Cottontails and Elephants; Live the Dream… 

Grandfather and Grandmother raised my Dad and his six brothers and sisters on 80 acres of rock-filled Minnesota farmland. Life was good and truly simple: get up and tend to the livestock; hitch up the two draft horses; be in the field by sunup; stay in the field ‘til dark; tend to the livestock; pump and carry water from the well to the house; have a leisurely dinner; get a good night’s sleep; do it again. Up ‘til my early teens—right up ‘til Grandpa died, he was doing it the same way, seven days a week—although maybe not pushing quite so hard on Sundays. That’s when he’d allow time to trim his beard while listening to the battery-operated radio after dinner.

I sometimes stayed on the farm in the summers, probably annoying Grandpa by running around all day looking for mice and snakes and insects—not really doing anything constructive, unless it was when the insects I was looking for were the potato beetles that Grandpa would sometimes pay me to pick from the garden: a nickel for a quart jar full—sometimes.

I sometimes stayed on the farm in the winters too, on the weekends. Winters in northwest Minnesota were really harsh. Even I as a young boy could see that there was work involved to get things done in the winter. To go and get water from the well, Grandpa—or sometimes Dad, when he would visit—would first have to break or shovel a path through last night’s snowfall for the hundred yards from the house to the barn, where the well was. Before pumping two pails full of water to carry back for the house, Grandpa would first have to be sure to break the ice on the stock tank, so the two draft horses and the one or two cows could drink. There was lots of other work in the winter.

Life was pretty full of work—but winter did bring the joy of hunting! For me, when I was first allowed to actively participate in any kind of hunting, it was cottontail rabbits in the winter. Most years, we had lots of cottontail rabbits. We had dogs, of course—to guard the farm, for hunting raccoon (which, in Minnesota, we’d do on the frozen cattail swamps where they slept, during daylight), and for companionship. Dogs needed to eat meat, so they’d get their share of the cottontails that we’d hunt. We’d eat the rest.

When I’d stay on the farm, I’d sleep in the great big room upstairs (not so big, when I went back 30 years later). My bed was against the east wall, and there was a window right at the head of my bed—and low enough that I could look right out of it as I would lie in the darkness. Before I blew out the kerosene lamp and looked out into the dark night ‘til I fell asleep, I’d sometimes read the one old Tarzan book that Grandpa had—bound in oilcloth as then, I still have it.

If it had been a winter day—and especially if it had been a day that had allowed for a little rabbit hunting, and especially if I’d read a few pages of the old Tarzan book, then when I’d lie in the dark and look out of my window to the east, I’d watch the two little blinking red lights way out in the distance.

I had asked Grandpa and Dad both about those two blinking red lights. It must have been true, since they both gave me the same answer: those were the eyes of a giant rhinoceros. Well, of course I knew that wasn’t true. But…between a day of sneaking around after cottontails and reading a few pages from the old Tarzan book—I did have an imagination. Maybe there was a huge rhinoceros out there….  I’d sleep—and I’d dream….

I’m sure that’s where my love of the woods and fresh air and hunting started. I still have his precious Colt Woodsman .22 that Dad would let me use—at first closely supervised—for  cottontails (in the winter, Dad taught me, if you really learned a hunter’s stealth, you could get close enough to consistently make headshots on cottontails with an open-sighted handgun). I still have the .22 single-shot rifle and the little 20-gauge pump shotgun that Dad gave me over those early years, moving from cottontails to squirrels, and then to partridge and pheasant.

I’m sure I really disappointed Dad—although he truly never said a discouraging word to me about it, with the several deer that I missed when he first started taking me deer hunting. Whitetails were not cottontails, and it took me many years to get my excitement under control when I was pursuing something as large and special as a whitetail. In fact, I managed to get through college, serve three years in the Navy, get married and have two daughters before I finally bagged a deer—a yearling doe at that. 50 years later, whitetail still excite me!

I never really, seriously thought I’d hunt in Africa. I dreamed about Africa when I finally closed my eyes after reading Grandpa’s Tarzan book and watching the blinking red rhinoceros eyes. I never really thought I’d actually go there. Even in my dreams, it didn’t enter my mind about going there; I just dreamed of an exotic place full of amazing and wonderful animals.

High school, college, marriage, children, military service, a job—life was busy. Life was easy, compared to what I began to realize Grandpa did to raise Dad and the other six kids on 80 acres of rock. But life was busy for me, too. I dabbled at hunting, finally starting to get the hang of deer hunting. I eventually actually hunted outside of Minnesota; that was a big step. Somewhere, I even started thinking about what it might be like to hunt in Africa. I didn’t actually imagine going to Africa myself, but I started thinking about what it might be like there.

I was in my thirties when friends of my age started to get seriously ill; at forty, people my age that I knew started dying—and Dad died, still young, after long years in the hard life of a baker, and without ever getting to pursue whatever might have been his dream. Maybe old age wasn’t a sure thing. Maybe that “some day” when I might actually go to Africa wasn’t a sure thing.

