Jess and the Outdoors

The Rain and the Rut

The sound of pouring rain on the tin roof of the cabin woke me long before my alarm did. A cold front had pressed through overnight, leaving the deer and my chances for hunting scattered.

My husband, Court, had strong doubts about deer hunting in the pouring rain. We would go back to bed for 30 minutes and see if it cleared up by then. Because of my work and ballet schedule (yes, it’s also Nutcracker season!), this would be my only chance to hunt at the family ranch this fall. I felt my time slipping away as the rain pelted the roof even harder.

Trail camera picture of a large buck with his head down grazing underneath a deer feeder — Just one of the camera card pictures we got with this deer; he was certainly fun to hope for!

We checked in every half hour at first. 5:30AM, still pouring. 6:00AM, still pouring. 6:30AM still pouring. We didn’t bother setting another alarm after that. Doubt crept into my mind as I settled back into a fitful sleep; my time was running out.

By lunchtime, the rain was still pouring all around us. My spirits had sunk deep into the mud that now squelched around my boots as we walked out to the truck to get some lunch.

When you’re feeling down, some small town café chicken and waffles on a rainy day really hit the spot. Even though we weren’t hunting like we had hoped, I still got to spend time in one of my favorite places with one of my favorite people, so that’s a major win.

As we started working our way back to the cabin, the rain had slowed to a chilly drizzle. On either side of the road, we watched deer plod through the mud, finally leaving the relative shelter of mesquite trees and brush.

We rushed into the cabin, suited up, and took a walk through the property. Though the rain had finally slowed down, the deer on the property were still hidden. Our walk made for the perfect opportunity to collect camera cards, though, so we could see if anything had actually ventured out into the rain this morning.

As expected, any pattern of behavior was immediately interrupted by the cold front that had blown in. My target nine was nowhere to be found; confirming our worst fears, the rain had pretty much scattered the reliable deer on the property.

There was nothing we could do but hope for the best!

Long before arriving, Court and I had already decided we would hunt a stand called Fiddler’s Green. After seeing the deer disappear from every stand, we figured it was still the best choice.

I carefully climbed into the stand with my .270, getting settled while Court closed the door, when the flash of white antlers caught the corner of my eye. I pointed just as a buck disappeared into some trees, poised to enter the open pasture in front of us.

“There’s a buck over there!” I whispered, hurriedly getting settled. The rain had finally stopped, so I wouldn’t waste an opportunity.

Sure enough, a mature 8-point buck with bright white antlers trotted out into the field. His nose and tongue tasted the air, his ears flicking in every direction searching for one thing, and one thing only; a hot doe. As he stood broadside, Court and I struggled to get a good look at this antlers, which would determine if he was a legal buck in Goliad county.

In Texas, there are many counties with antler restrictions put in place to help encourage deer to grow larger before they’re harvested. Typically, this means the inside spread needs to be 13″, or roughly just outside the ears.

With this deer’s sparky, excited ears dancing in every direction, there was no way to tell at first. He trotted around the feeder with his nose out in front of him like a puppy smelling out a treat. Every time he looked at us, his ears folded back.

Finally, he looked directly away from me and brought his ears forward. My shoulders slumped a little; I still couldn’t tell. At first glance, he appeared legal, but were his ears within the inside or outside spread?

Before either of us could make a determination, he scampered through the trees and out of view. As soon as the pasture stilled again, I couldn’t help but smile. In all my years of hunting so far, I’ve never experienced a deer rutting this much, and it made for an exciting moment.

I settled the rifle back down on the floor next to me. At the end of the day, it was always better to make the conservative choice than potentially make an illegal harvest. But Sparky, as I’ve dubbed this 8-point, would haunt me.

45 minutes later, the feeder went off in front of us. With the rain finally gone and the sound of flying corn echoing across the property, it wasn’t long before a small 10-point trotted down the road towards us. His little basket rack was far from legal, but I held onto hope that maybe his big brother would appear.

Small ten point buck standing underneath the feeder — Here is the little ten-pointer; it’s hard to tell from this angle, but he’s definitely too narrow in the spread.

