Watching the Chrysalis Crack

A few times a year I team up with my friend Larry Robinson of Coastal Wings Outfitters to host what I call “culinary hunts,” long weekends where folks come to Larry’s Oklahoma lodge from all directions, hunt, learn new skills in the field and in the kitchen, then eat lots of great food.

I’ve been doing this nine years, and each trip is different, ranging from the time we had too many ducks to pluck, to the time we shot exactly zero hogs in three days, to the time a tropical storm hit landfall just five miles from our camp; that hunt was for teal and alligators in coastal Texas.

One thing never changes, and that is the presence of people new to hunting. It’s a primary reason we do these hunts, to give newbies the support and instruction they need be successful. And with very few exceptions, they are successful.

Watching that transformation, from nervous, quiet, even fearful, to joyous, garrulous and giddy, never gets old. It’s like watching a caterpillar become a butterfly.

My all-time favorite instance of this came years ago, when we worked out of an East Texas lodge near Bay City. It was a deer hunt, and one client, a man named Eric, signed up nervously. He’d never hunted before, but wanted to get started. He’d never even shot a gun before.

I told Eric he could come if he and I stayed in touch in the months preceding the hunt, so I could walk him through what he needed. I helped point him toward a hunter education course, gave him tips on a rifle (short version: you want to feel it in your hands, like a knife or tennis racket or baseball bat, before you buy.), helped him find a shooting range, buy gear, the works.

Our emails, maybe once or twice a month, helped both of us. I answered his many questions, and I learned what questions newbies are likely to have.

When the hunt arrived, Eric was as ready as he’d ever be. It was great to meet in person, finally. He is a software engineer, and at the time he was living in a shoebox apartment in San Francisco.

I rarely hunt with the clients, as I am normally getting the night’s dinner ready, or prepping the previous days’ animals so the clients can take them home. So I wished everyone well and went to work that morning.

A few hours later, hunters began trickling in. No luck. Really?! What the hell, there were tons of deer around the day before. Classic. I used to have a shirt from a charter boat I worked on that said, “You Shoulda Been Here Yesterday.” As more and more hunters came in empty-handed, I figured, oh well — and started scrambling to plan what I could demo for them that day, since I had been planning to butcher someone’s deer.

Finally, Eric came in. I knew instantly. He was smiling so hard I thought his head would split in half. He’d seen a doe, it stood broadside long enough for him to take careful aim, he shot, and she died in moments. Perfect. After so many months of practice, he’d finally achieved what he’d set out to do. I was overjoyed, and, well, since he had the only deer that morning, I broke his doe down completely to show everyone how to do it. Double bonus for Eric!

Since that hunt, I’ve kept in touch with Eric, who is a full fledged hunter now, a butterfly with a rifle.

Flash forward to a couple weeks ago, at our last culinary hunt. We had newbies as usual, but one was different. For the first time, I brought with me not one sous chef, but two. I reckoned that with Hunter Angler Gardener Cook doing pretty well, I could afford it, and it would take some pressure off me in the kitchen.

My friend Josh Valentine, who’s been to many of these culinary hunts, was one. The other was a chef I’d met in Kansas City named Rachel Rinas. She was in between cooking gigs, interested in the outdoors, and willing to drive from KC to Oklahoma. Yer hired.

As we texted before the hunt, Rachel was certain enough about hunting to get her hunter education certificate and her license, but she didn’t own a rifle and had never really hunted. But she was like Eric in that she asked many of the right questions, and, because of Eric, I knew which questions she hadn’t thought to ask.

Her first day, with Larry, broke the ice. She could have killed several deer, but just wasn’t ready. She needed to see things before pulling the trigger, which is normal and wise. I always recommend that would-be hunters go with a hunter to see what this thing that we do is all about, before investing in guns and gear.

The second day she was with me in the blind — that there were three of us cooks had finally allowed me to hunt a bit more, to the point where I had shot the biggest buck of my life the previous day.

It was cold, somewhere below 19F. Even with two of us in the blind we were still shivering. When the sun rose, we each looked for deer in different directions. Alas, a main pathway for the deer was due east, into the rising sun.

After a while, nothing was coming close. Bummer. I told Rachel to get ready because I was going to eat an energy bar, thereby making crunching noises. Surefire way to bring in deer, I joked. I was about done eating when I tapped her on the shoulder: Two young bucks had walked up to eat not five yards from the blind.

This was a doe hunt, however, and while our licenses legally allow us to take one buck, I needed permission from Larry before I could give Rachel the go-ahead. I texted. Nada. Texted again. Nada. Finally, Larry gave us the OK, but the deer had wandered off just far enough where Rachel wasn’t comfortable with the shot.

So no deer. But this time she was ready, willing and able.

Turns out we were the only ones to not kill a deer that day, leaving Rachel as the last person in camp who needed to punch a tag. I had lots of butchery to do that final morning, so Rachel hunted with Jason, one of Larry’s guides.

As the morning wore on, All The Thoughts started creeping into my head: Had they seen no deer? Impossible. Maybe she just hasn’t gotten a comfortable shot. Maybe she missed? And the darkest one: Maybe she hit a deer, wounded it, and they were looking for it.

Finally, Larry got a text from Jason: Rachel had shot her doe, cleanly. Everyone in camp cheered, and when they finally got back to the lodge, Rachel was a full blown butterfly: She couldn’t stop talking about the hunt, down to the finest detail. She stood taller, breathed easier, just seemed… happier.

Just like Eric had been, years ago. Just like so many of the newcomers to our schools.

Anyone who has started hunting as an adult can remember this feeling. Interestingly, I didn’t get it from the first rabbits and squirrels I had shot, but it hit me like a thunderbolt when I killed my first deer.

You can’t chase that dragon. Your first is your first, and that’s that. But what you can do is revel in the reflected light of the joy emanating from those you help succeed. It is, as Holly has written, a drug. A drug worth getting addicted to.