I'm not claiming to be old and knowledgeable but there was certainly a time in my life when I was less old and less knowledgeable

I'm not claiming to be old and knowledgeable here but there was a time, and it really was not that long ago, where I was less old and certainly less knowledgeable. When I decided I wanted to take up harvesting my own meat, I really had no idea how I was going to go about this once I passed the examination. I thought about who I knew that hunted and it occurred to me that no one that I spent a lot of time with at the time did much hunting. I did however recall a good old friend,(one of those guys you will forever be able to trust) Brett King, who loved to hunt. So the evening after I passed my course I gave his Mom a call. Brett and I were friends in the age where you had to memorize phone numbers.......and I can still recall that number today. I asked his Mom for his cell number and I gave him a call keeping in mind I had not seen him for a couple years

"So Brett, long time no talk. What have you been up to? I passed my hunting course today.... are you doing any hunting at all this season"
"What are you doing tomorrow morning"
"Well nothing actually"
"Good! Meet me at the North McDonalds parking lot at 6:30AM and we will head out"

Boy was I excited! my first hunting excursion. This story however is not about that trip. During that day though Brett invited me to come moose hunting with him and some other guys that would become good friends of mine. First though he would have to run it past them. While I am sure they were a little hesitant to bring along a recent carnivore convert (I had given up eating meat for a time before that), they did eventually agree to let me come along.

Story 1:

After loading up hundreds of pounds of gear onto the three wheelers we slowly sauntered deep into the bush. Very deep into the bush. The kind of deep where the crazy old Ukrainians pass through on their odd excursion, offering you words of wisdom on moonshine, star gazing and muskrat stew. On our way through the bush, we happened on a very aesthetically pleasing plot of land just below the quad trail at the side of a river. NOW, forever note that bush camp locations should not be chosen based on aesthetics. You are not trying to match the fucking drapes with the evergreen backdrop. Bush camp locations should be chosen based on practicality. Here is the deal, the bottom of a valley sees the least amount of sun so you spend most of your time in the dark, and when it starts to pour.... guess where the rain goes. Right down the quad trail where there is no vegetation to stop it. We were young, and not so knowledgeable.

I have to explain the tent here for those of you that are not familiar with the workings of a canvas tent. A canvas tent is a big tent that you can stand up in and this one could fit 5 or 6 men and their cots. There is no bottom to the tent and usually there is a hole for a chimney so you can keep warm if you bring a small wood stove. It is kind of like a teepee for white people. We never really caught onto the whole concept of the power of the circle except when it comes to propelling us down the highway.

Now remember.... this is November. I am not saying it was a particularly cold November, but alas, it was still a November. We were slightly prepared, but as I stated before, there was a time in my life where I was younger and much less knowledgeable.

On about the second day it started to pour. And I mean it fucking poured. We were out hunting and when we came back there was a river running right smack through the middle of our tent. Not only that but the river was pooling in the south east corner of the tent where a young lad had made his sleeping quarters. We were wet and cold and had hoped to come back to a dry tent. This would not be the case. Certain member of the party began to panic as the realization set in that we would not be getting dry any time soon. Civilization was thirty miles away and we had just enough gas to get one rusty old three-wheeler back to the parking lot by the time it would get dark out, that is if we could even make it up the slick quad trail to begin with. We began to worry about what to do and talks were being formed on contingency plans of how to get our sorry selves back to the vehicles. The dark recesses of my mind began to overcome all positive thinking, when suddenly I had a revelation, a brain wave if you will. I would construct a ditch. The river would be diverted and the pool at the back would be drained. I would cut spruce bows for those that had been sleeping on the previously dry ground and perhaps we would be okay after all. I took stock of the tools at hand.... an axe and...... yup that was it. So I flipped the axe head upside down and began to dig. And fuck me if it didn't just work pretty darn swell. By the time the clouds darkened with night the river had been diverted, the pool partially drained and the warm glow of the camp stove was slowly washing away the disheartened thoughts we had shared only hours before. I can't say we ended up completely unscathed from the event. The youngest member of the party took sick and ended up staying in bed for a number of days while the rest of us went out to have fun.

Story 2

While there was a time in my life where I was young and less knowledgeable, there was also a time in my life where I was young, less knowledgeable and far more broke than I am now. To get up moose hunting we had one truck and trailer and one 1989 Volkswagen Jetta. On the way up we were able to put most of our belongings into the trailer, but the way back was a vastly different story. I had come with Brett in the Jetta and while moose hunting, Brett's dog took sick and it was necessary that we get back to the city and prudently get him in to see a veterinarian. This posed a problem. How were we going to get myself, Brett, his dog, all of our gear and two field dressed deer back to Regina. Well we only had one option of course, and that was the Volkswagen Jetta. After meticulously packing the Jetta we headed on our way. As soon as we hit the highway the sound of trouble erupted from the rear right of the vehicle. We had a flat. Where was the spare tire? Underneath two deer and a mountain of gear of course. So on the side of the highway we unloaded a mountain of gear and two deer and we proceeded to put on the donut. By the time we finished putting everything back it was dark and we drove the four hours to Regina doing 140 in a severely overburdened Jetta with a donut. We made it though, and this is why I now own a truck.