Instead, a doe and a yearling carefully snuck into the field from behind us, both of them warily watching the young buck munch on corn. A gentle breeze wafted past the doe and straight into the face of the buck. Like a hunting dog zeroing in on a scent, his head shot up and he stared straight at the doe.

A mature doe and her yearling standing in a road and looking around at their surroundings

Corn forgotten, the young buck pranced through the tall grass towards her in full sneak. She danced away, clearly annoyed by his advances. When he got closer, he lapped at the air with his tongue and grunted loudly at the doe. Much to his dismay, she was not interested.

A whitetail buck bent over chasing a doe through the tall grass; the doe is looking back at him — He was really into this doe!

Eventually, they all circled back to the feeder and continued the dance of the rut as the sun slowly sank. I had never had the chance to see this kind of behavior and I was intrigued. You read about the rut and watch it in all the major hunting shows, but I had never had the opportunity to watch it live.

It’s one of the things I love most about hunting; getting to see into the wild world of these animals. Some of my favorite moments have been like these, catching a snapshot of what they must do and how they must live.

This is just a short snippet of the whole exchange, but we had so much fun watching these deer! If you listen, you can hear him grunting the whole time!

As we climbed out of the stand, I felt a new kind of calm slipping over me. Even though everything seemed to be going wrong with our hunting plans this weekend, we were still enjoying time in nature and experiencing deer in a way that most people never do.

A tiny voice in the back of my mind still whispered, “The big nine might be out there! He might come out tomorrow, he has to!”

I just wasn’t so sure of anything except that nothing was certain when it came to nature.

a trail camera picture of a large buck standing underneath a feeder with his head up looking around — The nine-pointer that haunted my dreams on this hunt

Food, Family, and Football

Thanksgiving has different meanings to many different people.

For me, it meant cool, autumn days spent in the quiet of my grandparents’ home on the North Hill of Prague, Oklahoma. Their little acreage was nestled between farmland and open pastures of quiet cattle grazing or basking in the sun. Grandma and Grandpa would have harvested a lot of vegetables from their large garden by now, and the leaves would gleam vibrant reds, glowing golds, and warm oranges.

After a busy morning of cooking in the kitchen, the house would quickly fill up with family from all over the area bringing their own dishes to set up for the feast. Over a delicious lunch made up of family recipes and traditions, the family would catch up; who moved where, who got a new job doing what, who just got married, who just had a kid (and pictures of said kid), who was just starting school where, etc.

All of these people from all over the country were brought together for one meal. And in that meal, they would bring their traditions and successes. They would bring Great Aunt’s sweet potato recipe, or make Great Great Grandma’s stuffing recipe. You couldn’t divert from Auntie’s carrots recipe, it just wouldn’t taste the same. In one meal, the past and present collided in a beautiful celebration of life and family.

A couple of years ago, Thanksgiving also took on a new meaning for me.

My husband, Court, and I brought wild turkey breast up for our small gathering during Thanksgiving of 2020. We had carefully smoked the day before, then brought it up in a cooler so that my family could experience wild turkey for the first time.

When we served it up on the big day, I couldn’t help the joy and pride that I felt as we all quickly devoured the turkey (kudos to my husband, he really outdid himself!). I remembered, maybe a week before, harvesting those turkeys with Court. They had wandered into a feeder where we were deer hunting, and in Texas, it was still rifle season for fall turkeys.

These turkeys would affectionately become known as the Matrix turkeys, but that’s a story for another time!

Since then, we have served up our harvests for other friends and family, too. We’ve made baked Redfish on the half shell, grilled venison backstrap, smoked trout, smoked venison roasts, grilled steaks, dove/duck jalapeno poppers, redfish throat poppers, and probably more that I can’t even remember.

Wild turkey tacos with cilantro, shredded cheese, on a tortilla

venison ossu bucco with a tomato sauce resting on discs of polenta

And each time we get to share these meals with people we care about, it feels like Thanksgiving all over again. People gathering over a meal that we made, field to table.