I was born into a hunting culture. I had learned to respect and appreciate nature. Actually, I loved it…was nuts about it! I was part of nature; I was a hunter. I was thrilled with the pursuit of whitetail deer…but I simply had to see Africa once in my lifetime. The progression was pretty logical.

So my wife and I went on our once-in-a-lifetime trip to Africa. We were thrilled!! I was surprised at how much hunting could be done on a reasonable budget. My beautiful elk-size kudu cost less than had any one of my several do-it-yourself trips to Colorado! The whole trip and all nine animals I shot cost less than some guys were spending on one guided elk hunt. It wasn’t cheap, but it was an incredible bargain—and best of all, it was a fantastic experience! Even my wife, a non-hunter, was hooked. We had actually hunted on The Dark Continent!

I still love hunting whitetail—I plan to hunt them in four states this year, and I look forward to the day when my grandsons are old enough for us to try to sneak up on a cottontail in the woods behind our house here in Oklahoma—but I’m so glad I took that first big step and went on that “once-in-a-lifetime” trip to Africa! I’ve since gone back many times, and I’ll have just returned from an elephant hunt as this goes to print.

So, what’s my point in all this? Simply: do it! Time is flying; live your dream! Do it now!

It doesn’t have to be Africa, but why not? Have you not thought about, maybe even dreamed about, hunting in Africa? It’s difficult for me to imagine a hunter who hasn’t allowed himself or herself to think about how wonderful it must be. It is wonderful! And it’s affordable! It may or may not be available to the hunter forever.

At our banquet in March, we have some extraordinary opportunities for you to hunt in Africa. Those of us who have been there more than once before will probably be particularly interested in a couple of the “bigger” African trips that will be available at this winter’s fundraiser. Those and several other trips will also be perfect for you if you’ve never been to Africa or want to see a new area and new species. We’ll have other US and international trips, too—some little ones, and some big ones.  A number of the trips that will be up for auction are described in this issue of Safari Trails. Do not assume that you’ll get these opportunities again.

This is your chance for something special for yourself, AND it’s your chance to do something vitally necessary for the health of our Oklahoma Chapter of SCI. [Yes, I am going to change gears here just a little bit.] I’m not just saying the same old line that “everyone” is “always” saying when I say that we need your help, and we need it now.  I’m not very good at this, but I feel it’s important to try to communicate our situation to you.

This is your organization, and I’m concerned for our immediate future. If we do not generate more enthusiasm—more participation, new people and more financial support, then, for one thing, this could be our last year at the Cowboy Hall of Fame. It’s simple economics. We all enjoy the little touch of class that our one-night-a-year fundraiser banquet provides. But it is a fundraiser. In fact, it’s our one significant fundraiser for the whole year!

Last March, our banquet/fundraiser netted less than minimum wage for the hours that the Directors (all unpaid volunteers, by the way) and others put into organizing it, and a single-digit-% return on the retail value of trips and merchandise we had to work with. With minor exception, that’s it for the year.

Please remember, after we send 30% of the proceeds from this event to SCI National—where our monies are used to fund the staff of lobbyists and biologists in Washington who work to ensure that our hunting rights are protected and that rules and regulations are based on science, not emotion; then the other 70% of what you contribute each year stays right here in Oklahoma—almost all of it going into projects that we do jointly with the Oklahoma Department of Wildlife Conservation—for Oklahoma hunters and for hunting here in Oklahoma.

So just exactly how can you help? Certainly, at the banquet in March, live your dream: bid often and bid generously on hunts and other items; you’ll get a good deal in any case, but remember that the basic reason we’re all involved is to support the organization that is foremost in preserving our right to hunt even here in Oklahoma, and foremost in ensuring that we have ample wildlife to hunt—even right here in Oklahoma.

When you do buy a hunt, earnestly try to take a friend (or friends) along with you. We need to give the donating outfitters some business, or they will not donate again. That’s already happened in many instances! We try to select good, proven hunts to offer at our fundraiser. You really need to send some business to the donors.

What else can you do, personally? Seriously encourage your hunting friends to join and get involved. It’s inexpensive, and it’s a big part of what preserves their right to hunt!  Explain that to your friends.  It should be an easy sell, almost a no-brainer. There is not a “someone else” who will take care of us. Each hunter in the State owes it to himself to be part of the solution. Remind your friends, wherever they live in Oklahoma, that this is one State-wide organization, and they owe it to themselves and their children to belong. Bring them to the banquet in March!

How else can we ensure that we accomplish our mission and have a nice banquet to go to one evening a year? We need financial support. Are you in a position to underwrite a function, perhaps a portion of the banquet itself? Is your boss at work a hunter who could somehow contribute? Do you know the head of a construction company, or of a company in the petroleum industry, or of whatever sector, who is himself or herself a hunter who might respond to a need for sponsors in our organization? Now is definitely the time.

In all of this, for yourself and for the organization, have fun! Enjoy life, dare to live your dream, don’t wait ‘til tomorrow, and zealously guard our hunting heritage for our children and grandchildren.

I hope to see you in March!
Mike Mistelske