So here's another fine harvest - this time from our first Gear Giveaway winner, Annette Shearer of Lexington, KY! It was one of those unlikely incidents in which she was about to pack it in, when all of a sudden... --K.H.

I have to admit that after 20 hours of hunting I was ready to give up on the stand I was in. Everyone else was getting a deer and I wasn't. I hunted the stand "one more time" and was disappointed. I was ready to leave at 8:30 in the morning. I was texting on my phone, making noise of all sorts and I put my gun on safety to get down out of the stand. I saw something out of the corner of my eye. I flipped my safety back off, and swung to the left and fired. It was a 9-pointer. And a fine one I might add. I was doing everything wrong "according to the hunting rules" but you always have to have your instincts. I've heard so many stories about getting a deer when you weren't expecting it, but this was my first. Anyone else have this experience? --A.S.

I doubt I'm the only one who considers hunting therapeutic. The quiet of pre-dawn, the solitude of a tree stand, the connection with nature, even the mental focus of the shooting range -- maybe we're not even consciously aware of the extent to which these elements help us, but I believe the benefits to our physical and mental health are very real.

I think a lot of it has to do with the shift in perspective. I'm the type of person who frets endlessly about everything. And I mean stupid things - someone cuts me off on the parkway, I lose a favorite pair of earrings, IKEA delivers the wrong color couch - it's laughable to think that any rational person would actually let these things get to them. But I'm a pro at needless worry.

Only a few things help to shake me free of those silly hangups. Music is a big one. The right song at the right time really sets me straight. Field time is another. On an average day, the quarter-inch grease stain the mechanic left on my driver's seat upholstery seems like a towering injustice that signals the end of all that is good and decent in this world. But on a day in the woods, well, I can think straight. When the tree I'm sitting under has survived a zillion years of storms, winters, floods, wars, and untold natural abuses, what does my Volkswagen upholstery matter?

For me, the perspective shift is a kind of therapy through liberation. All those draining little worries just fall away, and I'm reminded of what's actually important. And it's not unusual that -- upon my clear-headed return to civilization -- I'm relaxed enough to remember where I left those earrings after all. --K.H.

     I have some bad news. I just got an email from reader Wanda Hyleman (our own 'Southwoodshunter'), who wanted me to explain to everyone on the blog why she hadn't been posting recently. I was beyond sorry to hear that her oldest son, Jerami Willard, had passed away Monday at the age of 29. It was very unexpected.
     Wanda asked that, in addition to sharing that news, I post a link to the funeral home website , where anyone who's interested in knowing about Jerami could look at photos and read a little about him.
     On behalf of the blog readers, I'd like to express my deepest condolences to Wanda and her family, and my sincere hope that at some point, getting back in the woods can be a source of solace. --K.H.

Speaking of season firsts, our own Tracy just sent me this pic and story about her first bow buck! She seemed a little reluctant to show off her success, but I'm perfectly happy to do the bragging for her. She makes some interesting points in her story on her feelings about walking up to a dead animal - and I couldn´t agree more with what she says below on the subject. It can be a hard feeling to experience - but hard for the right reasons. Anyway, here's the tale of triumph Tracy shared in her email. -K.H.

Finally! After roughly 60 hours in a treestand over three weeks, I got my first bow deer. I had seen this  guy several times over the three weeks, and earlier during the day that I harvested him he outsmarted me when I tried to anticipate his next move. I was completely dumbfounded when he casually walked out of the treeline, alone, about half an hour before legal end time for the evening. He started to walk in the other direction so I pretty desperately used a bleat can and a voice grunt. He turned and walked straight to me and presented a shot. His casual attitude was so uncharacteristic of the deer that I had been seeing that it still seems a little surreal.

I did discover something interesting - I don´t like walking up to the animal. It makes me feel sad in a way. Last year I got my first deer during my first deer season and had the same ambivalence about actually finding the guy, and I figured it was inexperience. This time, however, was the same. I love everything else - the preparation, the anticipation, making the shot, tracking, and I don´t even mind field dressing and processing the meat. But that first glimpse of the downed deer is just really tough. After some reflection, I kind of hope I never get over that feeling because it stirs in me a great respect for the animal - something I don´t EVER want to become blase about.

