First Days of Hunting are Ones Not to Forget

saturday the 23rd was the opener of the gun hunting season here in montana. myself, a friend and his father, and two other friends found ourselves on top of a small peak the night before pitching tents in the dark to be ready for first light. the wind was strong but died down and it wasn't as cold as it had been some previous evenings. first light came and the morning hunt, though uneventful, was still fun with some great scenery.
the afternoon hunt however was a bit more eventful. after hiking through thick moose infested forest (there was seriously moose sign everywhere) a friend and i took a rest at a clearing and decided to split up and both aim for a road below us that would lead us to my car. shortly after starting again he kicked up some mule deer that ran in front of me. when i finally saw them i was surprised to see two bucks lined up behind each other. i could have gotten both with one shot, but since i had already shot a deer i couldn't shoot one of these. it was still neat to see.
i spent the next few hours working my way down to the road (again through moose infested forest) and saw three white-tails including a small buck. it was a fun afternoon seeing my first muley bucks during hunting season, and we saw some good elk sign. so ends day one.

the second day for me was actually two days later, on monday. first light found me and a friend perched above a couple clear cuts in a cold wind seeing absolutely nothing. after an hour we started hiking around. though we did see some deer , we saw no elk, and nothing my friend could shoot.
in the afternoon i went with his father and he went on his own and this is where things get crazy. myself and the guy i was with were going to go to the base of a mountain and follow it and the subsequent ridges to a road and trailhead where his son was going to park his truck. his son was going to drop the truck off and hike down to the road he drove in on, then wait for us to pick him up in his truck.
our hike started out ok. we were in light snow but not seeing anything for sign. we did see a few mule deer running through a clearing in front of us at one point but even that wasn't much. the traveling had been slow so we thought we would try to cut some distance off by making a straight shot for a clear cut on a ridge about a mile and a half in front of us.
we started down the ridge we were on and in an hour finally hit the bottom. we were out of the snow but it was wet and our feet were soaked. we had to pick and fight our way through the alder brush that seemed to be always in front of us and much of our traveling was on moose trails through the brush.
we started back up and shortly encountered a road that we started following uphill to make traveling easier. we checked the map and located where we were, made a plan to continue up the road and then cut in and parallel the ridge line of the mountains.
as we went up we started to get into snow again, but still didn't see much of anything for tracks. we turned off the road and were going through about 2 to 3 inches of snow along a game trail and after a few minutes came across some tracks of a big deer. my friend took the lead in case we'd jump it and continued on. all this while we still have in the back of our minds that we've been traveling slower than we'd hoped and we had about 2 1/2 hours of light left. plenty of time to reach the road.
the tracks left the trail but we wanted to follow the trail so we kept going. a little while later we came across some more tracks that looked like bull elk. i'm thinking awesome. we can find this guy, get him down, then find out where we are so we can get him out. we leave the trail and follow this very meandering set of tracks about 30 yards in. i stop and look around quick and about 15 feet from me i see antler laying on the ground partly covered by snow. i could see it was a moose paddle and i'm exciting thinking i just found a giant moose shed. i went around the tree to go get it and that's when i see that it is not a moose shed. it's the whole head with both antlers of a dead bull moose! it was completely clean with just the bone left and we saw a few other bones and figured it was an old bull that had died and we stumbled across the final resting place. "i'm taking this with me," i said and the other guy was like, "yeah," in a "duh" kinda way. i strapped the head to my pack and we rethought our plan.
our thoughts were that animals would be farther up and bedded down in this weather so if we would continue up we would either run into animals, or eventually go over the saddle in the ridge line and drop down to a trail that would take us easily and quickly to the vehicle.
the next part of the hike was all climbing. a few steps after starting we saw fresh moose tracks and then found moose rubs on trees 8 to 10 inches in diameter. but we still went uphill, and it was hard, and the nagging thought of loosing daylight came back.
my extra burden became top heavy and got caught on trees and was too wide to get through some places. after a stop and planning i readjusting the antlers and found that to help a lot. but the planning made me nervous. the snow and fog made it impossible to see the landmarks we wanted to see, and we weren't quite sure where we were in relation to things. our options were starting to get thinner and getting out was all on my mind. i even planned on passing up an elk if the opportunity arose. either we cut left and follow along the ridge to the road, then go up the road to the trail head, or go up and over to the trail and follow the trail. going left meant climbing over dead fall, going up meant more climbing. the other guy wanted to go up, and i went back and forth in my mind and said, "ok, lets go up."
