On Learning to Shoot Things: How I taught myself to shoot a Pheasant

The first time I ever hit anything, I hit a clay target at Pheasant Valley Farm.  For whatever reason, they let me use one of their fancy guns and I hit a clay target!  One.  I remember feeling very excited to hit something but I had no clue how I hit it.

My goal was to get a pheasant.  One.

Perhaps I was being naive, but the thought of shooting a pheasant seemed very singular to me.  I never really thought about getting multiple birds.  So I hope a lot of folks realize that all of my efforts, in my mind, were to get this one bird.

For the end of the 2017-2018 year I ended up getting a pheasant package from Pheasant Valley Farm, which I will touch on a bit in here, but I really want to focus on my process of getting a pheasant.

When I had spare time, I spent all of it practicing shooting.
Local to me is a place called the "South End Gun Club" which is probably very similar to any gun-clubs in your own area.  Like, I could walk there close.  The good thing about this is that it was a public gun club so folks like me could go there any practice shooting at clay targets.

Sporting Clay and Skeet are "sports" within their own right and folks really like to competitively shoot at these targets.  Particularly old white men over the age of 65.  I quickly realized there weren't many women that frequent this place.  I went there two times.  Both times I stood at a area far away from everyone and did two rounds of 25 each time.  And I missed each time.
However, each time I had more guys coming up to me and telling me I had the wrong gun, I needed X, Y, or Z, and in general just made me feel very uncomfortable.  I never returned and opted to put my gun away until summer.

I think a common theme for me is whether or not I feel comfortable at a place is if I will return there.  Between attempting to get upsold a gun, and now this, at that point in time I really didn't have much hope for myself in getting a bird.

I let some time pass until mid-summer when I realized "Oh crap, pheasant season is going to start soon".  So I called another place that was open to the public and they were very welcoming.  I went over there for the first time and shot one round of skeet.  It took me about 40 minutes because I took a long time between shots.  I missed everything.

The next time, I brought two boxes of shells with me which was two round of skeet.  I think it still look me a little over an hour.  Nothing.

The third time, when I went into the office to get the call box, they guy & woman working asked me what I was practicing for.  I'm a friendly mid-westerner so exchanging pleasantries was easy up until this point.  And I beamed "I want to shoot a pheasant with my rescue bird dog!"  That day I shot at another 50 targets, and I started hitting them.  That day I think I hit 10 which made me feel amazing.  I still hadn't figured out why/how I hit them, but I felt like I was moving in the right direction.

Still Using that Old, Heavy Winchester
I needed more shells so I went to that first local Sportsman's store and got a case of shells.  I was not going to stop until I figured out how to actually shoot.  Just hitting them was not enough.  Plus, I wanted to increase my "hit" ratio above 20% ha! I quickly looked at their shotguns but didn't want to derail myself to another upselling black-hole.

And so then I went to shooting 100 shells, to my "best day" where I shot off 150 shells and was hitting more than I was missing.  Things were clicking for me in terms of following the target, getting in front, above, etc.  I was actually enjoying doing this.  By this time, most of the folks at this practice place come to know me and they had the call box ready when I pulled up.  It started to feel very familiar to me.  Never once did I feel uncomfortable and their endearing words about how I was doing all of this "for my dog" really touched my heart.  They hadn't met Lindy at this point but I was excited to bring her in to meet them.

I think I shot 500-600 rounds over the course of time.  I would go once a week--either on Friday night after work or on Sunday morning before I started my errands.  It was actually quite stress relieving!  I loved being at the skeet area, alone, just practicing.  No old men to badger me.  Just focusing on shooting.

Examining and Minimizing Frustration
So I was feeling pretty good about how things were going for me.  It wasn't over-confidence but rather gaining a sense of understanding as well as a bit more experience.  Like I said, after 500-600 rounds shot, you get comfortable.  However, my Winchester was still heavy.  Some of the mechanics of the gun were still troublesome to me, and I wanted to mitigate that frustration.  I revisited some shotgun options and eventually landed on the Franchi Affinity.  I knew I wanted a gun 6lbs or less.  I knew I wanted a semi-automatic.  And I knew I wanted to spend less than $1,000.  That process took me about two-weeks of research.  I read review after review.  I compared it to other models.  I felt pretty confident that this was my gun.  But I still had to buy it. 

I called that same up-selling Sportsman's retail store and asked if they had the Franchi Affinity.  Of course they didn't--but they could recommend an Over-Under they had in stock.  Ugh.  Okay, fine, but no thanks.  Why did I even bother?

The second store I called had it in stock!  Except they didn't have it in the color I wanted (black synthetic which was the least expensive material type) but they had it in Walnut (the most expensive material type) -- and just as I was getting ready to eyeroll at them over the phone -- they said it was on sale! to the same price as the synthetic! and I said, okay.  I would like to come in and "look at it" and the guy said "Never doubt a woman who has her mind made up" or some other joke.  So off I went!

I arrived at French Creek Outfitters a few hours later (#work) and the same guy that I was on the phone with greeted me.  I suppose it's not everyday a woman comes in looking for a shotgun, but he grabbed it and brought it out on the counter with me. 

"I don't really know what I am looking at" I said.  I felt a little embarrassed.  I told him I bought my first shotgun "just to learn off it" and that I had been practicing all summer and was ready to buy a gun to have longer term.    That I didn't want to spend over $1,000 because I didn't consider myself an "enthusiast" and I couldn't appreciate the value in what some of the guns offered.  I told him about the action on my Winchester being tight.  He showed me the gun, it was lightweight (I about DIED), the mechanics felt a lot easier to work with, and I honestly liked the walnut color... a lot.

This is where I say that "nothing really came easy" for me.  The other sports shop never told me I could trade in my gun.  Funny enough, I still had my Winchester in my car in anticipation of going shooting that night and he told me I COULD TRADE IT IN and the value of the Winchester could go against the selling price.  OH AND THE WALNUT GUN WAS ON SALE (I know I mentioned that before).

