Relocations aren't easy for anyone. They are especially
tough, however, when the move means a devout outdoorsman must
relocate from the big woods of Northern Minnesota to a Central
Indiana bean and corn desert.
Nevertheless, that is exactly what Martha Weaver did ten
years ago.
In pursuit of her dream of being a television newscaster,
Martha left her childhood home in Anoka. After only a short
time in Michigan, her bright smile and unmistakable camera
presence were discovered by an ABC news affiliate in
Indianapolis, where she became the primetime evening
newscaster.
"I was excited for the opportunity, but knew Indianapolis
was going to be very different from the place I grew up," she
said. "After the move, I immediately missed my family and home
in Anoka, but really missed our cabin and recreational
property near Brainerd."
Though she was able to find a home on a heavily wooded
lot in Indianapolis, she knew it would never be the same as
her childhood home in Minnesota.
Just beyond her Indiana development lies a vast, flat and
nearly treeless agricultural landscape. In contrast, Martha's
family cabin near Brainerd sits in the middle of an expansive
chunk of almost uninterrupted wilderness.
Fishing, hunting and managing the environment to benefit
both game and non-game species was always a family affair for
the entire Weaver family, who all still count the outdoors
sports as an important part of their family's traditions and
values.
John Weaver, Martha's recently deceased father, was a
long time public servant who held a seat in the Minnesota
State Legislature. Throughout his life, he advocated good
environmental stewardship, and taught all of his children to
cultivate the land to benefit all of the creatures that called
it home. Before passing away, he even hosted Governor Polenti
on Minnesota's first opening day Governor's deer hunt.
Martha's brother, Jeff, still lives in Minnesota, where
he and his children hunt, fish and manage the family
wilderness area like they're on a mission.
All woods are created equal
Though Martha almost convinced herself that hunting and
fishing in the Hoosier state could never amount to the grand
experience available in Minnesota, she was determined to try
it, anyway.
So when I asked her to join me on a profile turkey hunt
for the Indianapolis Star newspaper, she immediately
accepted.
Martha didn't kill a turkey on that first Hoosier hunt,
but her experience challenged what she thought she knew about
the outdoors.
"I realized that I didn't have to be in a duck blind in
Minnesota to recapture my childhood love of the outdoors.
Watching the Southern Indiana turkey woods wake-up was as
inspiring as seeing the dawn break from the inside of a
Minnesota ice shanty," she said. "If you love the outdoors,
you love it the same everywhere."
That revelation led her to sample the fishing around
Indiana, and eventually, her first deer hunt
anywhere.
A double secret first hunt
Despite a very demanding schedule at the television
station, and our fruitless attempt at killing a turkey, I knew
Martha truly wanted to try deer hunting. When I asked,
however, I was a bit surprised by her initial hesitancy.
"I really want to go, but I can't get into a situation
where I have to do any heavy lifting on the hunt," she
said.
"OK. I can drag your deer out if that is what you are
asking," I responded in an inquisitive tone.
Then, in a low voice because she was on her work phone,
she explained that she was pregnant with her first child, but
that it was still a secret. If I agreed to help her out with
any heavy lifting or dragging, she saw no reason to miss the
hunt.
After a short predawn walk down a logging road, I led
Martha and her daughter-to-be to a 12 foot ladder stand that
overlooked hundreds of acres of logged-over woods and the
resultant briar patches. I had patterned a decent 120 class
buck in that spot just two days prior to the hunt, and there
were several new scrapes around the stand since I last exited
the area.
With a little patience and a little luck, Martha might
get a shot at her first deer.
I parted to hunt a stand one half mile down the logging
road, but left her with a radio so we could coordinate our
exit at the end of the day . By 11am no shotgun blasts had
come from her direction, so I conceded defeat, and called her
on the radio to arrange our exit.
In a disappointed tone, she said there were two does
hanging around her stand all morning, but no bucks. Since it
was the peak of the chasing phase of the Indiana rut, I told
her to search the heavy cover again for any suitors. She said
she thought the does were alone, so I climbed down from my
tree and headed her way.
As I turned the corner on the last 50 yards of trail
toward her position, I looked up and saw the two does looking
at me. I immediately glanced to their right, and there stood
the 120 class buck I patterned two days earlier. We were all
just standing there looking at each other, each one deciding
what his or her next move should be. Only 50 yards in the
distance sat Martha, 12 feet up a ladder stand, oblivious to
the standoff taking place just up-wind of her.
The buck made the first move and ran toward Martha's
position, dragging the two does with him. I didn't raise my
gun to shoot for safety reasons, and because I hoped Martha
would get a clean look at the buck. No shots rang out, and the
deer disappeared into the dense undergrowth they had probably
been lounging in all day.
"I knew that would happen!" Martha said as I trudged the
last few steps to her stand. "Still, that was exciting," she
added.
It would have been even more exciting to tell her
daughter that mom killed her first deer while carrying her,
but Martha said they shared other things that day of equal
importance.
"We both got to listen to the songbirds greet the dawn,
turkeys scratch their way across the forest floor, and a host
of other forest sounds that usually only hunters get to hear,"
she said.
As we headed toward the truck to grab a bite to eat,
Martha offered one final reflection about her first deer hunt
being in Indiana.
"Once I got settled into the stand in the middle of the
woods, I knew I was home, regardless of which state I was
sitting in. It's not so much about where you are, but instead,
what is in your heart."