the climb became more difficult as our bodies become more fatigued. the now 4 inches of snow on top of 3 inches of grass made climbing difficult, and we couldn't see the slippery branches and rocks that we seemed to constantly step on. our pants were soaked through to our thighs, and our feet were completely went. hands and the ends of sleeves were wet as well, though as long as we didn't stop moving, we stayed warm and comfortable, well comfortable all things considered.
i was pulling my burdensome prize through tight brush and my friend would come up behind me and push when it got harder. the climb proved to be longer than either of us thought or hoped but suddenly we hit the top of a ridge. he said it was the ridge we wanted, though i didn't know if i believed him. but, down and left we went, aiming for a trail we couldn't see, and breaks in the clouds and snow revealed a lot of country a long way down.
at this point mild panic, and possibly mild hypothermia, were beginning to take hold. i started going through my inventory to see what i would have should we have to spend a night in the woods. we were loosing light very quickly and had perhaps another 30 minutes left before we would have to get headlamps out. "this is ridiculous," i told myself as i lunged into more short tight trees.
we came to a rocky face that we began to work down, and my friend got his foot stuck and as he worked it out his legs began to cramp up. he's older than i and has a bad knee and back and i didn't want to have to pack him out as well. we got our way down and were actually separated at the bottom for a few moments, but when i called out and heard him i quickly got back and we continued down. i had seen a few open spots each time hoping it was the trail, and each time being disappointed. my friend did recognize the rocky face and knew we were close and on the right track, though he never told me, and i'm thinking about what i can find that would be dry to start a fire.
i saw another opening and went for it and as i got closer, though i didn't want to be disappointed, got more excited and as i stepped into it i found i was on the trail. i called to my friend and he came down, and all my nervousness was gone. we were on a landmark, a solid "i know where i am" landmark, and all we had to do was follow it out.
the light kept fading but travel time kept getting better. my friend estimated about 1/4 mile till we'd be out. 4 inches of snow blanketed our path and in several spots revealed the travelings of moose that had been there before us, and we kept on. moose were not on my list of worries, it was just, "get out."
we hit the road and got to the truck with about the last rays of any light and soon we had the truck loaded and going and headed down to pick up my other friend. we had tried radioing him from the trail but never got a response. there was no response when were at the truck and as we traveled and slid down the slippery mountain road we still couldn't get a response.
turning on to the next road brought more empty radio calls and we kept looking for tracks that weren't there. we began making plans for what we would do if we didn't find him.
his truck didn't have a working defrost so we had to have an open window and rub the windshield with a rag, and soon my hands were going cold on the steering wheel, both from the temperature and nervousness. finally, i see tracks on the road and some of the nervousness was gone. we still couldn't hear him on the radio.
after a few more minutes we heard a call come in, but nothing but static after that. shortly after we could hear him, and contact was established.
he had hit the road long before we hit our trail and started hiking down, and though his story is as crazy as mine, to add it would double this entry, so i will leave it out. i will make an extremely brief summary at the end. we caught up to him a few miles farther down and i think all of us were very happy to see each other again.
i told him to look in the back of the truck and he thought the moose antlers were pretty neat. i asked him if he saw anything and he smiled, chuckled, and said, "i've got a story for ya." i told him to save it till we got going again.
back in the truck, me behind the wheel, we headed down the road to get the other truck then get back to their house for dry clothes, warming up, and a big dinner. he began to tell his story of how he was cutting downhill and heard this crashing below him. just as he was saying that i caught movement of something big to my left and a big cow moose materialized out of the woods and jumped onto the road right in front of us. i almost hit it and afraid of skidding pressed the brakes slowly. the moose ran down the road in front of us for about 1/4 mile before running back into the woods and we just looked in awe and giddiness and could do nothing but smile and laugh.
the rest of the drive was thankfully very uneventful. we got back to the house right after the wife and mother of my two friends got there. i proudly showed off my find to her and her young daughter as we tried to get our gear situated and us in the house. we dried off, got a fire going, warmed up, got dinner and filled up, then recounted stories.
i taped the moose and the widest section measured 39 inches, and when i weighed it i came up with 20 pounds. though it's not a giant like in alaska, it's apparently a very nice moose for this area. the antlers ended up being used as a drying rack in front of the fire that night and i'm not quite sure what i'm going to do with them, but it definitely was an awesome find.

