I have always been a hunter, which sounds strange, maybe, coming from a woman, but I have. I was born and raised on a ranch, the oldest of two daughters. Like most ranchers, my father probably wanted a boy, but since I had no brothers, I was chosen to fill the role of the son he didn’t have. From early on I learned to shoot, ride, and hunt. One of my greatest joys in my younger days was hunting season, when the out-of-state hunters, many who became family friends over the years, came to hunt. In those early years, when I was in grade school, we didn’t have four wheelers or even 4x4 pickups. The men would drive the hunters out into the back pastures, glass for deer, and when they downed a big buck in rough country, they would gut it out and then return to the ranch for the horses to pack the game out. Being horse crazy, it was my greatest pleasure to ride out with the men and let them use my horse to pack out the deer. I was small and would often ride back on top of the deer, which was slung across the saddle and tied down to the stirrups. To me, that is the real hunting experience.

As I grew, I continued to hunt. I guided hunters for my dad, and when I married, I married a man who was a taxidermist and a hunter himself. We guided hunters in the fall and I continued to hunt with him.

Hunting has given me some fine memories, such as the Red Desert of Wyoming, where we hunted for trophy antelope. I remember vividly the sage studded, flat land, and stalking antelope in country that appears to be as flat as a tabletop. I remember how the wind blew at sunset, and how the canvas wall tent snapped and cracked under the wind. I remember watching the wild horses gallop across the plains and the herds of antelope running across the vastness of the desert.

Elk hunting in Jackson Hole, riding on the elk refuge in the cold winter dawn, watching the sky lighten and hoping the sun will hurry up to take the chill off the morning are some other great memories as well as seeing the elk lying on the refuge, their breath wafting upward in misty clouds as they chew their cuds, watching the sunset over the towering Teton Peaks, and watching the sunlight stream down the slopes in the early morning.

I remember British Columbia, where Richard, my husband, hunted moose and caribou and my mother and I went along as non-hunters. We got to see the Peace River, ride in a bush plane, and see some fantastic mountain scenery. We rode through the pine forests, walked in the muskeg, and fished for grayling in the rivers. It was a grand time.

I can still see England, where we hunted roe and muntjac with friends that exchange hunts with us. I can see the English dawn, misty, damp but filled with bird songs. ‘The Dawn Chorus’ Ken called it. It was beautiful; seeing the tall, stately oak trees that are hundreds of years old, walking on acres of blue bells, that make it look as though the world was upside down and you are walking in a blue sky.

The roe deer is one of two native English deer, the other being the red deer, or red stag. The roe deer are small, with antlers that have only one fork. We hunted them mainly out of a high seat, which was similar to a tree stand. I had the privilege to take what Ken considered a cull-buck roe deer that had a lot of pearling that is, tiny points off the main beam. It went on to take second place in the world that year in the Safari Club records. I was awarded a trophy that was nearly as tall as the deer.

The muntjac, tiny, prehistoric looking deer with short, spike-like horns and small fangs, are also called ‘barking deer’ because their alarm call is similar to a fox bark. They are about the size of a Golden Retriever, and have habits similar to a whitetail deer. Not English natives; they were imported by the Duke of Bedford in the early 1800s. At first he imported the Indian strain, but they were too aggressive, and attacked small dogs. He then imported the Chinese strain, and today there is a large population of the little critters. They breed all year around, and in some areas they are considered a nuisance, as they destroy crops. They live in dense brush, of which there is much of in England, and are quick and flighty. They make hard targets, but I took a couple and then let it go, deciding that Muntjac hunting was not my cup of tea.

I did enjoy sight seeing, and one place we went was to a wild animal park. There I saw my first and only Peer David Deer, which are strange looking animals, with backwards horns. They are rare and very expensive to hunt.

Hunting has also opened other doors. For several years I wrote hunting and knife articles for many magazines, including Sports Afield and Peterson’s Hunting. Due to the fact that my husband was a bow hunter, I did some bowhunting and wrote for Bowhunter magazine. That, in turn, caught the attention of Ann Clark, who is a ‘hall of fame’ bowhunter and who is the founder of the Lady Diana’s, an all woman bowhunting group. They invited me on a hunt that was set up near Midwest, Wyoming, for antelope. Although I had strained my shoulder and couldn’t bow hunt, I went along and had the pleasure of guiding Ann Hoyt, of the Hoyt-Easton Bow Company to a Pope and Young antelope buck. We camped out in tents and had a good time with all women hunters. It was an experience I won’t soon forget.

Hunting on the family ranch has always been fun, and taking my kids hunting and teaching them good hunting ethics helps to bond with them. One season my son, who is an avid rifle and bow hunter, wanted to take an antelope. We got up early, went out in the pickup, found a nice buck antelope in our back pasture, and had him down, dressed out and hung up in the garage and he only missed one class at school. That was pretty fast hunting.

My daughter, although not as dedicate as my son, has also taken and antelope that she was very proud of.

All in all, hunting is a great family sport, and one that I am proud to have been involved with over the years. Although I am divorced now from my first husband, and even before that my hunting dropped off due to time pressure and raising kids, I still feel privileged to have been a hunter.

My last antelope hunt was in 2004, when a friend and I went to my ranch to take an antelope so that he could cast the head, neck and shoulders for a form for his taxidermy business. I guided, and he shot the antelope. It was a fun hunt and a wonderful fall day to be outside, stalking game in the back hills.

I feel that more women should become involved in the sport of hunting. It is wholesome, and what better way to commune with nature, and teach our children that the cycle of life includes death. Hunting gives us a chance to not only see the natural rhythms of life, but gives us a chance to become one with nature. All of nature is predator and prey, and we are, by large, predators. Primitive man understood this cycle, and was at ease with their basic predator nature. He understood that some animals died to allow others to live, and that he was a part of the balance of nature and the cycles of life.

By hunting, we as humans can develop a better understanding of the great cycle of life, and we can feel we are more a part of nature.

I think, too, that women can add a new dimension to hunting. We add our empathy for the animals we hunt, and our deep appreciation of life in all forms. In many ways, I, myself, think of hunting more like a Native American, where I realize that, as a predator, I hunt to live, but I also understand the animals I hunt, and I respect them. I honor them enough to make a clean kill and only take what the law allows. Like Native humans who only took what they needed to survive, I take what is needed to help balance the herds and maintain healthy numbers of animals for the food supply.

Even though I am now divorced, I continue to hunt and run the outfitting business with my daughter. By hunting, and obeying the game limit laws, I help to maintain the balance of nature, much as natural predators do. Without some balance, the herds of deer would overrun the food supply, leading to massive die-outs due to disease and/or starvation. I understand this. For the good of the entire species, some live and some die. Unfortunately, it is nature’s way. Sometimes cruel and harsh, but the way nature intended. I, by being a hunter, am a part of nature’s cycle. I help to maintain the balance.