Gillian’s Post: A Special Place… Pleasant Hill Plantation

Posted by lowcountryhunting on October 20, 2008 | 5 Comments

A Special Place….Pleasant Hill Plantation

By Gillian Casstevens

As I joke with many about my neurotic obsessions and fears of the outdoors, I am reminded of the many riches my husband has given me. I am not talking about jewelry and material things (as some princesses would), but I am speaking of the gift of nature and its’ many beauties. Mike introduced me to these in the low country just a few miles south of Estill.

Mike was the manager of Pleasant Hill Plantation when I first met him. One of the first things I noticed and learned about Mike (other than his James Bond good looks), was this was a man who absolutely loved his job. The owner of Pleasant Hill, Dr. Harrison Peeples – fondly referred to as “Doc” – spent many hours telling Mike of his hopes and dreams for maintaining and enhancing the thousands of acres. Mike spent a lot of his time with Doc and his wife, “Miss Lib,” looking at their special place through their eyes, through their hopes, and envisioning their mental pictures of what it could be.
For Mike, it was much like being home. Often we would spend our Friday night date nights driving through the property, parking by the pond to enjoy the peace and tranquility of a spring night, or sitting quietly waiting and watching for feeding deer. On cool days (snake-safe days) we would load up Mike’s dog, Buck, and head out to walk in the woods as Buck would flush the deer out for our pleasure! Of course, “Tara Afta” was always a favorite place for me as I could just imagine a huge pre-civil war house sitting at the top of the row of majestic live oaks. It is a place you can sit and get lost in time.

Indeed, Mike taught me so much about nature and how it all works together. Things I never would have given thought to at all. Many nights I would ride with him to check on controlled burns or for him to check on beaver dams, deer feeders, gators in the pond, trespassers, you name it, we checked it! Mike was totally in sync with everything at Pleasant Hill. It would flourish in the spring under his landscaping skills year round, and it rested in the winter months only to lend its’ beauty to the many hunters who sat in a stand or went on a quail hunt.

Mike gave Pleasant Hill ten years of his life. During that time he never once took a vacation. The little weekend getaways we had were always filled with his worry of what might happen there while he was gone. He lived and breathed with the animals and forestry of that property. He treated that land with a respect I have seen in no other, that respect stemming from his kinship with Doc and his appreciation of nature found early in his childhood in North Carolina.

Doc fought bravely against his Alzheimer’s. Mike watched one of Hampton County’s most beloved physician and philanthropist decline rapidly and he stood firmly by his side to the end. Mike would take Doc for endless rides on the property and valued the time with this wise man. Doc died in May of 2006 and with his death many changes occurred in Mike. His zest was gone and replaced with a constant reminder of those visions Doc and Miss Lib had for such a “pleasant” place. Mike and I became engaged in June of 2006 and the first person he called after our girls was Miss Lib. I always thought he would propose to me at “Tara Afta,” but he took me to the park he helped build which was donated by the Peeples’ family and dedicated to Dr. Peeples prior to his death. I think it became apparent to all that Mike was making some big life- altering decisions and what was to come.

In my heart I knew Mike’s personal mission ended with Doc. Mike was proud of Pleasant Hill and truly lost his vision as Doc’s were laid to rest. After many weeks of his mental debating, Mike decided to leave the plantation. Although the decision was a huge one for him, I do not think it was hard for him to make. I think what was harder was watching the end of such a legacy.

Mike moved into town and it took some adjusting, but he finally was having fun again as he went to work for Wise Batten, Inc. and still gets to play outside all day and get paid for it! A few months after Mike’s departure, the home he lived in at Pleasant Hill burnt. A total loss and now there is no trace of what once stood as his home on that great big “pleasant” place.

I feel a deep sadness now when I drive by there as slow and sure, the images I have in my mind, flash quickly by. Mike’s two daughters basically grew up there and I can still see an 8-year old Faith flying by on a four wheeler with a huge smile plastered on her face. I am fortunate to have learned about nature and wildlife from Mike while visiting that glorious plantation. Doc and Miss Lib have truly left a beautiful legacy for their children and grandchildren while sharing such beauty with those lucky enough to visit that land.

The knowledge I gained through Mike is a gift I will always cherish, as much as Mike cherishes his time at Pleasant Hill. I must thank Doc and Miss Lib also as I fell in love not just with their plantation, but with their dedicated manager on one of those long drives amongst nature.

Rest in peace Doc and know your legacy lives on in more ways than one!

