Northern Wisconsin has always been a very special place for me. My parents were born here as were their parents and their parents before them. The land of green, gold, and blaze orange. I head to Wisconsin year after year to partake in the opening day of gun hunting season, the steady stream of headlights heading north past Minocqua tell me I ain't the only one. This is a ritual that has taken place in the Theiler family for almost a century and has been a standard in most northern Wisconsin families since statehood. My great grandfather hunted the same land well before my scentlock clothing and even before the first Winchester model 70 hit the market. Signs welcoming and wishing good luck to hunters can be found on almost every sign of commerce.

I start my stay at my families' posh "hunting condo" in Minocqua as we get in too late to make the drive to the hunting shack properly known as Amik Arms. Thursday before the opener we do some scounting and setup an Ameristep blind on the fringe of tag alder swamp. The next day we journey to the Twin Cities several hours away to pick up my wife and the boy. We get picked up at midnight by Tooter, my father's life long friend, at a locked gate bordering the Chequamegon National Forest.

We are hunting on private land that borders the national forest. The landscape is thick, dense, and lacks the desirable hunting traits one looks for with the sole purpose of hunting big bucks. Although there are big bucks found about and I did shoot a 9 pointer last year, one is not as likely to see them due to the dense cover and nocturnal nature of the whitetail beast. I am not up here for the trophy hunting. I am up here for the camaraderie, the land, the history, and to be a bit closer to the memories of the distant fathers of my father.

It's a good feeling to have my little man up here for his first trip out of Alaska. He has no idea about the pull of this area, but he will in time. As for the hunting we see four deer the entire three days of hunting fairly hard, three hours in the morning and three hours in the evening with day time strolls in between. I end up shooting a beautiful, rather big four year old doe and am very happy to be bringing a full cooler of venison back with me to Alaska.