I was FLOORED when they gave me the trade in value of my old gun--it was maybe $50 LESS than what I paid for it.  Either they were GIVING me a deal on the trade in or I GOT a deal when buying it.  I didn't care.

I don't remember the last time I was ever so excited to buy something.  Honestly. 

I think I went home instead of shooting that night to just read and read about the gun.  I shot with it that Sunday, patterned it, and was ready to go into pheasant season.

To wrap things up, in order for me to fully enjoy hunting with Lindy I needed to identify my areas to work on as well as my points of frustration.
We needed to work on:
Whoa command (Lindy)
Accuracy in shooting (Me)

Points of frustration:
Heavy/cumbersome gun

On Lindy (Part 3/Final): Patience and Persistence on Cleaning Feathers from Your Kitchen

I just want to say THANK YOU to everyone that has been so supportive of my writing this blog--my lifelong friends from highschool and college that check in and say hi!  It means the world to me that you take a few moments to even skim some of what I am writing.  It's been awhile that I've spent the time actually writing and I realize that millenials think writing is more like listing in a lot of media these days--so thank you!

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The Beginning of the 2017 Pheasant Season
So I have this new gun.  It's so lightweight.  It's kinda pretty in a weird way.  I shot one time with it at the place I had been practicing.  I was ready to go.

The opening day of pheasant season is really bizzare.  There were people there with pitbulls trying to hunt birds.  I mean, if it works, it works.  I didn't find opening day to be enjoyable.  Too many people, and I felt bb's fly over my head so I left.  We actually had a pretty slow start to the season.  It wasn't that I was still missing, it was that we just weren't finding anything.

Until that one faithful workweek afternoon.  Hunting season #2--2017.

It was hot.  It was still October so it was still warm.

In fact, I had Lindy trimmed down earlier in the summer to help cool her down a bit--they definitely gave her the "GSP" and not the "Brittany Cut" which was pretty traumatic for me--almost looked like how she did out of rescue with the short hair.  I was torn about that.

So we were at a place that was sort of an easy go-to for me.  Blue Marsh Lake was a place I had frequented my first year, and in general because of the multiple recreation opportunities.  My first year here I mountain biked around the whole lake.  That was a task.  Phew.

This day I  remember vividly.

We were in the most popular field right near the parking lot.  It gets a lot of pressure because it's right there & gets hunted pretty hard.  I had a lot of luck there last year, for whatever reason.  Remember, for me "luck" at that point just meant finding birds, not shooting them.

We were probably 20 minutes into our hunt.  Lindy is, oddly enough, hunting very close to me.  She locks into a point and I think I'm just like "OH SHIT THIS IS THE MOMENT".  I "whoa" her.  And she actually whoaed.

(So, I probably didn't explain "whoa" to my non-hunting readers... it's basically a command to make the dog stop where it is--whether it is to avoid bumping the bird, crossing the street, or going after a scrap of food)

So, at this point I still was using eye protection that covered one eye to help with my accuracy.  I quick slid those down as I get in front of her and kick the brush (grass) to release the bird.  She held the point, the bird flushed, I shouldered my gun like I had been practicing, and I shot the bird with one shot!  

And I killed it!

And I am ALONE in this field  FREAKING OUT.  Like, omg!  I just did it!  Well.  Lindy also goes crazy.  It was like she also couldn't believe I had shot a bird.  Totally nuts!!  I forget to yell "dead bird" (honestly, I never had shot one so I totally forgot to yell that command) and she goes looking for it.  But she ends up bumping another bird in her quest.

At this point it's really hot.  We hadn't found my bird, but she's going into maniac mode so I pull her aside to try to calm her down.  It was really hot and honest to God these dogs will wear themselves down to the ground because of their prey drive.

Really, I am just thinking to myself "Me shooting a bird & not being able to find it is something that would totally happen to me"

In further honesty, I think we were both just so excited that we "needed a moment".  Part of me was worried we wouldn't be able to find the bird, but I honestly didn't care.  I couldn't believe it.  After about a 5-10 minute regroup (haha!) we went back out to try to find the bird.

"Dead bird" is the command I use to have her find the dead bird and retrieve it back to me.  And we go to where I think it fell and in that general area she gets on another hard point.

"I am not ready for another bird " I thought to myself, "Hell, I couldn't even find the first one."  

But she ended up pointing the bird I had shot!  And it was actually dead--sometimes they don't die, which is very sad.  It could be a wing-shot or a leg-shot or just not enough shot to kill them.  It's super important to learn how to humanely finish a bird yinz guys!  No animal should go out with a broken neck!!

And that was it.  The limit in PA is 2 birds, but honestly, I just wanted to wrap it up.  My adrenaline was spent within literally 10 minutes.  It was still pretty hot and Lindy was still in maniac mode.  

This is the actual photo of the first pheasant Lindy and I 100% got together.  I will always want to remember her this way.

It Doesn't End in the Field--A detail I forgot to think about

So, one detail that I left out from before was that during the Women's Hunt at Pheasant Valley Farm they teach bird cleaning.  Well, I opted not to take it because at the time I still didn't think I would be hunting.  And I certainly didn't think I would be cleaning a bird.

I mean, let's think about this:  I took the wrong online class to get my license, I was traumatized by the patriarchy for the millionth time buying a gun (heavy sarcasm & truth there), now I have to get the guts out of something I "supposedly" killed?  The likelihood of me getting a bird was minimal, and my first season hadn't even begun.  But I am relentless.

To YouTube I went.  

