It has been several months since the previous newsletter went out. There have been several changes in the PSA lately, including some turnover in the executive. Those of you who attended the annual general meeting this past spring will recall that Jim Kosarczuk remained as club president, Ray Pike and Darren Schlamp volunteered to share the vice-presidency, Judy Steeves continues as secretary, and Debra Schramm remained as treasurer. We have since had two resignations: effective September Jim can no longer afford the time to be club president, especially with his increasing family commitments, and Debbie is unable to be treasurer past December, 1999. The club is in need of people who can take up these positions. It is no longer enough to elect an executive who feel obligated to continue because no other members are willing to invest their time and energy in supporting conservation in this area.
As always, obtaining candidates is difficult. However, it is your club - and without the support, input and time of the entire membership, the club would cease to exist. So, please consider donating your time to maintain and improve the PSA, and work to ensure that future generations of sportsmen have access to the same opportunities which you presently enjoy.
The Forestry Ministry will be charging a fine to people who camp without permits in forestry sites this year. In addition, there will be no BCWF fundraiser in Penticton in March as there are not enough volunteers to set it up.
In a related note, we are considering applying to the Habitat Conservation Trust Fund for a wildlife enhancement project in the summer of 2001. If you have any ideas on which areas/types of projects would be most beneficial, please bring them forward as soon as possible, and assist in the planning.
The membership renewal costs are as follows:
Family Membership
$30
Individual Membership
$25
Remember, your BCWF membership takes effect January 1, so you will miss out on your Outdoor Edge magazine unless you renew soon. For those of you with friends or family members who will be taking either CORE or the federal gun handling course, inform them that club membership entitles them to discounts on training offered by the PSA.
The draw will be held at the Game Banquet, on February 19, 2000 at 8:00pm. The proceeds from the raffle go towards wildlife enhancement, so let's get out there and sell some tickets. It is a great prize mix this year, and will appeal to almost everyone. Last year's prize winner were reported to have had a great time during their stay at Douglas Lake. Game banquet tickets should be available by the January meeting (monthly meetings are the third Wednesday of each month).
Call Al Springer at 767-2287 or Ray Pike at 768-2861 to get books of tickets to sell.
Dad and my Mom's dad, Grandpa Herman were in the kitchen sipping hot coffee, talking hunting as they often did. Much to my mothers disapproval, Grandpa had arrived at our house shortly before she was about to start preparing supper, bringing with him a couple of dozen glazed and jelly donuts, much to the delight of my brother and myself.
For as long as I could remember, Grandpa Herman had always hunted. I remember I would eagerly await his return from the many hunting adventures he and my Dad would take every fall. I remember the huge deer they harvested hanging in the garage, and how I would pump every detail, every step, and every bit of information from them: where they went, how long it took to get there, what they saw on the way, what the terrain looked like, everything, just everything.
Grandpa Herman worked most of his life in logging camps as a heavy-duty mechanic. Grandpa had the gift of the gab as my Mom called it. So when it came time to unravel a story and bring it to life, Grandpa put every bit of his God-given talents to work and brought his hunting adventure stories to life for my brother and I.
Grandpa had just finished telling last years adventure story for umpteenth time at my urging, when I decided the time was just about right to go into my pleading and begging routine, asking if I could come along with Dad and him on this years moose hunt. I was expecting to again hear that I was still too young, I was in school and could not miss any, or it was no place to bring a young boy. The latter two excuses usually coming from my Mom. This time Grandpa's reply was different. "It's about time. What do you think Nick?" he asked my Dad. "Please, please", I begged my Dad. " It's fine by me, but we're going to have to clear it with your Mother". My heart sank, as I knew there would be no way Mom would approve, of my being able to go, ever. That's when I turned to ol' gift of the gab, and pleaded with Grandpa to plead my case to Mom. I knew if anyone could convince Mom to have a change of heart it would be her own father. Little did I know that both Grandpa and Dad had already smoothed the way for me to go.
I truly believe that my Dad thought I had a memory retention problem. I think I asked him every day for the next month how long it would be before we were leaving. Somehow the answer of "soon" did not register.
Finally it was a Thursday night the last week of October, and the night before we would be leaving on my long awaited first hunting trip. I could hardly sleep that night, nor did I want to go to school in the morning, but Mom made me go. I spent most of the time in school daydreaming, mostly from anticipation, and partly from lack of sleep. At three o-clock the bell rang. Yes, my first hunting adventure was about to begin. I ran home as fast as I could. I could not believe what was going on when I came in through the back door. Nothing, absolutely nothing. I expected to find a mad rush of activity. Instead I found my Dad casually putting a few pairs of socks in a duffel bag, and Mom was getting supper ready. What I didn't know was that while I was in bed the night before, Dad and Grandpa had packed all the food, and gear away in the tarped trailer parked in the driveway.
Around six o-clock I heard the familiar sound of Grandpa's Land Rover coming down the street. He backed it into the driveway and Dad and him dropped the tongue of the trailer on the ball, made some connections, checked lights and whatever else needed checking. Then they both went into the house where they received some last minute rules, regulations, and instructions as to my well being and safety from my Mother. Boy, like us men couldn't take care of ourselves!