What I love about the outdoors industry is that this is a huge part of the culture. When you are blessed with such abundance, it’s hard not to want to share it.

It’s a beautiful thing to me that somewhere deep in our nature, next to the primitive desire and need to hunt our food, is also the desire to share and care for each other.

This year, I’ll wake up on Thanksgiving morning in the sleepy college town of Lawrence, Kansas. Our gathering will be smaller, but still full of love and food. We’ll start the cooking early in the morning, all of us chopping or stirring with one hand and gratefully sipping coffee from the other.

There will be venison on the menu from Texas, and plenty of traditional recipes from Oklahoma and Virginia. There will be football on tv until the Rockettes perform, and then serious discussions about the college football playoffs. And over an enormous holiday lunch, we’ll exchange smiles and catch up on everything that’s happened in the last year.

Some things change, but Thanksgiving will always be the same in my heart; food, family, and football.

First Blood: Part 3

Be sure to catch up on Part 1 and Part 2.

The woods around us were completely silent and still.

I avoided looking at the ground as much as I could while also scanning for any movement among the trees. The chilly October air was heavy with the colors of fall. Every sound was magnified in the stillness around us.

The tree stand was probably meant for one person to sit comfortably, but Court, my boyfriend, and I had to cuddle up close to fit. I didn’t really mind that part, honestly…

Every once in awhile, I would hear steps through the crispy leaves littering the ground. My heart would start to race, and I would tighten my grip on my rifle.

The steps would get closer… and closer… until they were right below us… and…

It was a squirrel.

To this day, I am amazed how a tiny squirrel can sound like a deer barreling through the woods.

Several squirrels later, the sun was starting to crawl towards the horizon. The familiar feeling of will we or won’t we began to set in; by now, I had accompanied Court on many bow hunts and learned that just because you’re hunting doesn’t mean you’ll see anything. This would be a lesson I learned even more when we moved to Texas.

We could still hunt at the shop if it didn’t happen this weekend, but there was a greater chance at a doe here in the woods. Our friend that owned the place only went out a few times a year, so the deer were mostly undisturbed, unlike the shop deer.

He had seen a lot of does passing through the area on trail cameras and felt confident that one of them would visit us this weekend.

Sure enough, I heard another squirrel barreling through the forest again. Except… this time, it sounded different… maybe a little quieter…

From our right, two large mature does wandered under the tree stand with a yearling straggling behind. My heart pounded harder than ever as Court helped me shift the rifle into a shooting position.

Every part of me shook; my hands, arms, shoulders, legs, ankles, feet, even my jaw shook. I fought to inhale any oxygen, to get my lungs to breathe. I just knew that those deer could hear my body malfunctioning as I attempted to calm myself.

I angled the rifle down towards the ground and saw only leaves. I kept angling it down, down, down… no use. The deer were so close to the tree that I couldn’t aim and rest the rifle on the tree stand.

“Can you see them in the scope?” Court whispered.

I gulped. “No, they’re too close, all I see is leaves…”

Court carefully put an arm around my waist and hoisted me up onto his lap so I could angle the gun further down. Suddenly, the scope was filled with brown fur. “Can you see them now?“ I was so breathless that I’m amazed he even heard my yes.

“Aim for the biggest one, the one in the middle.” I carefully shifted the scope to figure out which one was I was already looking at. Okay, move to the right, and there’s another one… move a little further, and there’s the yearling. Alright, swing it back to the first one.

I got the first doe back into my sites, but now she was quartering towards me. “Wait until she’s completely broadside…” I took the moment to attempt to control my breathing; it almost worked. Slowly, so slowly, she turned to face the other two deer.

“Whenever you’re ready, take the shot.”

I settled the crosshairs onto her shoulder, but with each squeeze of my lungs, the crosshairs jerked in a thousand different directions. I desperately sought the calm sensation that I felt immediately after stepping onto stage, the moment of no turning back. No matter how afraid you are, the moment you take that first step, you’ve accepted what comes next. There’s a peace in that moment, if only I could find it.