First of all, when I started down this path one thing I experienced my first season is that everyone has advice.  Like literally friends on Facebook that I didn't even know went bird hunting had advice.  So I was getting pulled in a few different directions with everything.  One thing I learned is that I needed to stick with a small group of folks that I could go to--obviously a huge source of support and knowledge were the folks from the Farm, my friends from the adoption home visit.  But it needed to end there because I was getting confused.  

This is my "First Pheasant Shot" obligatory selfie/obligatory short term Facebook Profile picture.  Spirits were high here.  I didn't realize how much more needed to be done  -- because, ya know, I didn't bother to go to the bird-cleaning part of the women's hunt... because I am not a hunter.

But I couldn't exactly call them and be like "oh hey, so I did shoot a bird, soooo... now what?"  

So YouTube is a lot like this unsolicted advice.  Very great tips but still challenging to figure out where to start. At the farm, I had watched them hang the bird to clean it.  Well, I didn't want to hang the bird in my kitchen.  But they were cleaning it inside so I had to be at least starting off on a good foot, right?

Well, their inside space is a garage and not a kitchen.  I am by no means a "ditz" or "airhead" but there was a sink there... I was just trying to draw parallels between the two spaces.  

So, I started by plucking some feathers off from where I wanted to make the incision.  I saw them do that at the farm, and now also on youtube, so I did just that.

Except.  

These birds have a lot of feathers.  

So it quickly becomes apparent to me that maybe I shouldn't have plucked the feathers.  Because somehow now there's blood.  And loose feathers.  On my hands.  Counter.  Lindy has inched her way to be right next to my leg.  Watching me.  Mocking me?

Beggar dog.

So I rinse off all this bloody feathery mess that has gotten onto my hands.  I start over and wrack my brain--I remember the legs getting cut off first.  Well, I grab my scissors ... you don't need scissors.  That actually went quite well.  Legs off.  Wings are next.  I kind of knew how to do those as I have cut whole chickens before so those came off easily.  I still didn't know how to get the feathers off to cut the skin.  

Back to blood and feathers.  I finally get the skin tore off (it separates quite easily).  I fen-angle with the tail a bit.  Then I realize... I have to take the guts out.  I distinctly remember them just grabbing the guts out of the bird.  They pretty much do it without second thought.

Then it hit me.  

The scent.  The scent of guts from the bird.  Vile  and putrid now have context for the next time I need to use those words.  And they feel like how you think the organs of a recently killed animal would feel--warm, bloody, slimy, various textures.

They didn't mention the smell at the training! 

I tried to shake out the rest of the guts.  Lindy still at my feet.  Hands bloody.  Gagging.

I quickly rinsed off the bird and wrapped it in a trash bag... and threw it in my freezer.  Any leftover guts would be addressed later.  I'm not sure why I opted for a 13-gallon trash bag, Ziploc bags work just fine.  Again, I had no idea what the hell I was doing.

My kitchen looked like Freddy Kruger worked at a restaurant.  I tried my hardest to contain the mess (I am a clean cook) but with the feathers and blood... it was totally out of control.  

Another "one and done" -- check shotshells while loading the gun,  clean birds outside.

Now that I can actually shoot the birds, things have really changed for me with this whole hunting thing.  It's not that I am out there to "hit limit" or get super competitive.  I'm actually not driven by competition.  I just genuinely enjoy this entire process even more than I had imagined.  

Wrapping Up

Since I've gotten Lindy, I've really tried to dedicate as much of my free time as possible working to ensure that she has a really good life post-rescue.  I enjoy giving her the things that will help her thrive and grow.  She still has some behavioral issues that I need to work through that hunting likely won't give her--she still has a strong fear of men.  The exceptions being my father, her "God-parent" that did the home visit and has become my hunting mentor, the owner at the farm.  She resisted crate training my first go-round, but is adapting to that quite well (it's taken time and a somewhat atypical approach).  So Lindy is no 100% rehabilitated dog.  She may never be.  She may always be fearful of men until trust is developed, and that's fine.  I've had guys around her that try to push her and it doesn't work.  And that's fine too.  

But I think what has really happened is that in me attempting to give her this life, she's also given me a deeper love of the outdoors (I haven't been on my mountain bike since I got her).  The addage in rescue is "who rescued who".  I get that told to me a lot and truth be told--while I agree that dogs contribute a significant amount to the overall well-being of our life, I am still not sure I see how she rescued me.  I' m looking forward to the day that I see that for myself.  For now, I am just enjoying everything about how this unfolded.

I never thought I would love hunting her the way that I do.  Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed the first season taking her out, missing everything, and laughing at myself in the process.  But this is something very different now that I can actually shoot things.  She's got good purpose and I feel like I can control and direct that purpose.  

As I am writing this blog post, here are the number of birds I have shot:

Pheasants in total: 17 (11 regular season / 7 private)

Chukar in total: 3 (these are a challenge for us.... it's not the bird, it's me.  They are frustrating birds)

Quail in total: 2!  They are tasty little things.  

Grouse: 0 -- that's a goal for 2018!  I get an extra week of vacation this year to help that quest :)

Woodcock: 0 -- another goal for 2018!

2018 and Beyond:

Lindy should be 4-ish this year.  We are thinking that with this continued training and refinement (of us both lol!) that she will be entering her hunting prime.  Which actually is kind intimidating for me in terms of handling her--she already tends to go maniac at the farm.

Ducks are my favorite bird ever.  I even have a tattoo of a duck! So I would love to see if I can get her trained and disciplined enough to duck hunt with me.  My biggest concern about it is whether or not she will be willing to sit in the blind long enough.  I've actually never been duck hunting (another adventure?) but I think they are gorgeous birds but moreso I think she will benefit from another training discipline.  One thing about Lindy is that she is very eager to please the humans she trusts, so she has taken very well to all of the training I have given her.

