My dog is sporting a new collar this week. It’s about time. Since fall she’s been wearing a raggedy, faded-orange collar that became her day-to-day a year ago when her old one fell off on a walk by the river.
This new collar is a bright, hunter-orange unit I picked up at a service station in Wyoming while buying a fishing license. The store had previously maintained a small section of ammo and other hunting and fishing supplies but was now down to just a handful of items on an otherwise empty peg-board wall.
Soon to be replaced with stuff that sells, the cashier told me as I paid for my $1 clearance dog collar. Cheap, but it looks good on Jade. And it will make her even easier to see when we venture out into the long grass to hunt pheasant soon.
I’m not too reckless these days. I never was, really, though I was somewhat prone to making dumb decisions. I raced motocross when I was young. That was a dumb decision. The best motocrossers are the sort of folks who make lightning-fast decisions, then correct just as fast when things go wrong, while never giving their decisions a second thought.
I was the sort of motocross racer who liked to weigh all my options, reflecting on the worst possible outcomes, before I made a decision on the track.
In other words, I used to crash a lot and rarely won a race.
I’m not a reckless hunter. I’ve passed on a lot of shots over the years because they didn’t feel right. I remember once passing on a nice crossing shot while Mearns’ quail hunting because I could see my swing would pass near my old pal, the Outdoor Writer. Now if anyone deserved to be peppered by some stray No. 7s, it was that old pain in the butt. I didn’t want to spoil a good hunting trip with a run to the emergency room, however.
The fact is, I’m a safe guy to take hunting, but like all of us I’ve made a few mistakes in the field. Nothing serious, mind you. No accidental discharges and certainly no peppered companions, no matter their history of debauchery. I put that down mostly to the fact that I handle firearms as cautiously as I did my old motocross bike.
I still treat a firearm as the instrument of death it is.
So as the season begins, now’s a good time to remember these safety rules in the field.
• Treat a firearm as if it is loaded, always. I’m hyper vigilant about this. You should be too.
• Keep your finger off the trigger until ready to shoot. The Outdoor Writer was never in danger because I follow this one religiously, too.
• Identify your target and what is beyond it. This is done in the moment, but also, at least for what’s beyond it, throughout the day. Before you hunt a new area, ask yourself if there are any buildings nearby you need to consider. What about roads or other human-attracting features on the landscape? A well-developed sense of where you are and what’s beyond is safer and will help you stress less and focus more on hunting.
• The gun is always empty until you step out into the field. For the bird hunting I like to do, that means when we’re around the truck or in camp.
• Never cross a fence, jump a ditch or climb a tree with a loaded gun; don’t count on your safety.
One final thing: hunter orange is my favorite color, and it should be yours as well. I always wear plenty, no matter what the regs call for. Jade loves it too. She’s had an extra spring in her step since she received her shiny new safety gear.
Keeping my pup safe is Job 1 this time of year.