History of the American Bison

~No intelligent excuse can be offered for the senseless slaughter and awful waste of a valuable and harmless animal purely for personal gain or to satisfy a blood-lust to kill. -Martin S. Garretson

80 million bison once roamed our prairies. The near extermination of the American buffalo did not happen overnight, nor was one generation of human fully responsible. Collectively, Native American Indians and white men increased the momentum. During the 1800s, approximately 200,000 buffalo were killed annually on the plains for trade of their hides, and tongue alone. For centuries, the remains of the discarded bison bones and meat left behind had slowly bleached away, decompose and became nature’s complex system of recycling life’s basic chemicals for grass.

In the mid 1870s, during the peak of the buffalo slaughter in western Kansas, a buffalo hide yard would handle as many as 80,000 hides at one time. Trade became so abundant that hides were often sold for $3 each by the hunter to wholesale dealers who then turned around and sold the hides anywhere from $8.50-$16.50 for low to high quality robes.

When the American exploration of the prairies began, the vast numbers of how many buffalo were encountered made it difficult to imagine that such killing would do great harm to the species. Not until 1864, was interest shown to pass laws attempting to protect wildlife, like the buffalo. Idaho Territory became the only one, state, territory or federal to pass legislation making it illegal to hunt buffalo between February 1st and July 1st, however all other times, it was open season and buffalo were already few and far between consisting of mostly the mountain variety in areas rarely reached by man. Slaughter had already taken its toll.

Once Idaho legislation passed, other lawmakers in Washington, began taking note of the thousands of accounts told of needless bison slaughter for hides. Congressman R.C. McCormick, Territorial Delegate from Arizona, introduced a bill aimed at reducing the slaughter, which read:

That, excepting for the purpose of using the meat for food or preserving the skin, it shall be unlawful for any person to kill the bison or buffalo found anywhere upon the public lands of the United States; and for violation of this law the offender shall, upon conviction before any court or competent jurisdiction, be liable to a fine of $100 for each animal killed.

Ultimately, the bill failed, having never been reported back from committee to the House of Representatives for action. However, over the next two years, Wyoming and Montana legislature passed similar laws to that of Idaho, aimed at reducing the killing of buffalo. Meanwhile, in Kansas, where perhaps the grossest of negligence of the senseless killing of bison still occurred, protests arose warning of the animals possible extermination. Congressman McCormick renewed his appeal to protect the buffalo referring to the buffalo as “the finest wild animal of our hemisphere.” He then, in hopes of strengthening his case of appeal, read several letters that had been written by army officers who had served on the buffalo plains of Kansas and Nebraska expressing their indignation that such cruelty to wild animals should be allowed to continue.

Had McCormick stopped at this point with the cruelty to wild animals, he may have been successful in some sort of further legislative protection for the bison, however Congress took no action to further protect the mammal when McCormick went on to further read a letter written by an Indian Agent and respected army officer citing the remarks of a Cheyenne chief, “Little Robe” who had once been scolded by the agent for allowing his young men to kill a white man’s ox. The Chief chided, “You people make a big talk, and sometimes war, if an Indian kills a white man’s ox to keep his wife and children from starving. What do you think my people ought to say and do when they themselves see their cattle (ie: buffalo) killed by your race when they are not hungry?

The truth hurt. Congress members were reminded that the buffalo was the Indian’s commissary and that if the Indians continued to have buffalo, they would prove to be most difficult to control.

It wasn’t until closer to the 1900s that slaughter of the buffalo nearly caused extinction. It was the help of one white man and an Indian of the Flathead reservation who saved the buffalo. For $2,000 in gold, the set price for thirteen buffalo, a man by the name of Michel Pablo set out to increase the herd by seeking to raising buffalo. By 1906, the herd numbered about 300 and Pablo sought out the federal government by asking President Theodore Roosevelt to trade him land on the Flathead reservation. Congress refused to appropriate the money for the buffalo causing Pablo to approach the Canadian government for grazing land for he and his herd. Instead of offering Pablo land in exchange, they negotiated the price of $200 a buffalo ultimately removing the buffalo from United States soil.

