Huntin' Hoist

11/27/2025

11/20/2025

It's opening day of firearm deer season in Northern Michigan. The second since I lost my dad last April. In this photo he's probably a decade younger than when he took me hunting for the first time.

I still remember following behind him, trying to step in his boot prints in the crunchy snow, trying my best to be quiet. We made our way through a low valley of tangled cedars and up onto a ridge of hardwoods, stopping at the edge of an old logging path. We had a couple hundred yards worth of a shooting lane to watch before the path bent away into the forest. We were watching westward into the wind and setting sun.

We have about two hours until dark, think you'll stay warm til then?

Yeah, I'm good. Hey Dad, I whispered. What kind of bird is that?

That's a chickadee.

How do you know?

It looks like a chickadee.

Oh. Okay. Dad, what kind of tree is this?

It's a maple.

How do you know?

See these leaves? They're maple leaves. Hey bud, let's try and be quiet and watch for deer, okay?

Okay, I whispered. It was cold and getting colder as the sun sat further into the trees.

After some time had passed. You see any deer out there yet?

Uhhh, no.

You sure?

He was hinting at something. I p*eled my eyes scanning the forest. After looking harder than I'd looked all evening, I thought I saw a flicker of movement through the trees on an opposite ridge, then another. 5 or 6 doe and yearlings silently walking through the trees. They were too far away to hear.

I see them! I whispered. Are you going to shoot one?!

No those ones are too far and it's too branchy. You see? There might be a buck following them though.

Okay. I whispered. We stood there still and quiet as they carefully walked through the forest, disappearing behind the draw of a hill out of sight.

Not long after it got too dark to see anymore.

Well, my dad said, while unchambering the rifle. I guess we'll head back to the truck. You want to lead the way?

Uhh, I don't know how. Do you know the way?

My Dad laughed, yeah buddy. I know the way. You know I won't always be here to get you back to the truck.

Don't worry though. You'll be big before you know it.

10/29/2025

Great information!

10/22/2025

10/22/2025

"The best camouflage pattern is called, 'Sit down and be quiet!" -Fred Bear

10/05/2025

My 13 year old son Reid gets caught on the trail cam at dusk as he leaves the stand after bow hunting creating a monochrome image in the low light!

06/24/2025

“Gear Rated”😀

In this week's episode of Gear or Gadget, we have Jared and Brian from the Habitat Podcast in studio to show us some of their favorite gear for deer hunting....

06/24/2025

Huntin’ Hoist in action😀

This video illustrates how we quickly get into the stand taking all gear in one trip. We use our fall protection lifeline and hunter's hoist.

06/24/2025

06/24/2025

The Huntin’ Hoist with Doyle’s Gear Cinch—silent and deadly😀

11/05/2024

My son Reid is 12; this year he picked up an old Bear bow out of my barn attic that a friend had given us years back. I didn’t think much of it because these are the types of things Reid does every day. He loves to make homemade bowstrings, knap arrowheads from glass or chert or shoot a bow he’s made or bought at a yard sale.

This year was different. At almost 13 years old he could now pull the old 55 pound bow back but only with great effort at first. He would practice during the day and report to me in the evenings, sometimes showing me his progress and how pulling the bow back had gotten easier. Next thing you know he had a tight group of arrows at 30 then 40 yards.

We had hunted together before but it was mostly cursory; he knew how to shoot his gun and bow but mostly he wanted to tag along. The season was upon us and Reid wanted to hunt. This Saturday I had taken a nap and Reid rousted me out of bed for the evening hunt. I made sure we didn’t sit in the stand too long. I drug my feet getting ready and cautioned him that we would only smell up the woods by arriving too early. We got into the old ladder stand I had placed years before at 5:30 p.m..

We had been in the stand half an hour when Reid quietly tapped my arm, just like I’d taught him, and whispered “20 yards”. I looked at him as if he was joking, which he often does. “It’s a buck” he said! I looked over my shoulder to see the buck just below us. You need to stand up, I whispered, and I stood with him. As if offering himself to a first time bow hunter the young buck suddenly turned uphill toward us and momentarily stood broadside. I could hear Reid shudder in excitement but he pulled back and instantly let an arrow fly. He sat down and whimpered in excitement then hid his face in his jacket and silently wept.

I had almost forgotten but my young son reminded me how bow hunters are born. This is why we hunt….