Born to Matthew and Hoa Kamradt, Henry Van Kamradt was born at 10:32MST, weighing 7lbs 14oz and 20 1/2″ long. Below was a picture taken 1/2 hour after birth:
Archive for November, 2008
Onto us this day a boy is born 11/28/08
Friday, November 28th, 2008Deer Hunting 2008 continued
Monday, November 17th, 2008Remember me talking about the sun glistenin’ off the horns of some big ole buck, and then on to showing the POI of the .270? Yeah, well it didn’t go quite like that.
It rained copiously opening day, and because of that, it was pitch black so we couldn’t identify the sounds heard; originating about 50′ from the blind. We also heard splashing behind us and we both figured they were salmon running up the creek.
The next morning, there was 4″ of pure backdrop on the ground and it was a whole new world. At about the same time as the morning before, I saw two gray blobs walking towards us and they ambered back and forth. Doug nudged me and gave me 5 fingers pointing out his window about the same time. He and I didn’t use the same window and I had a limited view of what he had. As it slowly became lighter I heard his breathing increase and then him exhaling to relieve the tension. When he learned over and whispered to me “It’s fucking huge”, my fingers began to feel along the body of the camera for the appropriate buttons to push. I knew it was going to be black while operating this thing, so I practiced a few times the day before, and I had the power on. He was pulling the rifle up to his shoulder when I pushed the record button, and the camera made the most god-awful beep you’da ever heard. I then had a flash of two deer hauling ass off to my right, and Doug said “They’re gone”.
On the way back to the house we could see where deer had entered the water and walked the creek behind us.
Deer Hunting 2008
Monday, November 3rd, 2008Mark and I went out to Doug’s yesterday to assist him in clearing some shooting lanes and the path that leads to our blind. I say “our blind” because this year, I’m going to be taking my shots with a Sony, rather than a Remmington.
Over the last couple of years, I’ve had a cataract developing in my right eye that prevents me from seeing through either a scope, or open sights. It isn’t bad enough to have it replaced, but pleanty bad enough to use it effectively.
To tell you the truth, I prefer it this way. I’m not a born killer like my son Mark, or my brother, “The Butcher”. Those two can become cold blooded killers just by slipping a piece of steel in their hands. In past years I would have to “psyc” myself up to take a life, of which I could and did, do. There have been a few instances where’d I’d have to kill something in my life, but I paid a mental price for it. When it came time to squeeze the trigger, or bash it’s skull in with a pipe, I’d shed a few tears in its demise. I’ve always thanked it’s spirit for giving me the opportunity to feed my family with it’s meat and wished it well on it’s journey. This year I won’t have to do any of that.
This year, I’ll set next to Doug in his blind, with a very nice video camera, and record the activity of his accomplishment. The frame will open with a panaramic view of where we are hunting and the weather conditions at the time. I’ll film the animal as it walks down it’s runway, his head dipping down to munch on some grass, and then the jerky motions as it looks about for danger. I’ll record the light of the sun as it reflects off the gleen of his horns and the impact of the bullet as it passes through it’s heart. Hopefully, it’ll drop dead in it’s tracks, but we’ll have a record of where the bullet hit in case it doesn’t. We’ll be able to tell from where it’s hit how long a track it’ll be to find the animal, and in which direction it headed. Even though we use “smokeless powder” doesn’t mean there isn’t any smoke, it just means it won’t take 10 seconds to clear. In those 10 seconds, a wounded animal can travel a long ways and if there isn’t any snow on the ground, or it doesn’t bleed much at impact, it could make a difference. My final shot will be of the smile on Doug’s face as he walks up to his trophy rack, and those long beautiful back-straps.