Somewhere in the periphery, Court was whispering encouragement again as the seconds ticked by. The doe stood completely still from the neck down as she munched peacefully on corn. It was now or never.

I forced the oxygen from my lungs and felt that moment of stillness at the very end of a deep exhale. My finger slowly squeezed the trigger in an achingly slow movement. I began to wonder if the rifle would go off at all, maybe…

BOOM!

I didn’t even recognize that the gun had gone off for a moment. I sat staring into the kicked up leaves through my scope where the doe had been as hell broke loose beneath us. The other two deer sped through the trees until they vanished.

My ears rang and my body shook violently as I slowly took note of what was happening around me. Court was congratulating me as he took the rifle from my hands, discharging the brass and pocketing it before putting the safety back on.

I felt dazed, as if the adrenaline in my body had taken my consciousness with it when it finally left. I barely remember following Court along a visible blood trail past a few trees and to the top of a hill.

At some point, I became vaguely aware that I was speaking; “did I make a good shot? Did I actually shoot her?” My supportive and loving mentor was smiling, reassuring me that it was a great hit.

Sure enough, she had just crested the hill not 100 yards from our tree stand when it ended for her. Looking back as an experienced hunter, I know it was as humane a shot as I could’ve hoped for.

Seeing the doe on the ground froze me in my tracks. Court wandered down a little ways to get to her, calling out some warnings of slick ground or rocks so I wouldn’t fall trying to follow. When I finally sunk to the ground next to her, I was filled with so many emotions that it’s hard to really articulate how I felt.

Shock. Accomplishment. Sorrow. Uncertainty. Fear. Compassion. Wonder. Guilt. I rested a tentative hand on the smooth fur.

I had taken a life. And I didn’t know how I felt about it.

The entire way home and into the night, I struggled to articulate for myself what I was feeling. Watching Court and our friend quarter out the deer for more processing the next day had confused me even more. If you’ve never seen an animal butchered for meat before, it can be pretty unsettling the first time.

I felt good about trying something new and for making it as quick for the doe as possible. I also felt guilty and unsure of even doing it in the first place, though. After learning from Court, I understood why he hunts; not to kill, but to be outdoors and to enjoy the sustenance that comes from the animals he harvests. But why should I hunt if he can do that? Why should I kill an animal?

Court must have sensed my uncertainty. I woke the next morning to the most heavenly smell wafting through the apartment from the kitchen. I trudged through the chilly hallway towards the delicious smell of spices and cooking eggs until I found him in the kitchen, already working on breakfast.

He smiled. “I’m making you a very special breakfast today.” I smiled and settled down on the couch, clicking through the channels for something to watch.

He handed me a plate of delicately scrambled eggs and small, red meat cutlets carefully seasoned and cooked up in butter. It smelled amazing. I sliced into the cutlet with a small bite of egg and took a bite.

Oh. My. Goodness.

I didn’t know what kind of steak this was after a quick taste, but it was so tender and flavorful. “Do you like it?” He asked with a sneaky smile.

“It’s so good!” I dug in a little faster.

“Good.” He pointed to the steak. “That is a tenderloin from your doe.”

I paused thoughtfully. “This is from the doe I… the doe I shot yesterday?” A new feeling was welling up inside of me as I considered what was happening; pride.

How many times had we eaten some kind of wild game and Court could remember the exact animal and hunting experience that it had come from? And now, as I ate the meat on my plate, I felt a spur of pride knowing that I had made this meal possible. Through my hard work and patience, this breakfast had happened.

What if the real reason that some people hunt is to do exactly this? To put good, healthy, all natural food on the table for the people they care about? To provide? I had never felt this way about anything before, and being able to provide for someone that I love felt good.

When I first considered the possibility of hunting, killing was the part I thought about the most. At that time, “hunting” was almost synonymous with “killing” in my mind. After that first experience, though, I’ve realized that hunting is something so much more.

You have to learn about and respect the animals that you’re hunting. You have to train and practice to be able to make an ethical lethal shot. And even when you finally see them, they may not even give you the chance to take a shot. But when the opportunity arrives, you have to do everything in your power to make the best shot that you can. The real work and reward begins after the shot, though. Processing the animal takes time and effort that you can almost taste when you finally get to enjoy the fruits of your labor with friends and family.

