Giving up early is never an option

Outdoor writers operate under some rather unique circumstances. No story, no pay. Sorry, dude.

This means that during my many years of freelance outdoor writing, if I went on a trip and got skunked, whether fishing or hunting, it meant a complete waste of my time, travel expenses and loss of any potential income.

This applies as well to fishing stories. I always practiced the "just one more cast" philosophy. I'd keep casting up until the last possible moment, and guess what: in many cases, I was rewarded with a nice fish that provided numerous photos and resulted in a magazine sale.

Stick it out to the last moment on every fishing or hunting trip.

Time and again the "last cast" produced a jarring strike, a fine battle with a big fish, and left me with a few minutes to hurriedly coordinate a dozen or more key photographs that the outdoor magazines would publish.

The same principle applied on hunting trips. I'm so mindful of a five-day whitetail hunt to Idaho several years ago. I hunted hard every day during daylight hours while roaming the high country between the Salmon and Snake rivers.

I'd located a big buck, and tried for him every evening, and each night just at the end of shooting time, this monstrous buck would step out of the woods between 200 and 300 yards away. By the time I spotted the animal, put the cross-hairs of my 1 1/2-6X Swarovski scope on the buck, the shooting light would go. I never did get a shot at that huge western whitetail.

Two hours were available the last morning as my guide and I sat on a hill side waiting for a really nice 8-pointer that I'd passed up before. It was a make-or-break, do-or-die situation. My hunt would end in two hours, and I'd have to drive like crazy to make it to the airport in time to catch my flight to Michigan.

And I'd be returning without a story. That doesn't work well for big newspapers or magazines. They expect results, but have no clue about animal behavior, weather conditions and other potential problems.

Never give up early.

I sat patiently for almost an hour before spotting the 8-point making his way up the mountainous side hill. His head went behind a tree, and I raised the rifle to my shoulder and took a firm sitting rest with my elbows against the insides of my knees.

The sights were rock solid on the buck but he was taking his time and was partially screened by some thick brush. He was moving uphill toward me, and the minutes seemed to be speeding by. Finally the buck stepped out of the thick cover, stood facing directly at me, and I centered the cross-hairs on the white throat patch and squeezed the trigger.

The buck went down like it had been poleaxed, and I hurriedly shot several rolls of film, got the buck skinned out, packed into a box, and I was on my way to the airport with a story, fine meat and a nice rack.

Another last-minute break came on an Upper Peninsula bear hunt. I was down to the wire on the last evening of hunting, and would then travel on to the site of my next story that evening. My stand was north of Amasa in Iron County, and 15 minutes of shooting light remained.

I heard a twig snap, and out stepped a 250-pound boar. It walked to the bait, stood up to sniff around, dropped to all fours and was quartering away. The arrow slid in behind the last rib, angled forward, and sliced open both lungs and the heart. It went 15 yards and died.

This “never-give-up” philosophy has worked for me on many occasions.

I quickly set up my camera and tripod, measured the distance, focused on the bear, and I tripped the self timer. It gave me 10 seconds to get into position, and the flash went off. I shot several more photos, and as shooting light failed, the tag went on the bear.

I got a story out of that hunt, and the "one more cast" philosophy paid off many times for me with a good catch, a last-minute bear or deer, and it's a never-give-up attitude that pays off.

That's why I set my watch to the correct time every day, and I know when legal shooting time ends. I hunt until the last second, and when legal shooting time is over, I unload and case my firearm or bow, and call it a day.

It's just amazing though how often this never-give-up attitude will pay off in the field or on the water. It has helped me pay my bills for 44 years, and that is one reason I've been successful.

Giving up early is never an option.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors