Note: Much like my motocross piece, this will be ongoing, especially since I haven't had a lot of time to write lately. At least my weeks-long episode of writer's block is over. This stuff is also for the memoir. Also, this time I won't hesitate to post some graphic images of my hunts, because I had a discussion with a few of my hunter buddies and they said I ought to expose people to that stuff. I'll make the pictures small, so it isn't too shocking.

Well over a century ago, a man named Theodore Roosevelt was elected president of the United States of America. Halfway through his two-term presidency, Roosevelt established over 230 million acres of public land for wildlife and wilderness, which hunters still hunt in today.

Roosevelt also put values on wild game, forcing hunters to pay for each animal they hunt. On top of that, many people inspired by Roosevelt's love for the wilderness and wildlife helped to protect and breed many North American big game animals back from the brink of extinction, including, but not limited to, North American bison, pronghorn, whitetail deer, and elk. Thanks to their efforts, there are now over 500,000 bison, 700,000 pronghorn, 30 million whitetail deer, and one million elk roaming the North American wilderness today, and their populations continue to grow.

Inspired by the beauty of the wilderness, love for animals, and the need to survive, I became a huntress myself. It was pretty difficult to do, considering neither of my parents or my grandparents are hunters, and I was born and raised in Denver. Only my grandpa on my dad's side was a hunter, but he was forced to stop hunting decades before I was born, due to some major health complications. But I was determined to hunt nevertheless. I had to get the help from distant relatives, who wanted nothing more than to see me hunt for my own food. I also had to seek help from organizations outside of my friends and family, because as healthy as I am, Cystic Fibrosis is just as unpredictable as hunting often is.

My distant relatives were educating me on hunting long before I even knew it. For as long as I can remember, my great-uncle-in-law AKA Uncle Courtney, has taught me as much as he could about the wilderness, wildlife, guns, horses, and hunting through story-telling. Uncle Courtney was a game warden. He retired a few years after I was born. However, he still goes hunting. He has horses specifically trained to be his pack horses during those days-long trips that take him deep into the uncharted wilderness of Colorado's central and northern Rocky Mountains.

I grew up riding his horses. I first started off on an old bay gelding called Pete. Pete was very gentle and almost bomb-proof, but uncle Courtney's other horse, Apache, wasn't so tame. When I rode Apache the first time, I was seven years old. Usually, I could toss a coat around Pete, and he wouldn't startle too bad. However, I learned the hard way that Apache was a different story. I tossed my coat onto the round pen fence, but that triggered Apache's bronc genes. Uncle Courtney said I held on for two of Apache's bucks, before being tossed, face first, into the sand. I was not wearing a helmet.

Luckily, I've always had strong bones, so I didn't suffer more than a few scrapes, bruises, and a couple of knocked-back baby teeth. But, I remember getting up after I got bucked off. I don't remember any pain, and I didn't even start crying until I realized my mouth was filling up with blood. Some lessons are best learned the hard way, and I haven't tossed any coats around any other horses since.

Uncle Courtney also had me shooting BB guns and practice bows ever since I could hold and aim those things. I was pretty proficient with both, especially the BB guns. I ended up taking to shooting a gun rather than drawing back a bow. I was exceptionally good at target practice, and I could beat almost anyone at it by the time I was ten years old. I had a good eye and an even better aim.

To further encourage me to hunt, uncle Courtney gave me a handful of animal hides, skulls, and feathers over the years. Throughout his time as a game warden, uncle Courtney seized many poached animal hides, skulls, and horns, and also found a lot of wild animal remains in the wilderness which he took home. Uncle Courtney has given me a coyote pelt, several pairs of deer antlers, a decent collection of animal skulls, and a young elk rack from his most recent successful elk hunt. Uncle Courtney gave me a handful of magazines and pocket field guides as well, and continues to encourage me to learn as much about the wilderness, wildlife, and hunting as possible. With the internet, that's been fairly easy. Even studying the taxidermy I own has helped me understand the wilderness and wildlife better.