Here's to the good life

Traditionally, the start of each new year is reserved for reflection, reform and committing one’s next 360-some days to self-improvement. Given that it’s still January, rest assured this post will easily live up to all of your “new-year-new-whatever” expectations (… and then some, I sure hope).

For me, 2018 was fraught with challenges and lifestyle changes galore. I swapped careers, switched industries, relocated, sold my house, followed my heart, moved to yet another state, completed my master’s degree, and … a few other things I’m not ready to talk about just yet, if I’m being honest.

Through all the changes and challenges, hard losses and new starts, came plenty of good and just as much personal growth. Leaving the outdoor industry, Nebraska and people I loved that were part of both, was the first and most difficult challenge of my year – one I’ve still not fully overcome. Lucky for me, I’ve returned to ‘Braski plenty of times since leaving; to spend booze-filled weekends shooting prairie dogs and doves, chasing turkeys, stalking antelope, following dogs in search of pheasant and quail, hunting deer, and catching up with some quality folks that have quickly become family.

Cat's gotta eat.

While I owe a whole lot to one of those people – the antelope whisperer and trapper extraordinaire, not to mention man of my wildest dreams – present in some of my earlier posts, reflecting on the many lessons learned during 2018’s various hunting seasons have me thinking of another man entirely. The man who introduced me to the outdoors through his own deep-seeded passion for all things living; who had me reciting the definitions of photosynthesis and chlorophyll by the time I was a toddler; who taught me where to find crayfish and how to catch minnows, remove hooks, pick up snapping turtles, steer a canoe, escape a flipped kayak, climb trees, cook squirrels, shoot a gun, take animals apart so they could be turned into food … I owe the outdoor bug and my continued passion for learning all I can and doing the most with each opportunity I’m offered in the great outdoors to my dad.

Ron Shutter, the author's late father and outdoor inspiration.

Setting and emptying minnow traps - by far one of the author's favorite childhood pastimes. 

I lost him in 2015, before shooting my first deer or putting in for my first elk draw. In fact, it was that loss and my need to maintain a close emotional connection both to him and the many things he’d taught my brothers and me growing up, that led me to purchasing my first deer tag. And because it was such an emotional undertaking for me, it didn’t matter a bit that I was new to the responsibility of ethically taking a life – I went all in. That first tag allowed me to hunt deer during Nebraska’s lengthy archery season, which ran from early September through the end of December, and very unsurprisingly, it went unfilled.

Since then however, seldom have I eaten a tag regardless of species or season, with turkeys consistently being the exception to that norm. In short, Nebraska has been beyond good to me.

I’ve found the connection I was searching for, learned far more about myself than I ever expected to in the process, and fell desperately in love – with hunting, with ‘Braski and with the best all-around mentor, man and partner imaginable.

"Our kids will never know just how cool we really were."

So, while early 2018 saw me relocating to Sioux Falls, South Dakota, and seven months later again to Fargo-area, North Dakota, I still continue to return to Western Nebraska and know I always will. And during this first part of 2019, while I’m weathering the worst of NoDak’s brutal winter weather, putting in for this year’s various draws and waiting for springtime seasons to open once again, I’ll continue to reflect on last year’s most noteworthy adventures:

•         Spring turkey
•         Summertime prairie dog shoots
•         Archery antelope
•         Dove season
•         Rifle deer
•          Pheasant chases and quail Hail Mary’s
•         Muzzleloader deer

I figure I owe myself, and all of you as well, at least that much. 

Looking to become a better shot in the off-season? Prairie dog towns and a small-caliber rifle are all you really need.

After that, spring, turkey season and bow-shooting weather will have returned, which means I’ll be ‘Braski bound yet again – the prospect of a whole new year of firsts and of bonding with my old man, wherever he is, calling me back.