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SO THATS A WRAP!  I have a lot of other topics I can cover, but if anyone has something they would like me to write about, please let me know.  I certainly do NOT consider myself to have any depth of knowledge about hunting, dog training, or rehabilitating behavioral issues in dogs, so I likely won't be able to write from a place of authority.  This was the story of what I went through.  I located experienced resources local to me to help with this.

I think I have a fun/atypical story with Lindy so I thought it would be good to share it.  I hope that everyone enjoyed it. :)

I would never recommend the use of an e-collar on an animal without it being trained by a professional.  Especially on an animal with submission/abandonment issues like Lindy.  

On: Pittsburgh & Reading

The state of Pennsylvania should be cut in half.  The right side of the state, which encompasses Pittsburgh metropolitan area can best be described as "Midwestern Values with the pull of an East Coast Big City".  In fact, the rust-belt and steel-belt areas strongly encompass Pittsburgh.  These two areas are sometimes refereed to as Appalachia which is the region spanning from Kentucky to New York.  Pittsburgh is one of the few post-industrial cities to rebuild from the collapse of the steel industry.  The interesting part of this rebuild is that it only spanned one generation.  My parents were very much part of the generation whose economic opportunity changed when the steel mills closed down.  I am very much part of the generation who saw the rebirth of the city.

The left side of the state, which encompasses Philadelphia is in such contrast to Pittsburgh.  Getting lost in Pittsburgh, and you ask for directions, you are greeted with help.  Philadelphia is very cold in terms of culture and neighborly values.  So much for the City of Brotherly Love.  The interesting piece of both cities--and probably where I would say that the similarities end--is that they both embrace a blue-collar worker.  I would argue that Pittsburgh probably has a "relentless" nature to a lot of what they do--I mean, how can you recover from an economic collapse without some nature of dedication?  Philadelphia and it's big-city nature really haven't had to experience much of anything post-industrial.  

How Do You Adapt to A Culture Where Values Are So Different?

Well, you don't really.  I've struggled significantly with understanding the culture of "self" that is so prevalent in Eastern PA.  If I had to pick two words that describe Pittsburgh culture, it would be "neighbor" and "pride".  The two words I would pick for Philly would be "self" and "crass".  I find a lot of that "big city" cultural influence to be, well, crass.  

Berks County is not in the Philadelphia Metropolitan Area, but a lot of the culture here is drawn off what I would expect to be somewhat of a transient immigrant population.  

If you have ever driven through Downtown Reading, you will see what I mean.  Never in my life have I seen people so lazy, disrespectful, and illiterate as I have driving through Downtown Reading.  They double park, stop in the middle of the road to let people out, cut you off.  

This is a city with probably at most, a population of 80,000.  Like, this is barely a city when you think of "city".  There is no reason to drive in the manner that they do.  

So you can't really adapt in an area like Berks County.  If my life had taken me to Philly adaption would be easy--keep to myself and move on.  But Berks County isn't Philly.  The city damn near shuts down with any snowfall, because the systems in place to provide public services are inefficient.  The highway infrastructure isn't built to accommodate growth.  The pride in the city/area are virtually non-existent.  Have you ever attempted to run/walk/bike along the Reading section of the Schuylkill River Trail?  

I actually stole this image from a Google search, but rest assured that this "plastic bottle dam" is still there.  And this is 100% indicative of the culture in Berks County.  Joking about Pittsburgh River pollution because lack of environmental regulations is pretty bad.  But this?  This is another level where people individually and collectively completely disregard the environment.  This is not a bunch of highschool kids throwing their junk because they are lazy.

The first time I saw this was on a bike ride along this trail.  It was pre-Lindy so it must have been a month or two after I moved out here.  I never returned to this trail.  My impression of this area has been shaped by this.  How does one portage around a bottle dam?  I never had an interest in kayaking this waterway.

Accepting Defeat

Yup, I raised my white flag to Berks County a long time ago.  I am fortunate enough to have developed meaningful friendships with a small group of people.  Key word being small.  I find that a lot of what drives me--that "hometown" cultural/value system, coupled with my age (too busy to be that "social butterfly") just haven't provided me the opportunity to develop the same system of friendship that I had in Pittsburgh.  Granted, I grew up in Pittsburgh so I've encountered a lot more people in my 30+ years there, compared to my 3 years here, but I am very happy with where I am in Berks County. 

On Fear & Core Values

I'm going to leave my big pheasant-hunting cliffhanger for another day.  And perhaps I shouldn't give too deep into such serious subjects too soon.  I am the type of person, "offline", that often waits a long time to share such personal stories.

But I don't want this blog to be just about Lindy.  And how cleaning a bird for the first time poked at my cleanliness OCD.
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In highschool, I was the least likely kid to go to college.  Like, if there was some really-mean underground list of less desirable traits about kids, I was probably that kid listed as not going to college.  But you see, my parents didn't go to college and my father in particular really pressed the notion of "They pay for the mind, not the body" as he is a heavy equipment operator.  I'm not sure I want to get into whether or not a four-year school is the best option (I actually don't agree) but I share this to let folks know that was the background I come from.  My parents really pressed for college.

I went to college.  And, because of the career path I was interested in, I needed to get a Master's degree as well.  This is where I share that my education was key to my career growth.  My education and my drive.  I was the fist in my family to obtain a Master's degree.  Because of my education, experience, and drive, I was able to advance pretty quickly within my career track.  For the 10 years I spent in public administration and public service, I wholeheartedly enjoyed this choice.

There is no good way to describe what it feels like to see a neighborhood get a park built based off the grant you wrote and the project you collaborated on.  It's really a great high point of a career in public service.

Oddly enough, there is no good way to describe what it feels like to have a phone call from the town attorney that calls you for a meeting to discuss "Your future employment" in 30 minutes.  It's really the lowest feeling in the entire world--mainly because literally nothing you can do professionally can prevent you from the petty politics of local towns.

And that is exactly what happened.

Two weeks after I had moved into my new place.  Two months after ending an incredibly abusive relationship.