As I munched on my venison tenderloin that morning, I truly realized that hunting is about working with Mother Nature to provide for the people you love most.

jessica holding up a doe in the middle of the woods

First Blood: Part 2

girl holding rifle and cardboard deer in a field

If you haven’t yet, catch up on Part 1!

Everything I ever knew about myself was wrong.

I never wanted to be outside. Not to read, certainly not to dance, and definitely not to hunt or fish. I just didn’t want to get dirty, honestly. What was the point?

But after that first hunt, I had weathered crawling through the mud, sitting in the dirt, and waiting in the chilly September rain of West Virginia. And for some reason, I was desperate to do it all again.

What if the deer got closer this time?

What if a buck walked out?

What if the weather was calmer, the ground less muddy?

Would the fresh air be as soothing as I imagine?

And there was always the next question; what if Court shot a deer? How would I react?

I watched the hunting shows on the Outdoors Channel with him constantly, dancing around the real question I always had about hunting; how would I feel about the killing? How would I feel about seeing someone pull the trigger?

The question that started to take root, though was this; how would I feel pulling the trigger?

Could I stomach taking the life of a deer? Could I even do it, the physical action of squeezing the trigger? What would I think of myself? What would others think of me?

These questions started rattling around in my mind until I knew there was only way to find out; I would need to try it. To really try hunting for the first time.

Of course, my boyfriend (now husband), Court, was over the moon when I told him I wanted to try it. He proudly took on the role of my mentor and we started training right away; rifle season was only a few weeks away!

A few days later, we marched out to the same flat where we had been hunting and set up a target. Court had gone over where to aim and how to handle the gun thousands of time with me leading up to this, but holding a rifle and aiming at a target was something else.

This wasn’t my first time shooting a gun, not even a rifle, but it felt more important than ever that I master it. While thinking about the killing part of hunting, I had made up my mind that the only way I would feel better about it is making a clean, ethical shot. I would do everything in my power to make sure that the animal didn’t suffer.

I settled onto the little stool and braced the rifle on a small table. The youth model Remington 700 .243 felt surprisingly right in my hands as I settled my cheek against the stock. This was Court’s first hunting rifle growing up, and I prayed that some of his experience and luck with this rifle would carry over to me.

After a moment of carefully shifting the barrel of the rifle, my scope finally settled on a little cardboard buck about 50 yards away. I placed the crosshairs carefully behind the shoulder, as instructed.

I focused on calming my breathing… exhaling completely… then squeezing the trigger…

BOOM!

The rifle jumped in my hands and startled me. I looked at Court and just started laughing. Surely that shot was as terrible as it felt.

We started walking towards the little cardboard buck. “Did it surprise you when it went off?”

“Yes! Ugh, that was such a terrible shot.”

“Not necessarily, it’s good that it surprised you when it went off; that means you didn’t anticipate it and pull the shot. Look.” By now, we had reached the target and he pointed to a little hole a little ways behind the shoulder. That wasn’t so bad, I thought, surprised that I actually hit the thing.

“Let’s do a few more, and then we’ll try it a little further back.”

A few more rounds of shooting and scooting the target back, we packed it up for the day. My shots weren’t always perfect, but they tightened up the longer we shot and for once, I felt a little bit confident in my shooting skills.

I told Court so as we loaded into his truck and headed home. He smiled at me. “Good! Just remember, things will be different when you’re aiming at a deer.”

I gulped, not surprised. It was the difference between rehearsals and performances; no matter how much you practiced and rehearsed, the performance always felt different. Scarier, and maybe a little less controlled.

Oddly enough, my years of dance training might give me an edge as a hunter! I was used to dealing with adrenaline and controlling my breathing as I twirled across the stage and occasionally managed to hit some high notes in front of a crowd. Maybe, just maybe, is could do this…

I wouldn’t have to wonder for long; Court made a deal with a friend to go hunting at his place in a week. It was time to find out if I really had what it takes.