In the past 140 years, with the valiant efforts of some and a crusade that never fully left the mind of President Theodore Roosevelt, more and more began to point out the concern of the vanishing buffalo causing a handful of ranchers, working independently across the west, to hang up their rifles to help save the bison. A group of like-minded individuals set forth to form a society to work towards the permanent preservation of the buffalo. The American Bison Society then began to work towards establishing federal buffalo ranges, like the one at Yellowstone, along with memberships which enabled the society to raise adequate funds for its work. Within 2 years, Congress, having felt embarrassed by the Canadian purchase of Pablo’s herd rather than their own, appropriated enough money to purchase land for a buffalo refuge in western Montana. In 1909, the new range was fenced and buffalo purchased from independent ranchers were bought across Flathead and brought to their new home with a total of 158 buffalo. A year later, the total number had increased not only naturally but were “gifted” further bison in support of the extreme efforts spent to save the mammal from extinction. To this day, independent bison ranchers are still the crossroads between conservation and commerce. Critical to efforts set forth in saving both the landscape and the species, each rancher who engages in the mission of restoration does it for the pure unbridled love of the American Bison.

*Information noted above was taken from the excerpts of, ‘The Buffalo Book, a full saga of the American animal’, written in 1974 by David A. Dary

The Story behind Curly...

It’s no secret that I like to hunt. In fact, those of you who follow my journey, after having seen me on TV, do so with the knowledge going into it that my main profession, at the time, was that of a commercial fisherman. Please, spare me the politically correct, “fisherwoman” revision as I am not, in fact, a feminist to such extremes as some tend to think I am. But, alas, that is a topic for another blog. “Fisherman” suits me just fine.

Back to the point, being that I have a passion for hunting, fishing, outdoors, etc., I recently got into the hobby of shed hunting. Without going too much into it, shed hunting isn’t in reference to a backyard storage unit or “she-shed” workshop, but, in fact, referred to when the antlers of a large game animal are shed annually, due to a drop in testosterone causing the antler to become weak and eventually fall off. A new antler grows in its place and is often times larger than the previous year. Don’t fret, no animals are hurt during the shedding process.

Shed hunting, to me, is like one large Easter egg hunt, but for adults. It’s absolutely riveting when I come across one and believe me, the thrill never gets old. For those of you on the coastline, its quite similar to finding a shark tooth but picture it as being the biggest, most awesome shark tooth in the whole collection; each antler being unique in its own way and offering up a different story as to its host.

Picture is “Curly”, a Rambouillet sheep, used for both meat and the harvest of its wool. He is obviously quite different from a shed, wherein, he skull is still attached. When coming across this particular find, avid shed hunters refer to it as a deadhead. I must interject here, however, and point out that sheep are not an antlered animal and therefore DO NOT shed their horns like that of a caribou, deer or moose, for example.

Curly hails from Utah where I happened to cross paths with an interesting couple that, to this day, remain friends. Richard and his wife Lisa are sheep farmers. Now, I am aware that everyone has a difference of opinions when it comes to harvesting animals, etc however, in this particular blog, without going into exhausting and repetitive remarks as to why one, like myself, chooses to eat meat or hunt, I’ll cut to the “meat” of the story (see what I did there??) and get right to the entertaining aspect in all this with that being the “how” Curly came to be in my possession.

While pulled over to get my bearings regarding a local hot springs in Utah I had scheduled a small retreat for later that evening, Richard and his wife, noticing my moose rack atop my vehicle, were so bold as to offer up a trade. Being the hustler I am, I managed to keep my moose and still acquire the sheep after following the lovely couple back to their ranch (ie: slaughterhouse - so not the makings of a scary movie) to find “Curly” amidst a morbidly attractive graveyard for similarly slain sheep. After several laughs and much deliberation, Curly was mounted to the grill of my MDX and made it clear the hell to Tennessee before losing his lower jaw to a freak thunderstorm. Reaching our final destination, he was given a thorough pressure wash and turned into a beautiful piece of art (or so I like to think) with a brand new paint job and sporadic accoutrements of 24k gold leafing.

Curly is now a part of what will be an even larger collection of “same same but different” deadheads that were once a revered and gorgeous live animal having died of natural, or for great cause, became something that looked straight out of a zombie film and with a little inspiration, made beautiful again.

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Around the World in 35 years..

Tomorrow is my birthday so of course, like most, I enjoy a little celebration. But, seeing as I am currently unemployed, seeking optimal business ventures, sexually and technologically frustrated, single (and might I mention, still sexy) redhead, I’m having to shower myself in my own gifts (insert birthday pity party of one, here).