Gillian’s Post: The Truth About Camoflage

Posted by lowcountryhunting on October 6, 2008 | 9 Comments

The Truth About Camoflage

Over the past few years I have watched more than my fair share of hunting and wildlife programs on television with my husband. More often than not, I do not pay too much attention to them as I find watching an animal being shot a bit disturbing, maybe even sad. I am not a hunter. I cannot shoot an animal, unless of course I had to in order to save my own hide…or that of someone else. Regardless, I am not a fan of outdoor shows. But what I really find hysterical are all of the products on the market for hunters that are advertised on them! After numerous trips to Bass Pro and other outdoor sections of stores, I applaud the industry for such marketing and at the same time, laugh at the consumer.

Why is it a deer hunter must dress in camouflage to sit perched in a deer stand where nobody nor animal can see them anyway? Okay, I know the simple answer is to blend into your environment, but if deer are color blind (and how do we know this to be true anyway) how can they tell you are wearing olive drab or hot pink? I was running this all by my husband and he is the first to say, he does not wear camo to deer hunt. Matter of fact, I have his next hunting outfit already lined up for him…..Levi’s and a pastel pink polo shirt. After all, how many times have you seen a picture of a slain buck and the hunter NOT dressed in camo? Mike will be the first and I promise to post that picture! For that matter, I would like to challenge all the hunters to don a pink shirt and jeans and see how that works. Forget the expensive “scent-lock” suits, the doe urine, the expensive cammie-wear, and just try it. Cammie green is not the universal color….it just does not look good on everyone. I’m thinking our local hardware store, Wiggins & Son, should carry a pink polo line for serious hunters looking for a different approach!

When I sat in the stand last year during the rut and took those awesome pictures, I was not wearing camo…matter of fact, I had on a pair of nice khaki pants and a gorgeous maroon pullover, okay, they were a brand name but they were not camo! And I promise you, I was not wearing “eau de doe.” If I had been a hunter, I easily could have picked my trophy buck that night NOT wearing camo.
Another thing, what is the deal with a “shooter’s shirt?” Not to blow my own horn, but I am married to “One Shot” and soon after we began dating, Mike took me out to the long range to shoot. He was floored with my shooting skills and I often joke with him to take me to the range with him and the boys, however, I think he is worried I might show them all up! Although I do not know anything about hunting, I do know a few things about shooting. Each year at work I qualify with a 9mm, M16 and shotgun and that is really all the shooting I do. Somehow I manage quite well to qualify without wearing one of these “shooters’ shirts.” To rationalize this, I suppose for those hunters who make lots of shots (and miss), they might require the extra padding, but in my line of work you have to make the first shot count. I’m thinking in hunting this theory would also apply?

I was chatting with my hairdresser about this during my last “color enhancement” and she compared the whole hunting attire/fashion to us girls who shop for name brand clothing. She’s right, I should stop harping on this and be glad my husband doesn’t fuss at all the shopping I do, or road trips I take with my friends, but regardless of what I wear to go shopping, my trips out are always successful!
I challenge all of you hunters to find a nice pink polo, a nice fitting pair of jeans, and hit the stands. Let me know how it works for you and don’t forget to take a picture!!! After all, look what James Bond can do in a tuxedo! Oooolala!

Gillian’s Post: A Princess’s View From The Deer Stand

Posted by lowcountryhunting on September 8, 2008 | 13 Comments

My first time in a deer stand was two weeks before the season opened and my husband, Mike, wanted to take me out to just “look” as he would say. After my first walk in the woods with him, I was quite hesitant and adamant that I was not traipsing through the woods and was not really thrilled about sitting in the heat of early August. I just could not disappoint him and not go after holding fast to my dislike of walking in the woods, so I toughened up, put on a cool outfit and headed out to the deer stand with Mike.

Having never been in a deer stand, I had no expectations. Oh, I had some fears, and mainly it was of snakes and ticks, but I put on a brave face (and tons of insect repellent) and headed out. We rode the four wheeler out and walked the rest of the way in so as not to spook his white-tailed friends. I must say, when I saw the stand perched high up in the tree, I thought for sure I would die before I made the climb up. Those who know me know I am not fond of heights. I know, I know, I have a lot of quirks, but hey, remember, I’m the princess! Trying to stay quiet was pretty hard when I was sweating like I had sat in a sauna for hours and really felt like hyperventilating. Try having a panic attack and remaining quiet. Doesn’t work well!

