"Begin at the beginning and go on till you come to the end; then stop."- Lewis Carroll

I suppose I should take Mr. Carroll’s advice, and start at the beginning.

I was born and raised in southern New Jersey. When people think of New Jersey, they usually think of crumbling industry and runoff from New York City. They think of “shore towns”, tank top sporting, chain wearing Italian American youths who all seem to have a[n imaginary] uncle that in some obscure way is connected to the mafia.

People rarely picture open farmer’s fields, bordered by dense forests and tidal river water. That is, however, where I was born.

I spent a good portion of my childhood listening to the distinctive call of bobwhite quail, fishing marshes and lakes for Largemouth Bass and Crappie, and birdwatching. My road was a dead-end street that led to patchwork farmland, where my sister and I would take walks, collect empty shotgun shell hulls, and see how far we could make it down the railroad tracks before we would turn around and head back home. Pheasants and white tail deer would, on occasion, show up in our back yard, along with a variety of snakes that or Scottish terrier mix would quickly dispatch.

Heritage's Dairy, a South Jersey classic

The pseudo-Dakotan landscape I grew up with has long disappeared. The street where I grew up now leads to an NJAL baseball stadium, a large playground, and a gravel parking lot. Beyond the stadium, the seemingly endless farmer’s fields have been replaced by 55+ housing, golf courses, and community centers stretching all the to the Delaware River. Wild pheasants and bobwhites are currently extinct in our county. The wild of my childhood has been supplanted by proud South Philly natives, intent on turning all of the surrounding towns into another Philadelphia suburb.

You’ve heard this story before, I’m sure. The tragic thing about my story is the span of years in which this turnover occurred. At the time of my writing this I am 29 years old, not the grizzled old-timer that has seen enough years to justify the fields he grew up in becoming indistinguishably similar housing developments.

Just two towns away from where I spent my first weeks, I live with my wife in one of the last blue collar towns in our region. We have a park with an overfished trout-stocked lake, surrounded by a chain-link and barbed wire fence. No dogs are allowed in the 40-acre park, which is heavily patrolled by a ranger who treats visitors like unwelcome guests in her living room.

It’s not all bad, though. 30 Minutes south, there’s a hunting reserve and sporting clays range, where I’ve recently taken up shooting. I have never fired a shot at live game, but I intend to soon enough. More on that later…

There’s a saying; “When you can’t change your situation, change you attitude.” I propose that when you can change your situation to the benefit of your health and happiness, you should have the resolve to do so. My wife and I are childless, and in our mid and late 20’s. We are home owners, but besides that, we’re relatively unfettered.

So with our eyes set on the western horizon and ambitions to simplify and reconnect with nature, we are taking our first steps towards breaking away from the only state in which either of us ever lived.

This blog will document our move, my learning to shoot and bird hunt, results of fishing and hunting trips, and links to helpful websites and resources I’ve discovered. I hope you enjoy my musings, either as a fellow suburban sportsman, or as a lifelong outdoorsman willing to look at my experiences from a different perspective.

Best regards,

TSS