I actually don't dive into details of this relationship with many people.  Not because I am too scared.  Because I am not sure that "talking about it" is the best way for me to deal with it.  It's not that I have all of the emotion bottled up, but that my experience is best shared by bringing awareness to abuse in general.

I was fortunate that I had a mother that seemed to recognize that something was happening to me.  I will never forget the night before I moved out.  It was just like she knew I needed to get out of there.  I'm not sure if that is womens intuition at work, but she had wanted me out of there for awhile (we looked at apartments a few times) but something made her decide "tomorrow" was the day.

I had found an apartment but it wasn't going to be ready for another two months.  After another one of our fights, during the "make-up" phase, I told him I was moving out.  That I wanted to try to be friends, and that I will help him with the bills while he found a roommate.

At that time, I was 30lbs lighter (whomp, whomp) and he took something from GNC to help grow his muscles.  He walked out of the room and I went to walk upstairs to help keep the separation.

They say abuse takes many forms.  And I suppose it's true.  For the two years we had spent together, I suppose I can say I was abused.  I was emotionally abused and mentally manipulated.

But that night, it came full circle.  It happened so quickly that when I think about it now, it feels so surreal.  Just as quickly as we split apart, I was halfway up the stairs when he grabbed the back of my head, by my hair, and threw me down the steps.  I remember falling backward.

I remember being on the floor.  I remember that my shoulder fell into a sharp corner of the banister. I remember that more than my head or other body parts hurting-- I remember that my hair hurt.  Like the actual root of my hair.  I remember him saying that I will not make it on my own without him--that I needed him,.  That he was building this life for us.  That the house was our first step to a life together forever and I was throwing it away.

That's all that I remember of that night.  I remember calling my mother.  I didn't tell her about the staircase.  The panic in her voice I remember.  I was sobbing out of fear.

Even still in that moment, I didn't think I could make it on my own.

And the next day I was off work.  My father & my cousin Ryan came over and moved my stuff.

I stayed with a family member for two months while my apartment was getting ready.  I operated in a daze.  Total daze.

The day I moved into my apartment, he showed up. How the hell he found out boggles my mind.  It took me a long time to feel okay from that.  To heal, I guess?  Do you ever "heal" or do you just learn & grow?  I like to think all of the above.

It was during that same time that I had become friends with a work colleague named Katherine.  And she has been a great friend to me since that time.

It was also during that time that I started my annual holiday cookie donation.  Each year I would make & donate massive amounts of cookies to the local woman's shelter.

You see, I was fortunate enough to have family to help me during that time.  Other's are not so fortunate.

For the 2017 donation, I opted to make lasagna.  I don't like baking.  This year I donated 10 lasangas to the women's shelter.

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That was, oddly enough, in 2009.  It's hard to believe that was  almost 10 years ago.  I suppose it still has played a role in molding who I am.  I think it has made me smarter to what building a healthy relationship looks like.

It's Valentine's Day week as I am writing this.  I see a lot of admirable relationships in my life--my parents, who are highschool sweethearts and married 40 years.  They've managed to maintain their marriage through what I would imagine to be up's and down's that I may never know.  I see a female co-worker who is re-married with no children and she & her husband hold hands all through the company Christmas party.  I see relationships without the marriage title that are a lot stronger & healthier than folks that stay married.

I cannot imagine being in a relationship on Valentine's Day, or any other day of the year, where the common goal isn't to bring out the best in the other person, grow with them, and have the same shared core values.  Love, care, trust, and respect are the values that healthy relationships are built on.  Secondary values are also really important, but in the off-and-on relationships I've had over the years, I continue to find that if one of my core values is missing in the guy, it just won't work.

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In the day and age that we are able to filter photos, swipe left or right immediately, and build an illusion of ourselves, I find myself in such stark contrast of what that is.  Dating has taken on a level of superficiality that is well beyond me--even in my most superficial moments.

I guess in that regard I am still that "old soul".

But really, how many relationships have broken down because the woman's body type changed?   Or their hair went gray? Or because the guy really wasn't this outdoorsy-rugged-patient with man hating rescue bird dogs (total projections right there! lol!)?  It certainly happens, but more often than not the relationship falls apart because it's not built on common core values.

I'm really happy to be in a place where I can honestly say that I am not interested in perusing any relationship that isn't built upon love, care, trust, and respect.  I'm fortunate to have identified my core values as such--it will allow me to be in a relationship guided by those principals.
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Do all things with love.  This has been a great reminder for me--it pushes me when I need to think about an action before I do it.  It also helps me assess situations when I revisit them in my thoughts.

On Lindy (Part 2): Patience and Persistence for Her & Me

I am super flattered by everyone reading my blog.  Thank you all so much!  I joke about how I have always wanted to write a book but the fact of the matter is that for two years in High School, instead of attending my neighborhood Pittsburgh Public School I actually went to one of the magnet schools for Creative and Preforming Arts.  My "specialty" was Literary Arts so it has always been pretty easy for me to express myself using the written word.

Texting with me can be a total nightmare.  When I was a municipal manager, however, I did exceptionally well at writing compelling grant proposals.  That actually got funded.  Ha!

I digress.
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So I adopted Lindy on July 9, 2016.  I started her at the farm pretty quickly after that.  Sorry for any confusion surrounding the dates.  The actual e-collar training/hunting training lasted until late August 2016.  It was a series of go to the farm, train, work on what I/we learned on my own, go back refine the technique or progress in training.

Simultaneously as Lindy's e-collar training turned hunting training was wrapping up at Pheasant Valley Farm, the start of pheasant season was beginning.  I was still pretty convinced that I wasn't ready to take on carrying a gun and shooting a bird--it just felt so out of my wheelhouse. 