as for my friends story, the short is that he walked the trail towards us at first, and then cut down following tracks. he heard this crashing and upon closer investigation came across two bull moose about the same size as the one i found, one a little smaller, one a little bigger, at about 30 yards. he got away safely and then fought his way through the nastiest thickest brush he has ever encountered. he fell into a creek when the log he was walking on crumbled in a rotten mess beneath him (though it was only a partial leg soaking). he stumbled across one road and located himself on the map and thought it would be quicker to go back in and down to the next road than to follow the road. that 1/8 of a mile took him an hour and the brush stole his hat and he never noticed till he got to the road. soaked, cold, and exhausted he forced himself down the road till we caught up to him about 4 miles later.

being molded

so i can't believe it's been so long since i last posted, and it's been much longer than it should have been to get this one done, but here it comes. this is a new look at a common topic.

several weeks ago at church we had a visitor come preach, and i can't really remember that much about him, other than his name was rick lairisey though i'm sure i spelled that wrong. but as he was talking he said the term "vessels" and being somewhat mind wandering at that time, my mind wandered to the band "jars of clay" and immediately my mind went to the stories in the Bible about jeremiah and the broken pot and the referance in isaiah to people as clay and God as the potter. and then it hit me. how many people really know what it means to be clay? to be turned into beautiful pottery? and i saw an oppurtunity. during this time i was teaching the ceramics class where i work, and i realized i had a first hand chance to view and experience the process, the successes, failures, and outcomes of watching the clay being worked, and a new way of thinking of what or who i really am.

to begin with, the potter must choose the clay. one may think, "well, clay is clay, is there really a difference?" and yes there is. clays have different compositions, colors, textures, plasticities, firing temperatures and more. a master potter will know what clay will work best for the project they intend to make, and good potters will be familiar with a clay they like to use. the potter then kneads the clay before the sculpting. the clay needs to be removed of the "deadly" air bubbles that expand and explode when being fired, and kneading does that as well as align the clay particles for easier molding and use.
i guess this part, would i be the clay, is when i decided to let God take hold of my life to mold me. He would begin by working out the most detrimental problems before the forming of a masterpiece.

at this point, the potter would start the sculpting. i think most people associate pottery with the "wheel technique" and though there are several other techniques, the wheel is definately my favorite, and i think requires the most skill. the other techniques definately require skill, but you can almost always add more clay, and you can work slowly if you need to, make simple and careful changes to your artwork. however, with the wheel, once you start you can only take away clay, and any change by the clay or the potter instantly affects the whole piece. but the master (Master) potter knows this, and with expert skills first centers the clay on the wheel (which is no easy task for beginners and even some intermediate potters) and then begins the shaping. the potter doesn't need to take measurements for he/she/He knows where the limits are. they can be felt, knowing the limitations of the clay, and the potter knows how for to work the clay.
watching a master potter on the wheel can be mesmerizing. simply seeing the chunk of clay being moved, pushed, pressed, and molded first into a generic cup-look, into a bowl or pitcher, sometimes a plate or cup, but whatever it is, the potters hands know just what to do, slowing working the clay upwards to make the piece larger, adding just the right amount of water to prevent cracking or sliming. removing the extra clay so it doesn't tip over. anyone who has done any amount of pottery knows that feeling of the clay sliding past your hands and fingers, pushing just enough to reach that perfect thickness and build the piece out, up, and beautifully. depending on the piece and the potter, this could take a couple minutes to perhaps more than an hour.
i guess with the Potter, this takes the clay's life. or most of it. the clay is being molded as the Potter takes control to shape out the plan He has for it/us/me. this molding time changes us from the lump of clay, full of "deadly" air bubbles into something different, something that can be used and that looks good. sometimes we as clay try to fight back and develop a thin spot or a crack that causes the Potter to have to trim more than He wanted or to start over, but that doesn't mean He gives up. The clay needs to be reset and can be used again, but takes time and patience.

