In the present hectic world, most of the people like to travel or hike their favorite destinations to get refreshed from their confused work schedules. When it comes to hiking, you need to consider some essential things. In this article, you will see about the hiking tips and tricks in the most effective manner and the tips to choose the best hunting boots will be reviewed in this section below
My best story
The easy route for any hunting magazine is to simply tell a traditional “hunting” story. A traditional story could be about anything … from a lucky hunter who drew a coveted, once-in-a-lifetime tag and shot his dream bull on the last minute of the last day to how to plant food plots to field tests about hot new hunting gear. A well-worn ditty most magazines love to trot out on a yearly basis is a variation of the ever-popular “Ten Tips For Bagging Your Buck Now!” New techniques for rut hunting are rare and probably stopped being original about the time John Wootters quit penning the “Buck Sense” column in this magazine.
AS A SOUTHERN Canadian boy living in Red Deer, Alta., I find crawling out of bed when I’d really rather just pull the covers over my head is about the hardest thing I do all day. But when you spend five days in the Yukon bush on a bison-hunting trip, and it’s -37- C outside and the only source of heat is a wood stove burned down to embers, getting up to stoke the fire is a biological imperative. Life, you discover, is all about warmth.
Although it is only mid-March, I am writing this column outdoors. In these last two days the tide has turned in the annual war between cold and warmth. No doubt there will be reverses–a late snowstorm, frost-pockets of resistance–but the issue is no longer in doubt. Looking across the valley from our terrace, I can see the light green of growth starting to feather the line of poplars on the far hilltop. And for the last hour a fox has been wandering nonchalantly in the field below them. He moves slowly about in the sun, sniffing the ground. Even through our field-glasses we cannot quite make out what he is doing. He looks as if he is eating worms, but I don’t see why they should be plentiful in these dry days on that well-drained slope. If he were a herbivore, I would say that he was grazing.
The view from Five Mile Bluff on the west bank of the Chippewa River in Wisconsin extends beyond five miles, so that looking down the gunsights of the valley one sees across a vast canopy of swamp white oak, soft maple, basswood, and river birch to where tangled bottomland forest gives way to open hayfields and prim white farmhouses with matching barns and the tall Harvestore silos known as “big blues.” It is a vista of the kind that kept landscape artists of the nineteenth century busy illustrating such themes as the marriage of wilderness and cultivation or, on a loftier level, a young nation’s limitless possibilities. Above its mouth, the Chippewa River splits into two unequal channels: the main channel skirts the bluffs, braiding itself like a glacial stream around sandbars and wooded islands, while Beef Slough, the lesser channel, runs a parallel course to the east before unraveling altogether. Between the channels lies a wedge-shaped floodplain twelve miles long by two and a half miles wide. From ground level–that is, to anyone slogging across it on foot–the Tiffany Wildlife Area is a dire swamp, a Mesopotamia of deadwater sloughs and pothole lakes interconnected with beaver canals, islands within islands, where the most pressing possibility is the possibility of getting lost. Every year, hunters manage to lose themselves in this pocket of wilderness, some more permanently than others.