I had done a pretty good job documenting her progress via Facebook--and she was stealing hearts of my family & friends.  I remember one morning writing a long email to the gentleman that had done my home visit.

You see, during my lapse of patience in adopting, I had emailed this man a few times to see if he could help push along my application.  I was a little embarrassed to reach out given that circumstance, but I wrote a very-typical-to-Whitney 5,000 word email updating him on Lindy and "letting him know" about this "great place" local to us called Pheasant Valley Farm.  I quickly got a response--"I know it, I guide there".  I still hadn't realized how special Jon and Becky would become to me out here.  We became Facebook friends and connected on so many other great levels.  Serendipity!

Okay, so here we are.  Pheasant season.  I needed my "pheasant shooting licence".  Hunting license.  I took an online test.  Easy peasy.  Only, I paid $100 and it was not the correct test.  So, I showed up at a women's hunting event totally unaware that I didn't have the correct education and my license wasn't valid.  Took the correct education course.  Now I was a licensed hunter.

I had no gun.  I didn't know what ammo I needed.  At this point however, I knew that I needed shotgun shells and not bullets thanks to the proper hunters education course.  I bought a bird vest & pants from Cabelas.  I elected to use my work boots to save money.  I got an orange hoody from Ollie's.

I still had no gun.

I was petrified to go into a gun store alone to buy a gun.  Maybe I could call my dad to help me buy a gun?  It's a 4 hour drive.  That's absurd.  The next day was my last training day at the farm.  I waited until the last minute to buy the gun I was that scared to go buy it alone.

I'm not sure why, but I was so scared to buy a gun alone.  I kept pushing it off and pushing it off... I had gone into a few stores alone to look at guns, but the salesmen there would try to sway me to guns that cost over $2,000.  I don't think a beginner, that literally knows nothing, needs to invest $2,000 into a gun.  It's not that I don't see value in a "better gun" or a "nice gun", but I honestly just needed something to learn on.  I think that, coupled with my fear, just made me very resistant to buying a gun.

I kept calling around to a few places.  "Too close to pheasant season, we have no guns".  I finally located one and drove out to get it.  Seemed fine (how the heck did I know?).  I only knew two things: I wanted a semi automatic and I needed a 20g.  So I got a Winchester 1400.  I asked the guy to give me the right shells.  I took a picture of the top of the box so I knew what I needed to buy next time.

And for my entire first year of hunting season, anytime I needed to buy shells, I looked at the picture on my phone.  And boy did I need shells.

Our first year out we found 25 birds!  Yes, I kept track.  I also missed 25 birds!  I shot just under three boxes of shells.  Folks that can read this & automatically know what went wrong are laughing.

For anyone that doesn't know: In a semi-automatic (or pump action?) shotgun, the chamber holds three shells.  You only get three shots.  So that means I pretty much took three shots at each bird.  And still missed. 

Like, I was beyond awful at this.  I grew to resent that gun--it was heavy.  The action was so tight.  I loaded the shotshell in backwards one time and it was IMPOSSIBLE to try to get out.  I missed all of the birds--it had to be the gun.

Also:  trust me when I tell you that the first time you accidentally load the shell incorrectly & it jams, it is also the last time.  I check every time now. 

Despite my growing frustration on the very heavy learning curve I was experiencing, the total enjoyment of spending time with my dog outside and helping her grow in such a way that was natural to her far, far outweighed the superficial frustrations of missing everything.

We wrapped up the season identifying some items we still needed to work on.  She needed significant work on "whoa" and I needed it with accuracy.

Between her bumping a lot birds and my terrible shot, it was clear that the first season was just preparation for a longer term hunting plan.  

I still don't consider myself a "hunter".  I mean, if I were an actual hunter, than missing 25 birds would probably have totally deflated the fun of the task.  In my mind getting ONE BIRD at some point in time was a logical goal--I knew Lindy could retrieve to me, and all I wanted was to bring the entire process full circle--she finds & points, I shoot (and actually hit it), she retrieves.  Otherwise, we were just chasing birds all day.  So we wrapped up the season & I took the valuable pieces with me and left any frustration behind.

I tend to think similarly with all items of frustration in life--it's easier to leave that behind and move on.  I identified my items of frustration and developed a plan to work through those.  

I took my heavy ass gun and practiced every Sunday at a trap shooting place near me.  Pretty much every time I was there, I shot through 50 shells.  The first two times were awful--I was missing everything and when I would actually break one, I couldn't figure out why.  Until eventually everything clicked.  And eventually the 50 shells grew to 100.  And I was going from shooting 2-3 of 25 to 19 of 25 .... and then 30 of 50 to 45 of 50 ... and then to 85 of 100.  I knew which angle I was good at and which one I wasn't. I worked at the ones I wasn't.

I think I went through 6 cases the summer of 2017.  The majority I shot with my heavy ass gun.

Perhaps it wasn't the gun afterall.  Go figure.

So I worked through my shooting accuracy.  I felt confident that this year I could shoot A BIRD at SOME POINT in the season.  It was going to happen this year!  Lindy and I had worked on whoa--she's still a young, prey driven bird dog so this may be a work in progress for the next two or so years, but she's getting there.   

I was thinking about all of the time spent working on my accuracy, working on whoa, and in attempting to remove the last point of frustration from last year, I started to consider upgrading my gun.

But that meant I had to go back to a gun store.

Which also meant I was back to dragging my feet on buying a gun.

So now, that same gun store than wanted me to buy the $2,000 beginner gun--they now wanted me to buy the $4,000 "upgrade".  Why are white men so aggressive/think women will just buy something out of ignorance?  This particular store was local to me--I had bought six cases of shells from them!  I wanted to support the business by buying the gun but I had enough of their sales tactics.  Sales 101: people will know if you are attempting to oversell them & they will grow to resent that once they realize what is happening.  

Ugh.  I still hate the thought of buying another gun.  Like, this is worse than car shopping.  The next time I buy a gun, I am buying it online.  I don't even know if I can buy it online but I am going to try.  

The silver lining is that the store I finally chose to buy my gun at was awesome.  The guys talked to me about my incredibly novice status in bird hunting, some of what went wrong for my the first year--how I attempted to overcome it and what I was looking to gain from the upgrade.  I EVEN LEARNED I COULD "TRADE-IN" MY OLD GUN.  Why didn't this first store tell me any of this? So the gun I had been considering, they agreed, would be a good fit for me.

I think they could tell how scared I was of everything--I even asked them if they could assemble it for me--but luckily it came assembled.  

So here I was again, 2-3 days out from pheasant season, messing around with guns.  I'm sure there's some subconscious mumbo-jumbo about avoidance in there, but really?  What woman wants to deal with this by herself let alone being manipulated during the process?  Or person for that matter?

So I am going to wrap up this entry for  now.  Cliffhanger.  

The next blog post I will write about will be On Lindy (Part 3/Final): Patience & Persistence for cleaning up feathers from all over your kitchen.  I ended up shooting my first bird.  And lots of other really fun details from 2017-now.  

Thank you for reading this!

On Lindy (Part 1): Patience and Serendipity collide

I am back.  This is my second post!  Thirty people read my last blog entry!  Thirty!  I expected three--my BFF from Pittsburgh, my BFF from Reading & her husband.  So, hi to anyone else!  :)

This post is really long.  I am trying to simultaneously describe the events surrounding getting Lindy, Lindy's background, and how this whole hunting thing started for me.  Each topic probably deserves its own post, but I guess I can do that later, if needed?  Oh well, grab a glass of wine or your favorite beverage!
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Six months into Reading, and really unimpressed with a guy I was dating (he always took me to this random bar like a half hour from my house), I think I was ready to add in something I had been waiting a long time for--a dog.

Choosing a Brittany was a somewhat easy choice for me--a smaller hunting dog that would be a great hiking companion.  I completed my adoption application online.  I had my home visit with a very nice man & his wife (more on this later).  Waited. Sent emails.  Waited. Waited.  More emails.  Waited.  Usually a pretty patient person, four months later, I didn't have a dog.

It wasn't until a Friday that I had a conversation with my local NBRAN coordinator about a group of 11 dogs that were taken into rescue.  This rescue group is called the NBRAN Indiana 11.  The group of dogs were left for an estimated two years by a man that would periodically drop off bags of dog food.  The house was boarded up.  The good thing is that they don't associate their abandonment with humans because the human was never around.

Warning: This is a graphic video

Pennsylvania was getting several of the rescues but they needed some time with their fosters to assess the depth of behavioral and health issues and prepare them for adoption.  Sadly, some of the pups in the rescue are placed with permanent fosters.  My heart still breaks thinking of these dogs.

If you can stomach the video, you will see Lindy at 1:48.  I look at pictures of her right out of rescue and cannot believe she is the same dog.  Physically she looks totally different.  Her coat was so short she looked like a GSP.  

In fact, this is sort of where another instance of serendipity occured for me--I was taking Lindy on a quick walk when I was stopped by a man that asked me if she was a GSP.  I laughed a bit & we got to talking.  I told him I wanted to get her e-collar trained to hike with her.  He suggested I contact a place called Pheasant Valley Farm because they helped him train his dog.  

"The Rest Is History" as the say?  Not so fast.

I eventually connected with the owner of the farm & I took her out for her first assessment.

When I pulled up to the farm I was greeted by this beautiful plot of sunflowers.   The sunflowers, my favorite flower, I had hoped were a sign of something positive to come.



Their concern was that her background & behavioral issues would prevent her from being training on an e-collar.  

Lindy came with some baggage from her abandonment.  Physically she still had signs of having a recent litter (see photo above), her fur was splotchy and totally bare in some areas, and finally, she also has a deformity on her rear that may cause UTI's.  Behaviorally she was incredibly submissive, often submitting to me even putting on a leash, had significant confidence issues, as well as abandonment anxiety.  It was funny--her foster family, who I absolutely adore, was describing these things to me and my main concern about her was the UTI.  None of her "baggage" scared me.  This is an important aside.

Some folks say that I come across as very confident.  I suppose in many regards, I am.  I further suppose I also know myself well enough that when I am in a totally new environment, I just don't react.  But apparently my face says it all.  This is another important aside.

So I took Lindy to Pheasant Valley for this assessment of whether or not she could actually be e-collar trained.  I remember not having not even one premonition about how things would go.  I think I was preparing myself for them to tell me she was too submissive or that we were too bonded.  You see, I hand-fed her for several weeks to help build our bond.

"Upland bird" was definitely not on the radar.

I follow them down to their training field, which I fully expected to be similar to a baseball field, but felt more like Anne of Green Gables meets corn maze.  Again, I literally had no good clue of what was going on other than I wanted to hike with her.

It was then I heard more new terms: "chukar", "scent tracking", "scent cone".  I tried to keep up... sharing that she was described by her fosters as "birdy" but that I didn't know what that actually meant.  I told them I didn't even know what a chukar was.  I didn't!

Told yinz it looks like Anne of Green Gables! At least, thats how I described it to my father who later told me they are  actually "hunting fields".

Lindy was very receptive to Karen, the lead trainer.    During this first session, we had her on a long training lead.  They encouraged letting go of the leash, so we did.

Well, I don't think I was prepared for what was about to happen.  And it's not that she bolted & we couldn't find her.  In fact, it took about 5 minutes for her to build the autonomy.

As she is building this autonomy, Mark and Karen start saying more words--"tracking", "scent cone", "locked in".  Again, I still thought we were talking about the e-collar training.

Well, no.  A bird goes flying out from where Lindy was.  