So, I've been getting some great email updates from readers harvesting thier first animals - the stories are really fun to hear. Laura Benjamin got a very nice Thanksgiving present this year with her first muley! She took him on a hunt near Craig, Colo., and she writes about him, her first elk, and the reasons she started hunting in the first place (despite the fact that she's a self-described "girly girl") at her blog . Just to give you an idea, here's what she says about her initial interest in the sport:

I believe we've done ourselves a disservice by distancing ourselves from the lives our grandparents and parents lived when they had to put food on the table the old fashioned way. Nowadays if the electricity goes out and the grocery store isn't restocked, most people are frantic. We've lost the ability to be self-sufficient. We rely too much on electronic and digital gadgets to make our lives comfortable. Hunting is a way to engage that self-sufficient gene.

Just before that email from Laura, reader NorCal Cazadora wrote about her first pheasant, which she took near Sacramento, Calif., and talks about on her own blog . I, for one, got a kick out of her cat's reaction to the kill:

The best part was when I got home. I spotted our outdoor cat, Giblet, who's been known to take out scrub jays for kicks, and I thought, Hey, she'll LOVE this! So I brought it out to her to show off MY hunting. And she absolutely freaked out. Wouldn't go near the bird at all. Looked on from about five feet away. Seemed relieved when I took it back in the house. HA! You've got to love the role reversal, dontcha? Isn't it usually the cat who wants to show off the caracass to the human, and the human who wants nothing to do with it?

Congrats to all who've gotten their first, second, or any number of harvests so far this season. For anyone still with an empty freezer, congrats just on being out there - it's the doing not the getting that makes the experience worthwhile. --K.H.

     Here's another great discussion topic idea that I can't take credit for! Laura Bell just emailed me this heartbreaking story of a buck that entered her life--and left it just as quick. She figured, and I agree, that most of us have had near misses like this at one point or another. Here's what Laura had to say about hers--complete with a moral at the end! --K.H.

     I'm sure there's been a few times where we've all had close encounters with an animal but just couldn't seal the deal. I remember one Ohio Gun Deer Season a couple years ago. I wasn't seeing anything and my Dad went to put on a drive for me. He was going to walk through a chunk of grape vines and brush, just to see if anything was laying tight in it. My dad walked off and I stood ready for action. Not long after he left I heard the brush cracking and small grunts. A second later a doe trots out, and not 30 yards behind and hot on her heels is a nice, I mean nice, buck! There's also a smaller buck, but my gun is up and on the big one. I try and pick him out, not wanting to shoot the doe or little buck or the trees they're passing behind. I shoot and miss two times, but finally as they pass an opening I let my last shot go and the big boy falls. Yes! He doesn't move an inch and I just stand there watching him, beautiful buck he is. I excitedly call my dad on the radio and tell him I've got a big one down and to hurry up through the drive and come see him! Just then the buck jumps up! I flip my safety off and go to take another shot at him...Click! I forgot to reload. In my excitement I never reloaded and just called my dad. I quickly dig in my pockets for another load and all I can do is watch him run away. I can see he's staggering, but heck he's sure taking off good enough! I'm all reloaded now, but he's gone. My dad arrived and found no deer... I had to tell him he got up and ran away. We start the track job. We had good blood and hair, and dirt turned up from where he fell. He made it down to a creek and that was the last we saw of blood. He disappeared from there. We searched for days, nothing, no trace of him, dead or alive. I was sick over that, but a valuable lesson came from it. Bragging comes after reloading...and tag soup isn't all that bad...  --Laura Bell

     It's always great to see a kid in the field. At various points, Field & Stream has celebrated that fact with different stories on introducing young people to the sport. The most ambitious effort was in the December 2005 issue, when an entire cover package was devoted to kids and hunting -- it was full of stories about kids, expert opinions on dealing with topics such as morals and death, and a poll in which kids shared their views on field sports.

