomorrow or the next day before they would be allowed to come rescue me.

After that all was well...for awhile. I ate breakfast INSIDE the Mcdonald's where they had a cleared out parking lot. I needed to warm up and relax for a bit. Then I got called for 2 different alarms.....on the way to the second one was when I got stuck, as described above, by the shop. Then, my relief got his personal car stuck outside his driveway. I had to go pick him up. I got the patrol car stuck around the corner and a half block down from his place....more shoveling. I will be the first guy who dies of a hernia and a heart attack at the age of 30, along with hypothermia and some frostbite. This is honestly what I was thinking during this shoveling incident. But, we got out, got him to work. I shoveled my personal car out of its spot behind the shop so I could come home. I get on the road out to the main artery, where I got stuck again in the plow slushed mess. I used my cold wet booted feet as the shovel to kick everything out of the way, so my little car could actually get moving. Didn't matter at that point, I was ready to amputate with or without anesthesia anytime. My feet felt like blocks of ice, or frozen clubfoot.

The low fuel light was on. So I had to baby the car to the nearest accessible gas station. As I pull in, I see two guys stalking me. One with a camera, the other with a microphone. Having been, what I can assume was fully rested over the night while I worked, they came up and asked to interview me about my night and the weather.

You see, I really am that important. The local metro news needs MY opinion. However, I do have a face built for radio, and a voice for silent movies. I suspect any mention of me might be my name, and a recapping of my comments by the reporter with his pretty little made-for-tv face.

But now, it is time to warm my innards with coffee, and my feet somehow. In the army, they always taught us to put our cold hands either in our armpits or crotch to avoid frostbite and exposure issues, since those two areas are teh warmest on our bodies. I contemplated this with my feet, then realized I'm not that flexible to begin with, and there is no way that could be comfortable even if I did manage to cram my feet into my armpits or crotch like some advanced yoga pose.

I expect better working conditions tonight, or I just may quit. Should've listened to my wife and just stayed home from work last night. I blame my dad for instilling such a sense of responsibility in me...damn him anyways!