This year, I thought of Sicily. Now, I might have, at one point, mentioned, I’m not huge on traveling to foreign cities alone. Not because I’m scared of the interaction but because often times, I hesitate due to the difficulties I may face, for example, language barriers (somehow I always revert to my broken up Spanglish). This, ultimately, is my biggest deterrent. However, I’ve managed to travel to many countries outside the US that all speak their own language and have not yet found myself in a situation that would deem unmanageable. I chose Sicily, as it was an easy option for me due to the fact that one of my best friends, Ms. Cayanne Peppers, happened to become recently stationed here in accordance to her position within the US Navy. Free place to stay, friendly faces, and relatively inexpensive costs associated with the local tourism endeavors, why not"? That being said, her scheduling, which I always seem to disregard as it pertains to the regular ole “9 to 5’ers”, hasn’t quite aligned with mine leaving me to fend for myself among a city whose population is upwards of 300,000.

Because of this scheduling dilemma, I have had to face my fears and interact with complete strangers, some through efforts of my own. While typically I don’t back down from a challenge, I found this to be one I was so nervous to partake that I spent the first 2 days within the confines of her villa, keeping myself busy helping to unpack her belongings and organize her residency. I like that kind of busy work but, I kept berating myself for not being brave enough to take a stroll down to the local bus depot and catch a ride into the safe, daylight hours of downtown Catania.

Through contacts of my friend, bear in mind, she hardly knew anyone herself having just moved here two weeks ago, I gathered up the gumption to meet with a retired local who was born in the US but has resided in Sicily for some 10 years. Through this woman, I met 3 other locals and found myself enjoying these wildly different, cultural experiences, such as the celebration of Saint Agata (incredible revelation into the misogyny that occurred as far back as 251AD) and the more commonly practiced phenomenon that occurs around the world no matter the language, dinner. Here it is not unusual to eat sweet pastries throughout the day, taste countless flavors of true Italian gelato and begin your dinner excursion at roughly 9pm consisting of more self indulgent treats like pizza and vino and, you guessed, more sweet desserts, leaving you socializing with friends around the dinner table until sometimes two or three in the morning.

Besides my stay here in Italy, I also managed to squeeze in a quick weekend trip to Moldova. Now this isn’t a place noticeably on the map one would think to visit as any traveler, let alone an American, however, it is here that I had the most amazing of times, celebrating friends, who quickly felt like family, fell in love with an elderly local named Sergio (practicing a sort of AirBnb type villa) who welcomed our group with open arms and approximately 10 gallons of homemade wine (I have been referring to as “hooch” that subsequently went down like grapefruit juice) and found myself dreading the flight back to my aforementioned vacation destination of Sicily seeing as how I came to love and unequivocally enjoy my short stay in another wildly unexpected cultural immersion.

I guess the point I am trying to convey here is, life is so unexpected. Everyday, I find myself stressed out about one thing or another that ultimately ends up being of little consequence down the road. Whether my stress stems from the wonderment of where my next paycheck may derive, will I have a bed to lay my head at night or the lack of control I feel when it comes to personal relationships with friends or loved ones, budding romances or even more importantly, health. Life isn’t like a box of chocolates as Forest Gump so eloquently put, as that box always indicates on the packaging what you’re about to consume. Life is rather like nature: unpredictable yet capable of yielding exhilarating circumstances opening new doors to relationships, exposure and ideas, worldliness and understanding that it’s more that just what it is, it is, in fact, what you make of it.

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Technology, eh?

Do you know how fucking hard it is to become tech-savvy when you have no desire or will power to BE tech-savvy? Hi there, allow me to introduce myself…the worlds most nonconforming pain-in-the-ass, when it comes to pain-in-the-ass world-wide-interwebs nonsense.

Seriously, I thought the internet, with all it’s technology, robots, machines, etc, were supposed to un-complicate our lives. Here I am, trying to launch business ideas, create a website and simplify matters when all of a sudden, BAM, alert goes off that McAfee is trying to infect or disinfect my hardware, a picture downloaded from a cell phone now isn’t compatible to the software and my $1,000 laptop will need to purchase a new license just to accommodate said pic. I mean, what the actual fuck!

Okay, rant somewhat over, at least on paper its over. For now, back to the drawing board, which always feels like square one to me, and probably is taking up more brain power and thought process than really needed. You know what I do need, McAfee, HP and Apple, I need a skilled little fairy to sit in my perfectly organized pocket, ready for me to pull him/her out and say, this is the idea, lets make it happen! And while those cute little sweet magical fairies wave their wands and POOF, shit gets done, please feel free to leave me in the dark with that particular shit I don’t necessarily need to know when it comes to semantics and information.

