By the time this goes to press, I hope I will be back from Oklahoma. It’s been about four years since I have had the opportunity to chase the Midwestern bucks and it’s long overdue. For years and years after college I camped out in Montana and New Mexico. Not in the literal sense, but I either hunted the bull elk of Sierra Blanco or the bucks on the Frenchman Creek in Northeastern Montana just south of Saskatchewan every year.

I’ll have to admit those bugling bulls on the mountainsides would send chills up and down my spine. They would give me firsthand, a taste of the true wilderness. The turning aspen, the clear running streams full of trout, and the white peaks of the snow capped mountains would fulfill my getaway dreams and revitalize my soul.

As fond as I am of the mountains though, my true love is for those Midwestern whitetail bucks. The bucks on the Milk River in Montana, the Platte River in Nebraska, and the Arkansas River in Kansas will always be special in my heart.

I really can’t remember when or why I missed a year of heading west with my rifle, but one day I woke up and had missed a season or two. It may have been because I didn’t draw a tag. It could have been because of a business meeting conflict. I’m sure the escalating prices of out-of-state hunts had something to do with it from time to time too, but regardless of the reasons, I have missed a few over the last 15 years. Well, good Lord willing, I hope I’m back in the groove again of being able to head west once again in pursuit of those beloved whitetails.

My dad always wanted to hunt a really big mule deer. He always spoke of hunting the Jicarillo Indian Reservation in New Mexico. Years ago, some of the largest mule deer bucks on the North American continent inhabited this reservation. They probably still do. For one reason or another, my dad never treated himself to that hunt of a lifetime. He was either too busy working to buy baseball gloves for me, braces for my sister, or planning something with mom. By the time he thought he could afford it, he wasn’t physically able to climb the mountains. In reality, I’m sure he could have gone and the bills would probably have still been paid, but he chose not to.

Don’t get me wrong, he didn’t deprive himself of the bucks in Mississippi. There are boxes and boxes of whitetail racks in his storage room. He just never made the trip to the mountains that he spoke of so often.

I mention this because I’m sure many of you have done the same thing or are about to. It is so easy to talk about and dream about taking that hunt of a lifetime and we never get around to doing it. I hear hunters say every year, “I was all set to go this year, but something came up at the last minute.” I have even said it myself. I encourage each of you to treat yourself to some kind of special outdoor excursion every year.

This doesn’t mean that we have to spend $8,000 dollars on an elk hunt or $20,000 dollars on a stone sheep hunt, but try to do something different each year. This could be anything from a squirrel hunt in Missouri to a dove hunt in Texas with close friends. Planning and taking these trips gives us something to look forward to during the course of the year. Phone calls to and from hunting partners break the everyday monotony of our work driven souls. Even a special trip in our home state will create lasting memories.

Let’s not wait around and let all of the seasons pass us by. My dad has said to me time and time again, “hunt while you are physically able.” There is a lot of wisdom in that statement. We better enjoy every sunrise and sunset we can because time passes quickly. Try not to miss it. Oh, I’ll let you know what’s happening in Oklahoma in a week or two.

Until next time enjoy our woods and waters, and remember, let’s leave it better than we found it.