Mike had me go up first and as I put my hand up to pull myself through this tiny opening, it landed right on a tree frog. Again, trying not to panic, I suppressed my scream only to go into full hyperventilation. Mike kept giving me “the look”…the same look my mother would give us kids during the priest’s (yes Father Underwood, that is why we were the most well behaved children…the look) Sunday sermons growing up. Once we got situated, I relaxed, got my breathing under control and for the first time began to absorb what was around me. I quickly went from feeling like a woman writhing and sweating through labor pains to feeling like a bird perched up high in a tree with nobody knowing I was there….until I had to sneeze. I thought Mike would pull out his knife and slit my throat if I dared sneeze one more time. Those of you who know Mike, know how seriously he takes his sport. God forbid I compromise the sanctity of his stand.

After the near passing out from hyperventilating passed, my sneezing settled down, all I had to do was try not to let the sweat pouring off of me make dripping sounds like a leaky faucet. I could only imagine what Mike would do. What was probably only 10 minutes felt like 30 to me, but then it started. The nudge on my arm from Mike and the pointing began. The deer were coming out to feed as I sat there totally in awe of what was before me. Sure, I had seen herds of antelope racing across plains before, met a bear outside of a bar in Glacier Park, Montana, met a rattlesnake up close and personal in Pima Canyon, Arizona, but never in my life had I saw such true forms of nature at its’ best. That evening we counted more than 60 deer come out to feed. The grace and beauty of these animals completely took me by surprise. Their interaction with one another was amazing to me….it was just like “Bambi” in real life. As a side note, my mother took me to see “Bambi” in the theater when I was quite young. I loved it until the fire scene, I cried hysterically and mom had to take us all out of the movie. To this day I have never seen the entire movie, nor did I buy it for my own child when she was young. Scarred me for life, but that is another blog all together!

I took a few pictures but soon found out the digital camera I had made too much noise and each time it chimed I again feared for my life. It was that “look” again…I never thought that “look” would ever scare me like those we got as kids in church, but that “look” from Mike….it ignites a very unsettling feeling in you. I thought for sure the end of our romance would come soon if I disappointed him in his environment. We spent hours just watching the deer frolic, eat, and socialize. It was quite relaxing and very refreshing to know such beauty exists all around us. To know our environment thrives from quality deer management and to actually see just what excites a hunter like Mike. All was right in the world.

Once all the deer left and the sun went down, only then could we retreat from our hiding perch and head back to civilization. Mike was excited, I was exhilarated, FINALLY, after a visit to his world……..and hey, no ticks!

Guest Post: Behind Every Good Hunter, Is An Incredible… Dog!

Posted by lowcountryhunting on August 25, 2008 | 13 Comments

Behind Every Good Hunter, Is an Incredible…………DOG!
By Gillian Casstevens

When I first met my husband, Mike, and after all the vital information was exchanged (kids, hometown, political views, and all that important stuff), Mike told me about his best friend, his dog. I wish I could write this with Buck lounging at my feet, but as life happens, Buck’s ended after a wonderful life, but a battle against cancer that just could not be won.

Mike bought Buck as a puppy and raised him with the same amount of love he has for his children. Matter of fact, I met Buck before I met his two daughters! My first encounter with Buck was much like “meeting the parents.” Only instead of getting eyeballed by mom, I got the total sniff treatment from Buck, along with a little drool. At the point I met Buck, he was the reigning “Legend of Pleasant Hill.” Any hunter who needed a deer tracked, Mike and Buck were hot in pursuit. I had the pleasure of watching Buck flush deer on a few walks and one time, I saw the dynamic duo in first responder mode. The phone rang, all I could hear was Mike and a lot of guy talk. We flew to the house, Mike ran to the safe and as soon as he pulled out his handgun, ol’ Buck was mounting the truck and ready to go to work. Buck was like a 6-year old kid on Christmas morning, rambunctious and wide-eyed. I stayed at the house and waited. Within an hour they were home. Now out of those 60 minutes, it only took Buck 15 to find the deer. The rest of the time spent was the storytelling and dragging the deer out of the woods. I am not sure who had the greater pleasure, Mike or Buck. Most likely Mike, as he had the bragging rights on Buck.

Buck’s chocolate coat had many war wounds, snake bite scars included, but he wore each and every one with pride. Buck and Mike were two in the same, best friends, two old men growing old together. Mike used to tell me every morning when he took Buck outside, they both had their own bush to “fertilize.” I could just see those two boys each morning walking out on the front porch, griping about being stiff, Mike grumbling and Buck making those low rumbly grouchy dog noises, and finally assuming their positions. Most people who know Mike, know that he has a morning ritual, besides the bush fertilizing. Mike heads to the local diner each and every morning for his guy talk and storytelling with the locals. Many of mornings, Buck rode along proudly sitting up front with Mike. He was like a little kid who just worshipped his Dad. I just never understood why Buck was not allowed a seat of his own in the diner with all the other fellas!