First Blood: Part 1

My body trembled as I settled the rifle in front of me. Even after years spent twirling precariously in pointe shoes on stage, I couldn’t remember feeling this much adrenaline pulsing through my veins.

The scope shook with my hands as I struggled to settle the crosshairs on the doe’s shoulder.

“Take your time; whenever you’re ready, exhale and squeeze the trigger.” My boyfriend (now husband), Court, whispered from behind me. Sitting on his lap in a tiny tree stand several feet off the ground wasn’t helping my nerves.

The old doe stood placidly below us, somehow unable to hear my heart thundering in my ears. Eventually, I managed to squeeze the air out of my lungs, settle the crosshairs where I wanted, and slowly squeeze my finger around the trigger…

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

This story actually started about two months before this single moment at the Planet Fitness in Bridgeport, West Virginia. I struggled along on my treadmill while next to me, Court ran casually to finish his daily 5K. On my tiny tv, I attempted to lose myself in an episode of South Park or something; it didn’t work.

“Deer season is coming up,” Court said, pointing to his screen. Somewhere in Kansas, the featured hunter on the Outdoor Channel was holding up a monstrous whitetail buck with antlers that could’ve passed for tree branches.

In all the time we had been together, I knew that hunting was a big part of his life and childhood. He was a passionate outdoorsman, and I certainly didn’t mind enjoying the venison he brought home from the field.

“That’s exciting!” I managed through my labored breathing.

He paused a moment, as if considering his next words. “What would you think about hunting with me? Just to try it, you don’t have to shoot or anything.”

I could feel my eyes widen. Me, out in the woods?

I didn’t like doing stuff outside. Ever. I grew up wearing pink satin, sequins, rhinestones, fluffy tulle, and shiny pointe shoes inside a very nicely climate controlled and clean dance studio. When I wasn’t doing ballet, I was curled up somewhere with a book inside.

This girl did not do outside.

I thought back to the dance performances, singing shows, and recitals he had watched me in without a single complaint. Not even once. If he could support me doing the thing I loved most, then I could at least try hunting. At the very least, it would be an informative and educational experience to help me get to know this man even better.

“Sure!” I managed. “Why not?” He immediately beamed at me and started telling me all about hunting and the bow season that was nearly upon us. The more he described hunting and everything that goes into preparation, practice, and then actually hunting, I felt a thrill of excitement. At the very least, my first hunting experience would be interesting.

September in West Virginia meant rain and cool weather. A gentle drizzle speckled my windshield as I pulled up the shop where he worked; our hunting area was further up the mountain away from the equipment and buildings. I sent a quick text; here.

While waiting, I quickly pulled on some hand-me-down camouflage over my dance clothes. Before braving the weather, I checked my phone and saw his response.

There’s a doe here; come up slowly, stay low, and stay as quiet as you can.

I left my phone in the car and started creeping up the hill. The rain had turned the hillside into a muddy mess, but I crawled low on my hands and knees to avoid detection. Normally, I avoided mud and dirt in general, but if I was going to hunt, I was really to try. Crawl through the mud; check.

By the time I crawled to the bush where Court waited, I was damp and covered in mud. I slowly settled myself onto the ground next to him, anxious to see this doe and… no doe.

“Where’s the doe?” I whispered.

“She wandered off a little while ago, sorry,” he whispered back. He handed me the range finder and showed me how to use it. My job today would be to range deer for him.

I settled onto the cold, damp ground as best as I could, carefully arranging the leaves in front of me so that I could see and range around them while remaining somewhat hidden. Sit in the rain on the ground in a bush; check.

“I’m sorry about the rain,” Court whispered. “I haven’t been able to get a blind yet, but maybe we can get one set up for next time.” His eyes betrayed his worry, and it occurred to me that he might be nervous about me being there, just like I was nervous the first time he came to watch me dance. “I hope you’re having fun.”

I smiled at him. “It’s definitely been an experience so far,” I whispered back.