We left the house around 7 o-clock that evening, headed east on highway one to Hope, then north to our final destination, Horsefly Lake. As I said this was 1962, and some three hours later we were in Hope, and Dad, Grandpa, and myself were making our way into a small café for pie, coffee, and hot chocolate for myself. Soon after we were again on our way and much to my disappointment the next thing I knew it was daylight and I had missed most of the drive to our destination. Much to my delight the first thing I saw was the white blanket of snow covering the ground. The thought of Yippee, fun and snowball fights soon left my head as I knew I was here to hunt with my to favorite people in the whole world, and that snow meant easier tracking of game movement as my Grandpa had told me many times over.
Somewhere around 9:30 in the morning after many zigs and zags on a logging road we turned down a really bumpy road and arrived at our destination. A small but inviting cabin lay before me. It was exactly like Grandpa had described in his many stories. Attached to the door was a note from the owner of the cabin, a long time friend of my Grandfather's. The note briefly explained where the chopped wood could be found, as well as other instructions, including where to leave the key when we left. It was cold as all get out in that cabin right then, but in no time Gramps and Dad had a fire in the wood stove and one in the fireplace going. It was soon very warm and comfortable. I helped Dad unpack the trailer while Gramps cooked breakfast.
Right after breakfast both Dad and Gramps said it was time to go for a drive and scout out some of the old haunts. We had only driven about fifteen minutes from the cabin when the Land Rover jerked abruptly to a stop. There on the road were two large black figures. At first I thought they were horses! Dad loudly said "moose". As this was the first time I had ever seen a moose, I took Dad's word for it. They turned out to be a cow and calf moose. I asked both Dad and Gramps: "Aren't you going to shoot them?" This soon became my first lesson in animal identification. The rest of the day we saw several does, a porcupine, coyote and countless numbers of grouse, the latter of which I was given several opportunities to harvest with Dad's 410. I finally managed to bag one! It was a good thing that Dad and Gramps could shoot better than me, cause if we had to depend on these to eat we would have been pretty hungry! As Dad and Gramps had never brought home any grouse from their hunting trips, that night would be the first time I'd ever eaten grouse, let alone something I had shot.
Over the next four days we saw several more cow and calf moose, several deer, and more grouse than you could shake a stick at. The only Bull Moose seen on this trip was when Gramps and myself dropped off Dad to hunt an area and we continued on down the road in the Land Rover. The bull was in the trees across the swamp. I thought wow I'm going to be there when my Gramps shoots a bull. We got out of the Land Rover and walked down an embankment. Gramps looked at the moose through his binoculars then brought up his hands up to his mouth and made the funniest grunting noise I had ever heard. I thought I would wet my pants I was laughing so hard, but promptly became very quiet when I saw the cross look on Gramps face. Finally the moose moved out of the trees into a clearing. Gramps brought up his rifle; I plugged my ears and waited for the boom I knew was soon to come. It never came. Gramps lowered his rifle. I asked him "Aren't you going to shoot him?" He said, "You know Jimmy he's probably as old as I am. Besides he needs to be out here doing what he does best anyway." You know I didn't understand why back then I just accepted my Gramps's wisdom and his reasons.
We came home the following Friday. At first I was a little disappointed we did not come home with a moose, as I listened to my younger brother tell me all about the fun he'd had on the Halloween I'd missed.
The next year saw our family pack and move from Vancouver B.C. to San Francisco as that is where my Dad's job took him. I never again had the opportunity to hunt with my Grandpa, but I remember that first hunt better than all the Halloweens I ever had. I found out just before my Grandpa passed away that he had actually pleaded my case for years with my Mom and Dad about joining them on a hunting trip. In his wisdom he recognized something in me that he needed to pass along. He also knew I would also pass it along to someone I loved as well. For this Grandpa, I will be eternally grateful and promise to pass on your love of the outdoors and your passion for hunting. Hopefully I have gained some of the wisdom you passed down to me, that I may pass it along also.
Last hunting season I had two of my grandsons along with me on a day trip in behind Big White. On this day the boys, Calvin then 7 years old, and Harley, then 3 years old, saw a grizzly bear for the first time. The look of astonishment on Harley's face took me back to that first Bull Moose, I saw with my Grandfather. This next year Calvin will be 8 years old and I think its about time I allowed him to join me on moose hunt. The same as my Grandpa thought it was about time I joined him and my Dad on that trip so many years ago.
I'm 46 years young, and remember that first trip like it was yesterday. That trip had a profound effect on me and will continue to do so until the day meet my maker. As much as I believe hunting and fishing is a part of my heritage and yours as well there are those out there that are doing everything they can to take this away from you and I. Do yourselves and a young person a favor, pass it along. Take someone hunting, fishing; leave them with a life long memory to pass along. The young people are our future and are never too young to learn what we can teach them. Remember this too! Hunting and Fishing are the only true sports; everything else is just a game.
Have a great Christmas and Joyous New Year,
Yours in Conservation, Jim Kosarczuk and Family