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New Year, New Resolutions

The holidays are over, thank God because I just don’t see my liver handling another bender! Traveling across country, for the seventh time, proved to be less stressful than most of my previous ventures. That has a great deal to do with the people I am lucky enough to call friends in my life.

It’s no secret, my life is an open book. Hell, I lost rights to having a private life the minute I signed up for Below Deck. While that may bother some, and perhaps may prove inconvenient down the road, it is not something that hinders me from living my life currently. I enjoy the hell out of doing whatever I want, when I want but that, in part, becomes applicable only because of the contacts I make and the friends willing to invite a character, like myself, into their homes. What should have been a week long road trip from Alaska to south Florida, ended up being a month spent on the road in amazing places and building up resources to continue pursuing my dreams. Meeting new people and connecting with old, got my gears grinding and my outlook renewed on the endless possibilities.

So now that the holidays are over, it is time to refocus. Utilize my skills and contacts and get down to business on projects I have given much thought to over the years and need to now implement in a manner that not only allows me to capitalize off the events and opportunities that come from my every day life as well as becoming a “public figure” because of the show, but continue to let me live each day to the fullest!

I won’t lie and say that I know what the fuck I’m doing. Nor will I think everything I can drum up will become successful, however, it’s hard for me to not think that way. The sky is the limit and with a new years resolution in place, that I must firmly stick to this go around, I can’t see these projects not taking off! Success is measured by many means but to me, it doesn’t always include money. You won’t find me chasing an opportunity purely for money but as my main priority, my focus is to remain on chasing those dreams that provide me with a sense of fulfilled passion about what it is and exactly how I chose to live.

So my new years resolution, is to see to it that I finish these projects, stay focused so that these passions of mine, so intense in fact, that to think that they not be carried through, gets me melancholy. I need to keep my promises to those friends and colleagues that have invested themselves in my interests and see to it that they aren’t let down by my fire perhaps needing to be re-lit and ignited from time to time. I will make 2020 my bitch, but in the good way, like the kind that comes in a female dog loving you unconditionally and without question.

Stay focused on your goals and do what you have to do to do what you want to do!

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Thank you, Arizona!

This trip south has been a whirlwind to say the least! What started off as an incredibly exciting adventure for me, turned sour pretty quickly. Not to dwell on the details but what I thought was a mutually beneficial relationship both in business and in life, abruptly came to an end and for the first time in my life, I had been ghosted.

To top it off, while driving through Canada, later than I typically prefer, in the start of winter, I was hit by a deer. SHE literally hit ME as I was driving into Jasper and happened to notice her off to the side of the road. Unfortunately, due to the icy road conditions, my brakes locked up and she continued on her path right into the front passenger headlight. Luckily for her, she got up and shook it off, seemingly unharmed. My car on the other hand…

In any event, I had not meant to end up in Arizona but because of the aforementioned series of events, I found myself driving aimlessly (albeit, with some purpose/backup plan always lurking in my head) and was invited to Thanksgiving with a girlfriend of mine who joined me earlier this fall in Alaska, on a moose hunt.

Holly has been a breath of fresh air. Kind and generous and drop dead gorgeous!! Why she is single is beyond me however, that wasn’t always the case. Remember Tyler from Below Deck Season 6? Not much of a character on the show. His scenes were brief, much like his, well, I digress...

Anyway, Holly met Tyler at some point shortly after filming Season 6 Tahiti. He left his mark on the town basically the same way as on M/Y My Seanna. Long story short, Holly and I have Tyler to thank for our friendship and I couldn’t be more stoked! Seeing as Tyler tends to follow the “likes” on social media, falls in love with every other girlfriend and would much rather be disingenuous than genuinely, a good person, Holly and I were both, his loss.

Arizona was a stop along this trip that I desperately needed. It allowed me time to focus and to have a bit of much needed girl time. It’s easy to lose touch with the ones you love the most while traveling so much so to be able to stop in and experience the love and friendship of those I admire and respect, does a body good. I’ve managed to pick up several new minerals and items to create more unusual jewelry pieces with. I continue to be astonished at the amount of love and support from friends and fans that have purchased my pieces.