Suddenly, three does wandered into the grass in front of us. They walked so carefully through the grass, picking their way with a delicate grace. Growing up in Kansas, I had seen a lot of deer; they’re literally everywhere.

But it wasn’t until I was sitting in that cold September rain that I really watched them. The way their ears flicked in each direction as they nibbled the grasses. The way their fluffy white tails waggled every once in awhile. Their deliberate and quiet steps through the tangle of grasses. The tinges of gray in their smooth brown fur. The watchfulness in their gleaming black eyes as they surveyed the quiet flat around them.

Court’s whisper stirred me from my reverie. “How far are they?” I startled a little at realizing how close they were. Like, I could see the finer details that made each doe unique. I slowly started to raise the range finder. They were getting closer, surely they were in bow range by now.

I watched in wonder as the deer wandered closer. There’s something about the absence of a barrier in between that makes them feel so much closer than the animals at the zoo or in the back yard. For just a moment, I felt like I was a part of their world.

The one closest to me froze and stared deep into my eyes. My entire body froze in response, a primitive reaction I had never felt before. Caught. As I stared into those dark eyes, I didn’t feel the rain drops on my cheek. I didn’t feel the cold, hard ground underneath me. I didn’t even feel the range finder in my shaking hand.

“Don’t move,” Court whispered from somewhere behind me.

The doe suddenly pawed at the ground, her eyes growing fiercer as she looked into mine. In that moment, I knew she had looked into my soul, and she didn’t like what she saw.

With one more huff at us, she turned on her hoof with all the sass of a hair flip and bounded away, her companions trailing closely behind her.

Suddenly, I felt the rain, the hard ground, and plastic range finder again. I turned to look at Court, both of our eyes wide at the encounter. “That was really cool,” I whispered.

The rain picked up, and we abandoned our mission for the day. As we walked down the muddy slope, I couldn’t shake the wonder of what I had just experienced. For just a moment, we were in a completely different world and my mind was working to make sense of everything that had just happened.

Almost sheepishly, Court asked, “so, what do you think; would you go again?”

I giggled at my damp, muddy clothes and rain spattered hair. Never in a million years did I think I would want to do this.

“Absolutely!” I said.

Smoked Speckled Trout

After trying this recipe on the rainbows we caught last summer, my husband and I knew we would have to try it with our own speckled trout.

But how would it taste? Though they’re all trout, those salty specks are just different from their rainbow cousins!

After months of going back and forth about it, we finally decided to try smoked speckled trout and ended up with some surprising results. But don’t take my word for it; check out the latest on my YouTube channel!

The Drought

Just when the fishing seemed like it was heating up for the summer, the fish disappeared.

Gone.

But where could they have gone? And why? We were dealing with unusual heat, a two month drought, and extremely low water levels in the Laguna.

But it just didn’t add up.

Over the course of three separate trips, my husband, his buddy, and I would brave the scorching weather and poor conditions in search of fish…

Check it out at the link below, and don’t forget to subscribe!

Coastal Fishing Ride or Die Gear: DSG Fish Edition!

With one glance at my Instagram profile, you might notice some recurring gear on the boat… and it’s not an accident!

I’ve been so blessed to be a ProStaffer for DSG Fish this summer and have so enjoyed getting to try some gear made by women for women. (Sorry to my dudes who tuned in for this post, but maybe keep in mind for the fishing ladies in your life? They would be impressed.)

I think most lady anglers have the same complaints about the majority of the selection of women’s fishing (and outdoors in general!) clothing on the market;

It doesn’t really fit! (It’s either way too big or way too small. Sigh.)
And if it does, it’s probably pink. (I don’t dislike pink, but we like other colors, too, y’all!)
General lack of utility. (Yes, I mean the pockets. WHO PUTS FAKE POCKETS ON HUNTING PANTS.)

Well.

I can honestly say that this company makes clothing that looks great and performs great. They thought of the feminine form when designing the clothes and the outdoors utility when choosing fabrics, prints, and features.

And yes, there are POCKETS!!

