I’m proud to say the May 2013 issue of Outdoor Life magazine
includes a short piece about me in the “My Outdoor Life” section. The editor,
Andrew McKean, “interviewed” me by emailing a list of questions, which I
answered in writing. We covered much more than Andrew was able to publish in
the half-page article, so I’ll put up my lengthy answers here in three posts. Here’s
the second part.
Deer hunting with Andrew McKean in Montana
Q: There's a lot about you that impresses me, but one of the
most remarkable details is that your passion for hunting hasn't dimmed.
Post-ALS, where have you hunted? Any remarkable or memorable hunts in the mix?
A: I refuse
to let a minor setback like an incurable, fatal illness diminish my passion for
hunting or my zest for life.
I’ve done
more hunting in the six years since my diagnosis than in the 16 years prior! As
explained earlier, I went through a long stretch when opportunities to hunt
were scarce and I had other demands on my time. Shortly after my diagnosis I
jettisoned from my vocabulary phrases like “some day” and “maybe next year,”
and started taking advantage of as many opportunities as possible. Since 2006
I’ve hunted in British Columbia (black bear on Vancouver Island); North Carolina
(whitetail, squirrel); Georgia (whitetail, turkey), South Carolina (whitetail,
turkey, wild hog, squirrel); Florida (alligator, hog); Alabama (whitetail);
Texas (fallow deer, axis deer, hog); Wyoming (pronghorn, mule deer, prairie
dog); Idaho (black bear); Montana (whitetail, mule deer); Argentina (red stag,
European boar); Uruguay (feral hog).
As I answer
this question I look around my living room and see antlers, skulls, hides and
dozens of photos on display to remind me of wonderful days afield. Three hunts
stand out for three different reasons.
June 2006, Vancouver Island
black bear
I had
booked this hunt with Vancouver Island Guide Outfitters a year in advance, when
my symptoms were just beginning to show. My doctor issued the diagnosis of ALS
just one month before I was to embark on the adventure, so I asked his opinion.
“Bear hunting? Don’t go. It could be too strenuous.”
Ligia and I agreed that the rewards
of taking the trip would justify all efforts involved. It would be far worse
for my health to simply give up and stay home. The only ones who regret our
decision to go on that hunt are the doctor—we found a new one—and the original
owner of the 7-foot black bear skin that now adorns our wall. I had a fantastic
time, saw some gorgeous country and realized that even a guy with ALS can, and
should, get out to try new experiences. This trip’s success encouraged me to plan
more hunts.
December 2008, South
Carolina squirrels
During Christmas week at Bang’s
Paradise Valley Hunting Club in Ehrhardt ,
South Carolina
We had a hoot that morning as the
three of us took turns using my adaptive shooting gear to pick off bushytails.
More importantly, that outing led to a lasting friendship. Since then, Klay
always comes to see me when I’m back at Paradise Valley
October 2009, Wyoming
pronghorn and mule deer
When I told my friend Ron Wagner
that I’d like to try hunting out West, he immediately replied, “Just say when
and where. I’ll be there for you.”
Research on the Internet led me to
an outfitter in Wyoming
who accepted the challenge of guiding a disabled hunter. Ron and I, along with
our wives, had a fun, action-packed trip. We marveled at the landscapes and saw
plenty of game every day—new, exciting game for us Eastern boys.
We shot pronghorns and prairie dogs
early in the week, and on the fourth morning of our hunt, Ron helped me take a
mule deer. Another dream came came true when I gripped that muley’s antler and
inhaled the invigorating, snowy air.
That adventure taught me that, yes,
dreams come true, but nobody delivers fulfilled dreams to your doorstep. I was
inspired to keep planning new adventures and put forth the effort to make my
dreams become reality.
Q: And why do you continue to hunt even though it takes such
a physical toll on your body?
A: Although
he encouraged me to pursue my interests, my dad was no outdoorsman, so hunting
never came easily for me. If I wanted to go, I was on my own, or I had to find
neighbors or cousins willing to take me.
I never
took hunting for granted, and I learned to cherish my time in the woods. Now,
when I see a sunrise, hear a red stag roar, breathe in the scents of the woods,
feel the adrenaline rush that only hunters know, I forget any discomfort I may
have endured to get out there.
During a bear hunt in the Idaho Rockies, as
the guide was driving Ron and me in his Mitsubishi 4x4 over a terribly bumpy
logging road, he noticed that my head was getting jolted around quite a bit.
“Do all these bumps bother your neck?” he asked. I laughed and asked, “If I say
yes, what can you do about it?”
My
philosophy is, “If you wanna play, you gotta pay.”
But I do
need to pace myself on a trip, typically hunting only mornings or afternoons.
Researching
and planning the next hunt keeps my mind engaged in positive activity—a crucial
factor for anyone with a physically debilitating illness. Cancer patients
receive chemotherapy, so I decided to treat my ALS with camotherapy.
Besides,
what else is there to do? I never learned needlepoint and I’m lousy at checkers.
In the Idaho Rockies , June 2010
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