Sedona proved to be a favorite of mine. Stopping in Jerome along the way, I was able to speak to many local copper miners and pick out a few awesome pieces. Huge thanks to Joshua and his adorable french bulldog, Andre, who has gone out of his way to show me an amazing time in this states red rocks as well as his friends Matteo and Holly (diff Holly) who shared with us their amazing AirBnB right in the heart of Sedona!

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Pick on Someone Your Own Shoe Size

Well, Thanksgiving is officially over as I have no more leftovers from turkey dinner. Drats!

Although, the night is not a total bust seeing as Below Deck aired a new episode. One that, dare I say, offered little to no drama, at least surrounding myself. And isn’t it funny how not one of my “haters” commended me on keeping my mouth shut and doing a job well, despite them requesting such of me every other week? Isn’t it funny that they only have nasty and disparaging words to spew when they feel as though attacking me may be seen as virtuous and just in their eyes and perhaps agreed upon by fellow viewers? Isn’t it funny…oh, who am I kidding, it’s all a joke when it comes to the battle of the keyboards these days.

I often get asked, how am I able to cope with all the rude, distasteful, vulgar and threatening comments literally sent to me daily from random strangers. It is simple. These strangers, the “haters” or “trolls” as they are commonly referred to, are people just like me. The difference is, what they do, say, feel, think or care about has nothing to do with me, even when directed at me. Sure, without viewers, whether fans of me or not, the show wouldn’t be as successful as it is however, what is that saying? Any press is good press? Perhaps that’s true. It certainly keeps my name alive and well and on the tip of all viewers tongues at any given day of the week, not just Mondays at 9pm EST.

What it boils down to, I would suppose, is that I am fortunate in that I have thick skin. I’m a pretty tough cookie (Get it? Pretty and tough? Get it? GOT IT??). I can take it for the mere reason that, I don’t know these people making snide comments. They aren’t addressing me in any way other than behind the fact that they feel strong and correct in their judgment given that they can say it behind a computer screen and not to my face. But what difference is there really when threatening my life via text versus in person? Perhaps if they feel it necessary to approach me in public, both theirs and my response would be different than expected. But does that make their distasteful behavior any less uncouth than my own? Form an opinion, it’s not frowned upon, wait, I take that back. It is frowned upon especially if it is your opinion and not my own. Oy!

Spewing hate publicly, for what is technically, a biased and unwarranted reason, is quite a bit more appalling and tell-tale of ones character, in my opinion, than watching edited reactions to an environment only experienced by those privy to the situation in its entirety and understanding it for what it is, Monday night entertainment, not a free-for-all for cyber bullying/bashing.

There are some interactions that must be experienced in order to appreciate the intent. Being everyone’s cup of tea is not a matter of importance to me, nor should it be to you. I take gratitude in being able to do what I want to do, when I want to do it and know that my close friends, family and even fans in support of me are able to see past the shows antics at creating a drama reality series and recognize me as someone else just living my life like the rest of us. Having the freedom within myself to recognize hate coming from complete strangers as something sad that lies within them is something I wouldn’t trade for anything. It’s also something I would wish for those that perhaps, aren’t as strong in their convictions. You have to be tough in this line of work, not just the manual labor and tedious hours of working on the water, but also, walking a mile in your own shoes and focusing on yourself versus the brand, style and size of others.

In short, so long as the hate doesn’t come from my mother or worse, my (would be) 75 year old grandfather, who was more likely to be doing respectable “grandfatherly” activities such as playing a game of cribbage or watching an Andy Griffith sitcom versus caring about how many likes, retweets and compliments he got while regurgitating sexist and vulgar one-liners directed at colleagues half his age, I’m all thanksgiving gravy baby!

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My, not-so-welcome-back, welcome back...

Phew! Well, I’m sure off to a great start!

Fans just love to speculate, and speculate they do, as to why or how I have such a grand “chip on my shoulder” when it comes to my choice of words and actions surrounding my fellow colleagues on board M/Y Valor and M/Y My Seanna. Rather than dish it out here, I encourage fans of the show to check out the podcast, ‘Radio Check’ on Apple iTunes as to my thoughts pertaining to the 43 minutes of edited drama reality TV meant as a source of your viewing pleasure for Monday night entertainment. This goes without saying, I am fully aware of the target I placed on my back, when it comes to signing on to such a wide spread concept as to what a “public figure” must endure while become said public figure.

In this podcast, we get right to it discussing the raw and blatant sexiness of certain crew members on board as well as the sexism when faced with a woman unwilling to bow down to a man, in what is unfortunately recognized as a male dominated field, while also being having to succumb to the scrutiny, unfair treatment and overall act of scapegoat by those same males, unable to handle themselves accordingly within an environment to which they feel threatened.