     In Field & Stream's current December issue, there's a different kind of coverage on kids -- although, this time it's not about tips and advice. It's portfolio called Young Blood by photographer Erica Larsen. Erica is a fantastic person, who's infinitely curious about human nature, and endlessly respectful of all field sports. She spent over a year going on hunts with kids and capturing images of what young passion for hunting is all about.

    Whether you have kids or not, it's impossible not to be touched by the images Erica collected--and encouraged about the future of our sport. There are almost 40 images at the link above, so when you have a few minutes, or need a little pick me up, feel free to click through them -- it's a very special photo essay on a topic that's near and dear to our hearts. --K.H.

     Shannon Schwenke of Grand Rapids, MI! I'd mentioned that last week was the end of the giveaway before it went on hiatus, and that I'd wanted to go out with a bang by announcing more than one winner for the weekend. I didn't hear back from Shannon right away because it turns out she doesn't have internet access on the weekends because she and her husband are still remodeling their spare room. They're still remodeling their spare room because they keep getting sidetracked waterfowling -- at least it's a great excuse!
     Anyway, Shannon will be receiving a pair of Foxy Huntress signature print camouflage pants. They're a heavy-duty field pant that I was sorry I couldn't keep for myself!
     Okay, so now the giveaway is officially going on a brief hiatus -- for real this time. Hopefully it won't be long before we're back to finding good homes for good gear. --K.H.

     Is it going as well as this photo? A toledoblade.com story earlier this week talked to Vicki Mountz, head of the information and education section of the Ohio Division of Wildlife, and proud new owner of a whole lot of venison.
      Her comments about scent reminded me of our conversation a little while back. The story states: 

Mountz said she does not wear a special scent-locking suit and was not using a ground attractant or cover-scent. But she carefully washes her hunting clothes in nonscent soap, showers with nonscent soap, and stores her clothes in a plastic bin with apples and acorns.

     So we know how things are going in Ohio, but how are things going with you? Sightings? Near hits? Meat for the freezer? At the very least, maybe you’ve gotten a lot of reading done in the blind. Feel free to send stories, updates—even your feelings about crossbows (apparently, that's what Vicki used).

    And if you're lucky enough to have a recent harvest to show off, I’m happy to brag on your behalf. Email me a photo and I’ll put it up on the blog. Happy Hunting! —K.H.

      So here’s a topic suggestion from reader Wanda Hyleman. She sent it recently, and I thought it was a good one.
      But before I let Wanda take the wheel, I wanted to let you know that I was hoping to name another gear recipient this weekend, but unfortunately haven’t yet heard back from the winner I’d chosen! Hopefully I’ll hear soon, and when I do, she’ll be the last winner before the giveaway goes on a break.
      Anyway, back to Wanda’s topic. She included a number of thoughts with it, so I’ll just get out of the way and let her spark the discussion. –K.H.
      
      I was wondering about your most enlightening moment in the woods—sort of spiritual. When you experienced something so eye opening that it made you realize there is no place in the world you would rather be but in the woods enjoying nature.
      I was deer hunting once in an open field, and decided to sit in a brush pile. While there I saw a huge flock of blackbirds landing in the far end of the field, and they all would fly up together and go back down. They did this several times, and as they got closer to me, I was thinking, I know they have to see me. But they didn't, and as they flew over me and I could hear the sounds of their wings, it gave me such chills. Mind you this was a flock of about 200 birds, and they were right over my head—I’ll get chills even now when I think of it.
      Don't know why it came over me so like it did. It just made me realize lots of things that day—like I would have never experienced that had I not been in the great outdoors, had I not been open enough to accept the invite to hunt, had I not been brave enough to go alone the many dark mornings that I have gone. I feel such peace walking to my stand in the dark. I guess that's what it's like to be at peace with yourself. I have chosen that hunting is now a way of life for me and I surely would not have it any other way.
      I was just wondering if anyone else had experienced anything like that in the woods. -Wanda Hyleman