Part of me wishes I was writing this blog last year as it was happening, because (1) I had no clue what kind of bird it was (a chukar) that flew through this "grassy stuff" (it's called sorghum) and (2) I could probably recall the details more closely.  

This is the first bird Lindy was ever exposed to.  Probably goes without saying that I also learned what a chukar is!   

One detail that I 100% recall are the owners saying "She's a hunting dog" and laughing.  This is where I think I am told that my face said it all... "What the hell did I just get myself into"... Then she finds another bird.  And she's hooked.  And I think I am still trying to process a lot of this.  We eventually get her back and I think I was just stunned.  Because "I don't hunt" I told them.

Every training the entire summer went exactly like the one I just described.   I also learned the term "head shot"--I didn't have to google that.  

We spent the remainder of the summer getting her e-collar trained, which she did very well with.  It was through them that I was able to locate a place that I could consistently run her off leash.  I would be lying if I said that I wasn't 100% out of my element.  I didn't feel scared about it.  I just wasn't confident I had the knowledge or skill to provide for her what she needed.

More importantly is the transformation that has occurred with Lindy as a result of this training.  I left there with the skills, knowledge, and wavering confidence that I could give her the life she needed.

In fact, a few times I thought to myself "Maybe Lindy would be better off with someone else, someone who knows how to hunt".  

Boy, do I have great memories of going through that training with her.  I think I saw her come out of her shell through training at the farm.  It was easy for me to help rehabilitate her through hunting and her natural prey drive.

If I reflect on my first year with her--a good diet that I supplemented with one egg per week, daily off-leash exercise, and hunting have been the key to help rehabilitate significant health issues.  Her coat had fully regrown by Christmas.  She is no longer submissive.  Confidence issues are gone.  Abandonment anxiety is minimal.  I have a totally "new dog".  

Here she is a year later.  She looks like a totally different dog.

On Lindy (Part 2): Patience and Persistence for  Her & Me will be my next blog post.  I think I will dive into how things came full circle with the incredible folks that did our home visit, what it was like to start a new hobby, and some of the highlights and bloopers from the first two years hunting (spoiler alert: one time I accidentally put the shell in my shotgun backwards).

I hope you guys liked this post!  I took extra time to proofread, unlike my first post!

My First Post & How I went from Pittsburgh to Reading

My First Post & How I went from Pittsburgh to Reading

The story of how I got to Reading can be told two ways.  Cliff's notes: I was offered & accepted a job in the industry I was looking to transition to.  

However, if you know me the term "Cliff's Notes" really is not in my wheelhouse.  I love communicating clearly and at-length.

Leading up to Reading, PA was a period of timr inn my life that presented several consecutive challenges.  I was feeling like I need to "move on" from a lot of it--truth be told, even if I had accepted a job in Pittsburgh I likely would have had  he reminder of the burden of the last few years.  

Moving to Reading gave me somewhat of a "fresh start", I suppose.  I am hesitant to call it a fresh start because I am the same person I was when I moved from Pittsburgh in terms of values and sense of self, but I am no longer bogged down by some things that are really quite painful.

I always loved the outdoors--kayaking & hiking took up a lot of my time in Pittsburgh.

I suppose I ought to share some of what happened during my 20's--a time where most of my peers are traveling, getting married, heck even having kids--I suffered two job losses, personal health issues, my brother in law dying, and two relationships failing.  I have always been very career driven and those job losses took it right out of me.  It felt like for a period of time that something was happening to me every six months.  That despite the work ethic and determination that I had, I still wasn't getting any traction.  

It wasn't until my brother-in-law got sick that I really started to gain perspective.  I wanted nothing more than to spend as much time as possible with him because somehow I knew I wouldn't have it again.  So I did what anyone else in my situation would do--I quit my job to spend the last several weeks with him.  Crazy, right?  Not so much.  I was growing unhappy with my career path and knew I wanted change, what better time to job hunt and spend days at the hospital?  So I did.  I got a part time job to help supplement cash flow, at a local spin studio, and spent every free minute supporting my family during this incredibly challenging time.

Do you believe in serendipity?  Not in the John Cusak- love movie kind of way.  Or in the gourmet hot chocolate kind of way, but in the true definition.

ser·en·dip·i·tyˌserənˈdipədē/ nounthe occurrence and development  of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way.

You see, I had hired a career coach during my time off to help me with my job transition--I had spent just shy of 10 years in the public sector in municipal management and/or high level county government.  But I was done.  It wasn't working for me and I was done.  We talked often about which aspects of my job I loved--project management, road work, etc.  We pinpointed companies in Pittsburgh I would apply to.  We revamped my resume.  It wasn't cheap, but boy it was worth it.  I applied for a position at the company I work at now.  After a phone screening, I googled the company on LinkedIn ... low and behold one of my favorite instructors at my little part time job worked there.  

This is the first of a series of very serendipitous events since I moved from Pittsburgh.  It likely goes without saying that this same instructor has been my biggest advocate and an excelled role model and source of support to me. 

After I broke off a very abusive relationship, I moved to Mt. Washington.  I lost my job for the first time two weeks after I moved in.  This is the view from my condo there.

There are several emotions that I experienced on my drive over to Reading.  My parents were out of town so I truly did move here "alone".  The move company was great and I spent the next several months attempting to get settled into Berks County & figure out what the heck I was doing.  As I am entering my third year here, I feel like I have that sense of understanding and satisfaction.  Professionally, I am as happy as I have ever been.  Personally, I suppose I am as well.  

Serendipity is going to be a very big theme for me writing this blog.  I suppose the next item I will write about will be the situation with my rescue bird dog, Lindy, and her/my/our path.  That may take a series of postings.  I'm ending this blog post now with two more pictures:

   

Reading, PA seriously has the worst highway system.  I think this truck agrees.

This is Lindy.  4-5 people will probably read this blog & already know that :)

Till next time!