once the potter is done turning, they remove the piece from the wheel, a moment when if not careful, the whole piece could topple and break. then begins the drying, actually, the controled drying. a piece is too soft to add any designs or trim excess clay. but after some drying the work becomes stiff, though still soft enough to cut and trim out thick spots (which dry inefficently, add needless weight, could hide "deadly" air bubbles, have the potential of exploding in the kiln, and just look clumsy.) this could be a time to add handles to mugs or pitchers, or etch in patterns and designs. and any good potter will put their name, initials, or symbal on the work, to show that they made it. when that part is done, the potter sets the project in a safe place to dry for at least a week. at this stage, the piece is called greenware.
i think this is where God takes away the things in our lives that are holding us back from completing his work. those thick spots might signify that we have too much of something, like to much comfort in a spot, and the lack of handles may be our missing of something we need to keep going, and He blesses us with that necessary part that adds to us. we are still by no means done. this is just a completion of shape, not of project. and for all of you who think you are in these stages and it is hard, just wait, what comes next is the worst, and i think scariest of steps.

a kiln is basically a oven, but often larger, funnier shaped, and can reach almost obscene temperatures. "low fire" clays and glazes, which means it gets fired at low temperatures, will need to hit at least 1400 degrees farenheit to change. after the drying period of the greenware, the potter will put their work in the kiln, arranging it to fit as much in as possible, moving the more "dangerous" pieces away from the ones they are not worried about. then slowly, over the span of hours to days, heat it up to that range of 1400 plus. "hi fire" pieces will reach temperatures of over 2000 degrees. but something magical happens. any leftover moisture in the work evaporates and the chemical composition changes. the soft clay becomes harder, stiffer, and eventually will hold liquids rather than being permeable. i once opened our kiln just after it shut off to see what it looked like inside. everything was glowing. the sides of the kiln, the shelves, the pieces, it all glowed that hot ember look. it was being cooked. it was being changed. it would still be a bowl, or a cup, or a plate in outward appearance. but internally, it would be strong, like a stone, and the works are actually called stoneware. this is the scary time, because after this there is no turning back, and sometimes things explode. there might be a missed air bubble, or a thick spot, or just too much moisture in a spot. when something explodes in this state it can easily damage or destroy the works next to it.
i guess this section has a lot to be taken out of it, but i'll keep it short and not overly preachy. here is where God tests us "in the fire." "refined by the fire" is a common phrase used to describe the trials and tribulations that we go through to become stronger more mature Christians. these are not fun trials. i'm sure the clay doesn't understand why it needs to go through scortching temperatures, but the potter does. if it doesn't, it can be strong, it will be soft and easily broken, fragile, and can be watered down and turn to mush. but once fired, the works come out stronger than when they started. the same with us. i would say that the ones that explode are the ones that give up when the test starts. they break, and all that's left for them is the trash. it's sad when it's just a bowl or cup, but i can't imagine the pain God endures when one of His works "blows up."

then comes anticipation. the glazing. the glazes are a chalky liquid that occasionally resemble what they might look like when they come out of the kiln. but that is part of the anticipation. the potter puts on the glaze, sometimes mixing them, or sprinkling on other colors for different affects. even some of the glazes have "personalities," some stay where they are applied, others slide and move, and get different colors. the glazed stoneware goes back into the kiln where several factors will contribute to the outcome. the heat in the kiln, the arrangement of the different colors on the works, and the amount of carbon in the kiln are some of the things that will determine the color and texture of the glazes on the works. at this point, a potter can take all the precautions they want to get the color and effect they want, but even part of it is left to chance. but the kiln gets heated up again, another blast of firey fury, but the end result is more spectacular than before. the first time the works were made strong, but now they are made beautiful, and ready for use. the glazes have shown their personality and are unique, not easily replicated.
i don't think God would leave our beautifying entirely to chance, at least not knowing the potential outcome. i do believe God leaves us room to try things, make mistakes, and make masterpieces. it's called free will. but i also believe this Potter is trying to give us the best odds of reaching the potential He has set for us. He tests and prepares us through molding and fires to shape us and make us strong vessels for work. He then adds gifts to us, the interesting assortment of colors and textures, that give us our unique abilities and personalities to be the best we can be. we are then ready for use.

now i know that pottery can still fall and break, it can chip and crack, and we as humans and Christians can make mistakes, get comfortable, chip, crack, and break. a broken plate however usually only has one fate after that, and that would be the trash, it cannot be fixed and regain it's usefulness. we however can be fixed and used again. and as for this piece of clay, i'm glad for that. i'm sure that the fires are going to hurt and be hard, and in this life there will be several. but when i finally reach that point where, as a beautifully glazed piece, has been retired (maybe that is when one breaks? has reached the completion of God's work on this earth?) and go to heavy, i will be able to look to God, and see the reflection of His love for me and i'll be able to see the masterpiece, and the master plan that God had made me for.