I do not know who has loved white-tailed deer more, Buck or Mike. Buck loved to chase deer and many times he would disappear for a day or two and head to Tye Branch where he met up with the many women in his life. After a day or so, Mike would head up to Tye Branch, call for Buck and as Mike tells it (each and every time), “the ol’ bastard could barely get in the truck, he was so worn out.” Months later, driving through Tye Branch, Mike would spot little chocolate colored Buck puppies. As Mike would say, “a damn good thing I don’t have to pay child support on all of Buck’s kids.” Buck’s longest adventure was 15 days. Nobody had seen him and there were just no signs of Buck coming home. Now Mike would never admit this, but he was one sad soul. We would ride all through Pleasant Hill looking for Buck and it got to the point, Mike would actually look for buzzards. We all worried he met up with the snake who did him in, wondered if he got snatched by a gator, or shot by a land owner. As the fears mounted, Mike’s spirit was slowly breaking. One evening, with all hopes of Buck’s return dwindling, Mike went outside and up stumbled Buck. Thin and weary, fresh wounds and all, he made it home! Never have I seen Mike happier, to include our wedding day. After that scare, Mike would load Buck up in the truck, drive him to Tye Branch and Mike would take a nap or read the newspaper while Buck spread his DNA amongst his groupies! As he got older, Mike had to load the old man up after his passionate episodes.

The hunting season Buck died in was a sad one for everyone, but more so for Mike. Though he did not realize it at the time, I noticed he just did not have the same zest for deer hunting. I would ask him if he was going hunting and he would have something else to do. In seasons past, we never saw Mike during hunting season until well after dark only after meeting up with his friends to share what they had seen. Buck’s partner was aching for his best buddy, but again, Mike would never admit it!

Every trophy in Mike’s “guy room” has a story which includes Buck. Every person in Mike’s life had the pleasure of knowing this legendary dog and the only person who could have loved Buck more was Mike’s daughter, Faith. Losing Buck was equivalent to losing her twin brother because if Faith was a dog, she would most certainly be Buck’s equal. “Faith-ful” and loyal until the end with a love for their Daddy like no other.

Though we all miss him, Buck’s best running buddy, a black Lab named Luke, remains in our home. Luke grew up on Pleasant Hill with Buck and Faith, along with a few other dogs who guarded the property. Though he is not the tracker Buck was, he has filled a void in all our hearts and has made our new family complete.

Coincidentally, Mike is back in the deer stands and continues to tell his stories, however, now that we are married and live in town, he does not fertilize the bushes in this yard! At least, I hope not!

Rest in peace our precious Buck……We know you are up there on that plantation where all bucks are trophies, and all shots are true…….and you are looking and waiting…..

Gillian’s Post: A Romantic Walk In The Woods? No Thanks!

A ROMANTIC WALK IN THE WOODS?  No thanks!

Posted by lowcountryhunting on September 8, 2008 | 13 Comments

by Gillian Casstevens

Those who know me well, know I am definitely not an outdoorsey type. Much to my husband’s dismay, I was not reared in the world of outdoors men activity. My father did not take us hunting as kids, as he was a career Air Force man and the most time we all had together was spent traveling and visiting all parts of this wonderful country and a few foreign lands. Learning about different cultures and visiting national monuments was at the top of our list of things to do. My sisters and I were the little princesses and in retrospect, quite pampered little royalty we were indeed. I never had to toil in the yard, never started a lawn mower (that was my brother, the Prince’s job), and certainly never sat down to a meal which included wild game. Never. I do not think my mother (our Queen Mother) would have allowed it in the castle to be quite honest.

Now some of you may think how sad that is…that we never had venison steak or rabbit stew. Never shot a turkey and dressed it for Thanksgiving. Nope. My mother being Assyrian, brought culture to our table in the form of stuffed grape leaves or lamb kabobs, but never deer kabobs, Bambi burgers or Peter Rabbit Stew. While living in Spain, we lived amongst the Spaniards and ate such delicacies as escargot, squid in its’ own ink, and steak tartar, but never wild game.

