Don’t let any of the following lead you to assume I’m a strong outdoorsman. I know how to do “all the things” but that doesn’t mean I do “all the things” on a regular basis.

I’ve been hunting (and have snagged a few storied deer and a big ol’ hog along the way), but I didn’t grow up hunting. I joke that when you have a dad with early onset adult ADHD, there wasn’t a lot of room for sitting in a deer stand.

(I believe I was maybe 23 or 24 in this picture.)

But when you end up dating a taxidermist’s daughter at 20-years-old, you easily turn into “a project” for your future father-in-law. My soon-to-be-wife eagerly handed me over to get all the hunting experience I could stand, and boy did I get a lot.

I didn’t have a choice, to be honest. The first time I went hunting, she dropped a deer at 100-yards right in its tracks. I let out a quick (but silent) sigh, and I knew I had level up quickly.

I have hit a deer from over 200-yards with a rifle that cost more than a European vacation. (The rifle wasn’t mine. Just want to make that clear.)

The story that accompanies this venture has me lining up my shot, breathing out, taking my time, squeezing the trigger then…click. The chamber was empty. Oh, what joy that was (I hope you read the sarcasm in those letters).

I did, however, proceed to insert the bullet in the chamber, bolt it in place, and drop a fallow deer at close to 215 yards away. If we’re creating a new feeling for this one, I’d call it the most embarrassing pride I’d experienced up to that point. I’ve beaten that embarrassing pride level since. Many times.

I’m not the best fisherman either. I love fishing, but I like to call what I do more along the lines of “casting” and not so much of the “catching.”

(Photo by my wife, 2018. Man, my beard was so dark. Working on looking like Santa these days.)

Most of my angling memories circle around me either not catching a fish, children catching more fish than me, me catching the (significantly) smallest fish of the bunch (including the children) or one very memorable time when a shark took all but the head of the trophy fish I battled with off the Mississippi coast.

(Photo by Josh Mardis. That’s his dad in the background, Hal. One of the best guys around. Sure do miss him.)

I’ve been bird hunting once. It was a Christmas gift from my father-in-law. I believe the gesture came from the part of him that wanted us all to have a great time accompanied by the other part of him that wanted to let his sons-in-law know he’s better at this than we’ll ever be. A sort of “know your place, boy” kind of thing. Seems to be a trend when it comes to my father-in-law.

All of that to say, I’m by no means an outdoorsman, but there are so many elements of the outdoors sport that intrigue me.

A Vizsla and a Guide (and a cousin)

Recently, I was asked to accompany my cousin and his wife on a quail hunt in Madison County and take a few pictures. Where those I was with had a history of hunting (and a talent for it), I knew that I brought a similar skill with the camera.

Katie, my cousin’s wife, is a guide on this property, and from what I was told, she was one of the best. From what I saw, those assertions carry weight.

Their dog, Ruth, was simply amazing to watch. She’s a Vizsla, a breed that originated from Hungary. Ironic since Hungary is also known for producing quality shotguns, the same sort of shotguns used in quail hunts.

Ruth ran a total of 12 miles in about 3.5 hours, going through fields, tall grass, pine trees and brush. Watching her was like watching a prima ballerina. She was smooth. She graceful. She was laser-focused.

I asked Katie if Ruth’s ability leans more towards training or instinct. She said instinct. It’s just wild how a hunting dog will shine when in their element, and let me tell you, Ruth shined.

Capturing the Natural Beauty

I’ve often quipped that my happy place is in the view finder of my camera. I have a Canon 1DX. You can call it a dinosaur, but that sucker more than gets the job done.

Think of it like those people who are obsessed with Toyota’s 3rd Generation 4Runner. It’s hard to beat and even harder to kill.

When Brennan and Katie asked if I wanted to take pictures, I knew this was an opportunity to push myself while also not letting them down. That combination of expectation is where I tend to find my groove.

I snapped pictures of my cousin in action, Katie guiding, my uncle along for the ride (Just kidding. He shot a few himself), and Ruth doing her thing.

I told my wife that this sort of outing might have even sparked a new creative outlet to chase (like I need more on my plate). Chronicling a hunt or an outing or a fishing trip or anything “outdoors” comes with stories and memories. I can’t imagine anything better.

There’s nothing more beautiful than God’s creation, and I’ve long been a fan of nature, hunting, fishing and outdoors photography. Getting that opportunity might be a one-and-done thing, or it may lead to more.

Either way, I’m thankful for another memory to add to the collection.