I did an entire video dedicated to trying on their summer line (you can watch that here), but that was before getting to actually wear them on a fishing trip. Here on the coast, the saltwater is especially brutal on fishing gear and has some unique requirements compared to our freshwater friends up North, so I wanted to share my ride or die picks with you!

1. Sydney Realtree Aspect™ Camo Shirt

girl holding a trout on a boat in shorts and a hat

This is hands down my FAVORITE shirt from the entire line! Like almost all of their fishing products, it has UPF 50+ for sun and heat protection. It’s also a super soft, lightweight material and the cut is super flattering.

I love this especially for fishing on the coast because of the sun and the heat. In the full sun on the hottest days yet this summer, it’s protected my skin and helped me to stay cool (and I’m really susceptible to the heat!).

It retails for $44.99 and has a wide variety of color options! I’m wearing a small in the Ocean Spray color; check it out here!

2. Leggings – UPF 30+

girl in fishing gear holding up redfish on a boat

These were my favorite bottoms that we got! They’re super lightweight, feature UPF 30+, and are super comfortable. (Plus, they make my legs look good lol…)

I love these for some of the same reasons I love the Sydney shirt, with the heat and sun protection always being #1 for me. But ladies they have POCKETS!! Like put a pair of pliers in your pocket-sized pockets! They also have a nifty little clip on the left hip that I like to use for fish rags, too.

They retail for $49.99, with a variety of colors available! I’m wearing a small in the Sea Foam Realtree Aspect™ Camo; check them out here!

3. Juniper Hooded Shirt

girl holding a fish in fishing gear on a boat

This one is very similar the Sydney shirt above, but it also features a hood and thumb holes; it has UPF 50+ and is noticeably thicker than the one above.

I like this one a lot for fishing on cooler days and in the early spring, though it does get a little hot for the really hot days that we’ve had lately! That being said, if you’re not into wearing gators or tend to forget yours, the hood is really nice for getting the sun off your neck! (Ask me how I know!)

This one retails for $49.99 and also comes in a lot of colors! I’m wearing a small in the Key West color (which is my favorite color scheme of them al in this line!); check it out here!

4. Jenny Dock Shorts

girl in fishing gear holding up a trout on a boat

These shorts are AMAZING!! I’ve never had real fishing/outdoors shorts before, and these are so incredible. The material is UPF 50+ and super lightweight, though not quite as stretchy as the leggings above.

What really made these special for me were the details. Besides a button and zipper, it has a drawstring so that if you have a bigger booty (like me!), you can make the waist actually fit. It also has great sized pockets and loops on the side for pliers, tackle, or a fishing rag apparently! I love them so much.

These retail for $49.99 and come in three different colors that coordinate well with other gear. I got a small in the taupe (and will probably snag a navy pair someday, too!); check it out here!

Keep in mind that these four items work best for where I’m located, here on the Gulf Coast way South in Texas; they have gear for all climates and temperatures available from sizes XX-Small to 3XL!

My overall impression of this entire line comes down to three words; fashion and function. FOR ONCE we get to wear fishing clothing that not only has utility, but also looks great and is feminine. I’m just so in-love!

But don’t just take my word for it, check out the entire line here!

Tight lines, y’all!

Babes on the Bay

What happens when you get me, my Mother-In-Law, and hubby’s Great Aunt on a boat together?

We catch a crap ton of fish.

My husband’s family has been on the water through the generations, and getting to spend any time on a boat with these ladies is always a treat!

So how many fish do you think we can catch in just a few hours? Check out the latest video on my YouTube channel, Jess in the Outdoors, to find out!

Back to the Laguna

Better late than never getting this shared to my blog, right?! It’s been a busy summer with lots of weekends full of sunlight, saltwater, and fishing.

With tournaments and client trips coming up soon, my Coast Guard Certified Captain husband set out with me for some pre-fishing early in the season to get an idea of what to expect on the water.

The effects of last year’s freeze on this year’s fish was still unknown, and it was anybody’s guess what we might find out there this season.

Either way, I think I can speak for both of us when I say that we were anxious to be back on the water doing what we do best.

You can catch the entire experience on my YouTube channel, Jess in the Outdoors!