When I met my husband and we shared stories of how we both grew up, I quickly learned Mike and I were certainly not a “match made in heaven” when it came to hobbies and food. We could not have been more opposite! Mike grew up in the mountains of North Carolina and I grew up all over this country and in Spain. The closest I came to this type of hunting arena was living in Montana and going to college in Great Falls. Deer? Nope, more like ponies with racks! As a side note, I think the deer and wildlife in Montana are much smarter than our whitetails and reptiles here…..you just don’t see the unfortunate roadkills up north like you do here. (Tell me oh wise hunters, why is that?)
As Mike and I dated, I learned hunting was certainly his passion. Toiling in the fields during the hottest months of the year to plan and prepare his food plots, countless hours spent with his toys (guns), and always watching the activity of wildlife. Mike has tried numerous times to take me with him on his walks. Again, those who know me, know my feelings on walking in these woods. It’s not nice. It never ends in exhilaration or a beautiful experience. For me…it leaves me with elevated blood pressure, nervous twitching, lots of cursing, and usually a few ticks!

The first time Mike took me on a walk was during the first year we were dating. Now when I say a walk, I mean a five mile hike with Mike and his extremely long legs. Those of you who know Mike know he does nothing slow. Trust me….he is always in high speed mode. Mike was living at Pleasant Hill Plantation at the time and wanted me to walk through Tara (a gorgeous site). When he called me and asked me to drive out and meet him at Tara, I was thinking he had something romantic planned. Maybe a little wicker basket with some of that good Spanish food I spoke of, okay, cheez whiz and crackers then would have been fine, and a nice cold bottle of wine. Envisioning this, I picked a nice pair of Levi’s and a great blouse, did my makeup and hair, YES, a little perfume and set off for this little walk and anticipated romance.

I pulled up and Mike jumps out of his truck with just a pair of shorts on. No shirt, no shoes. At that point I should have feigned illness and bowed out like the princess I was taught to be, but I held on to that romantic vision as he handed me a bottle of water and said, “Come on, let’s go” as he strode away from me. Again, those who know me know that I have this obsessive fear of snakes. I do not care whether they are poisonous or not. I do not want to see one in a zoo, dead on the road, and especially up close and personal. Not knowing much about snakes I thought if they heard us coming they would certainly steer clear of our path. Mike assured me that we were fine and even pointed out we were on a dirt path and after all, he was barefooted.
After the first couple of miles, I was spent…a complete nervous wreck! I couldn’t look around me and enjoy the beauty because I was just too busy looking down for snakes. I bumped into Mike countless times, screamed at a poor defenseless bird I thought was a snake coming out of the brush, and missed the numerous deer Mike pointed out because I was so caught up worrying. I was drenched in sweat, my Levi’s were like leg insulators, my hair was wild and looking more like a Chia pet with each step, my makeup smeared, and quite frankly, I was one ticked off princess.

As my dad taught me, I kept my shoulders back, chin up and made it through the most awful walk of my life. Miles and miles of sweat and fear! Not the wine, crackers and cheese by far. Finally, seeing my Explorer just waiting for me was literally like my white knight in shining armor. Hopping up onto the cool leather seat, I cranked the a/c, wanted to flip Mike the good ol’ finger and head home. You can guarantee I didn’t yell that ol’ southern saying “I enjoyed it” as I left in a blaze of dust. At that time he had no idea just how close he came to being castrated…from my life, that is. I am sure he laughed all the way home. Me, I broke records getting to Estill without a ticket and dove into the shower. As I was scrubbing my grime away (melted makeup, sticky hair products, and great perfume – what a waste) I calmed down and realized he was just trying to be nice. I could not wait to get out of the shower and call him to apologize for my neurosis. That was until I felt what would become my new obsession……a tick! Yep, right behind my beautiful diamond earring he had given me for Christmas. A nasty little tick settling into my favorite spot to dab perfume….right behind my ear! Hearing my hysterical screams coming from the bathroom, my daughter (yet another princess) convinced me to settle down and not to call 911, however, she would not remove the bugger. I did.
Needless to say, I was done with walking in the country. Take me on a drive, love it, but this girl does not walk in the woods during warm weather. Put me in a deerstand and let me freeze, but just knowing it’s too cold for ticks or snakes warms me right up.

I have learned a lot about hunting, whitetail deer, gators, wild boar, and yes, even snakes and ticks. I have watched my share of hunting programs, read my share of hunting magazines, and recently even attended a Quality Deer Management function. I would say I am a supportive wife of all his endeavors, just don’t suggest a walk in the woods! I immediately start twitching!
To this day Mike still tries to get me to walk out in the woods with him to sneak up on a food plot, or to just walk around a pond, and I still refuse to even get out of the truck if the weather is right for ticks and snakes. However, I have become quite good at removing ticks from my husband’s body…..don’t worry honey, I’ll never tell, just quit asking me to walk in the woods when the temperature is above 65 degrees.