Delighted to be a part of it, please tune in regarding Season 7 of Below Deck for a complete, and albeit, biased, yet fact driven point of view, where I speak with friend and fellow yachtie, Colin Macy-O’Toole from Below Deck Med as we get right into the nitty gritty regarding all the drama surrounding my first episode being “welcomed” for seriously, lack of a better word, second season, which takes place in beautiful, Phucket Thailand.

If there was any question before, let me be clear now, chauvinism is alive and well within this male deck crew, and SHOCKER, it starts at the top.

So tune in, and grab some ear muffs, for those of you unwilling to overlook my “truckers mouth”, for it is my hope that you begin to understand the method to my madness. For every action there is a reaction and lets just say, nothing good ever came from ‘poking the bear’.

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My point being...

Ever think to yourself you should start a blog because your life is literally one adventure after another and why not share it with the world, especially when you’re someone like me, constantly traveling, meeting new people, experiencing wild and crazy things that the typical adult female doesn’t normally experience? Someone like me that found myself scooped up and spotlighted in a globally infamous reality television series where anyone and everyone feels as though it is their God given right to judge me? Well here I am, bulls eye on my back and ready to let loose, still.

My personal Instagram already highlights this for the most part, but mixed in with the above, comes something I haven’t entirely figured out how I feel about with regards to expressing my true feelings. To make an incredibly long and drawn out train of thought hopefully shorter than I’ve already failed to express quickly, this blog will serve two purposes for me: 1) reiterate said highlights and 2) probably more importantly, here is where I will go into depth as to the full experience transpired around my life events. Whereas, with social media, I tend to react quickly and somewhat thoughtlessly while addressing those who tend to be more vocal than others as to how I choose to live my life. I’m sarcastic and quite a bit withdrawn from feeling as though I should explain myself to those who disagree with a post whether it’s controversial in their eyes or not. Fact of the matter is, I do what I prefer to do, when I prefer to do it. I’m one of those lucky ones that truly lives with no regrets. Wait, that’s not true, I regret that one time I did a 52 mile hike on the northern coast of California through, literally, rain, sleet, hail and mudslides, came across a perfectly intact, gorgeous whale vertebrate and chose to leave it behind. Usually I would pick something like this up and take it with me to appreciate as long as I can. I didn’t take this however. And not because of why most might consider not taking, ie: illegal in most states or simply leaving it behind for others to admire as it certainly was a site of beauty, but, after almost 4 years having gone by, still I kick myself for choosing as I did. No, I left behind because it was day 1 of 4, it was nearly 50lbs and to pick that item up to carry out with me along with my 45lb pitbull who hates water (did I mention this hike was along the northern California coastline where 20ft+ waves threatened to break right on our path?) and my 40lb overnight pack that cut into my shoulders ever so painfully, would have probably caused me to forfeit the entire hike/exploration/adventure entirely due to the constraints. I chose to be weak. Weak being physically and not mentally. I’m not typically weak.

Okay, tangent aside, here is where I will go into depth regarding the full why, how, where and what I did with each event, because I do think it is worth some explanation however, as defenselessly as possible, via a blog, and not in retort to comments of the proverbial “hater” on social media. As in, when it comes to my hunting posts, some people are put off? But why? No strike that, I don’t particularly care why people have an issue with what I do, I care about why they think what I do is any different than them choosing to do what they do. Why do some people get so bent out of shape over something someone does that they do not even fully understand or grasp? It is beyond me. But, I digress. Rather than just post a picture of a harvest/kill and write something snarky (or gasp, not snarky at all) here, I will try and explain why it is I do it and what I hope would help others to consider the good rather than focus on what they believe to be bad about the act(s).

I’ll end on this note, I don’t have only 2 focuses in mind with this blog. Truth is. I haven’t a clue what my focus is, just that I hope to help enlighten those who may not quite understand and instead of react negatively, read full on excerpts/disclosures of mine with the mindset that we are all unique. We are all different. We all have likes and dislikes and opinions. And it’s perfectly okay. I wrote on one of my Instagram posts the other day, “have the courage to be disliked”. I don’t think that I can write that enough. It isn’t up to me to make others happy. It is up to myself to live a life I am happy with, a life that I can look back and think, “Man, I slayed it!”

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