Dr. Rachel Livermore DVM

May 9th, 2015.

Rachel graduated from Iowa State University as a Doctor of Veterinary Medicine.

Since before I knew her, the dream was to become a veterinarian. For the last 10 years I have been a part of Rachel's life. This seems borderline impossible. I have done everything in my power to support my wife in fulfilling her dream. There have been moments when it seemed impossible with countless hours with piles of books, late nights, and lack of sleep. We were finally married shortly after she started vet school. In that time, I graduated from Iowa State with my degree in Forestry. Since then I have been working to support us while she continued her schooling.

This whole day seemed unreal. It seemed like there would be school forever and now its over.

The dream, now a reality.

My Never Ending Odyssey has a new chapter and it now includes my true 'vet wife'.

I never thought sitting through a commencement would be so difficult. Normally, I am figgity and unruly, but this meant more to me than I thought. Watching my wife walk that stage was the culmination of everything she has worked for and everything we have been through together.  With the support of family and friends, Rachel's dream has come true.

Congratulations Dr. Rachel Livermore!!!






After a few pics of the newly graduated 'vet wife' it was off to our grad party in the park. We catered food and had coolers of pop,(with a few beers thrown in). The tandum party with the Yeske's was a nice low key celebration. The girls had their cake and could bask in their accomplishment.

It was great to see the turnout from family and friends. Without them these girls would never have made it, and that is coming straight from the horse's mouth.

This chapter has come to an end as Rachel has accepted a job in Clark, SD. Things went from 0 to 60 and Rachel is scheduled to start on June 1st. We are packing our stuff and starting the transition.


Can't wait to start the next chapter with my 'Vet Wife'.




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Finally!!!

For whatever reason this post is difficult for me.
Rachel and I have been together our entire collegiate careers, including Rachel's seemingly unending tenure in veterinary school. This is the culmination of everything she has worked for and I am happy to be a part of it.

Friday evening we had the awards ceremony at Prairie Meadows in Des Moines. This event was for all of the outstanding students and their achievements. This was a wonderful venue and it was great to see Rachel in a sleek black dress. We don't get many chances to dress up and this was the perfect opportunity. The food was great and the booze was free; it didn't get much better than that.

 Sarah Hicke, Rachel Livermore, Lisa Yeske-Livermore, and Heather Vandewostine

 Photo Bomb!

 With Significant others

 Gents

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Last Iowa Turkey Season: Part 3

Sunday morning our alarms went off and we were greeted to a wonderful light-show to the southwest. A big storm was on the way but radar showed most of it would slip south. We stayed the course and made it out with rain gear any only some rain and a lot of lightning. We set up where Michael shoots his deer and buried ourselves into an old brush pile, which greeted us with a small weasel shortly after setting up.With the passing storm I wondered if it would stir up the birds and give us a shot at all. It would either make it the most epic morning ever, or shut things down completely. The roosters in the prairie behind us were all in for the day, but besides a few distant gobbles, it was a quiet morning. That small weasel returned to his brushpile, but with his mornings catch. We did manage to call a lone hen right into our set, but no beards in tow. We moved a farther down the fenceline in hopes that we would be closer to the birds we heard gobbling earlier. Again, we found another lone hen, but she stayed on the other side of the fence. She was literally feet behind us before I shifted, and that was all she wrote. We packed up and headed out in search of food.

The game plan after food was some run and gun on some other properties. We ran the gambles at Coleman's and there was not a peep. It was starting to get borderline too hot at this point so we went straight to Big Marsh. As we pulled into the parking lot we ran into guy whom was running ditches for asparagus earlier this morning. He was trying to reap a gobbler with a bow and couldn't close the deal. Told us there were three and pointed where they were headed. We collected our gear and booked it. We of course assumed we would never see these birds and inevitably we did. 100 yards in front of us, three gobblers. They had been run around all morning and had us pegged before we knew they were even there. Michael tried to sneak up on them with his strutter decoy, but they were long gone by the time he was at their last known location.

We found a spot in the timber right along the river and settled on each side of a giant honey locust. When we woke up 45 minutes later, in pools of our own sweat, there was a guy 50 yards in front of our decoys perusing the woods for morels...

After returning home we called it a weekend. It was already into the 80s and I figured Rachel would be happy with an early return home.

It was great to spend some time with Michael camping, hunting, and just hanging out. We had some fantastic hunts and encountered some cool things along the way. This may be my last turkey season in Iowa, but there is a hell of a lot more trouble Michael and I will find in the future.


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Last Iowa Turkey Season: Part 2

After heading home to clean up my bird and pack up my gear, I was headed to Dike to pair up with Michael and hit the road to Guttenburg. I had my tunes, a functioning car, and uninterrupted freedom. I waited for Michael to let me know he was done with school and his errands, so I stopped at the Dike Lake and pitched a crankbait for awhile.
I met Michael at his place and we packed our gear and headed out. With what time we had when we got there we scoped out his uncle's property, where he shot his 2nd season bird, and then headed to the public property where we would be camping for the night. The nauseating twisting and turning back roads led us the to bottom of a bluff with a small trout stream below it.
It was nirvana.

We had plenty of time before dark and I wanted to wet a line. Michael was pretty hell bent on scouting out turkeys so we planned on doing both. What ended up happening is I staying down at the creek while Michael scaled the hill to roost a bird. It took me all of 30 minutes to figure out there was only about 200 yards of accessible trout stream where we were. I caught two small trout and no pics as Michael was gone and I had no stringer to keep them.I figured I would just start a fire and set up camp while Michael was out doing his thing.

Can you guess where the keys were?

I started my first fire with magnesium and flint (in my backpack) and waited for Michael's return. The deal was he needed to back well before dark so we could set up camp. It was 7:45 and I was starting to worry. Of course, he has fallen down a ravine and has a broken leg because we broke the rules and separated.

OR

He found a few birds but was half a mile away and completely lost track of time......

It was 8:45 before he returned. It was now dark. We set up a quick tent, roasted some cheddar brats on the fire and enjoyed the cold settling into valley.

There is always a catch to these scenarios. A large pickup came down the small road at about 10:30 and parked next to the Tahoe. I was guessing DNR, but Michael speculated coon hunters. This time of year it seemed absurd, but sure enough, after about 15 minutes of fumbling around we here the baying dogs around the bend. No wonder there wasn't a bird within a half mile radius...
At some point during a trip to the truck, Michael's phone reception came in along with a few texts from his aunt and uncle. They were not kosher on the friend (me) hunting on their property and they would just assume that we not hunt their property at all this weekend....Well shit. Oh well we have a plan B. First, Sleep:


It was a restless night of sleep for a couple of reasons.
1-we were too stubborn to go back to the truck and find stuff for pillows so we used bog boots in their place
2- Again, stubbornness prevailed and we were cold, functional, but barely and
3- 10pm cheddar brats dipped in ash and chips with star crunch does not make for a wonderful dinner.
At 4am we got out of the tent, as we were pretty much already awake, took the tent down and packed up everything before heading to the truck for turkey gear. We scaled the hill, and then the next one, before stopping on a hillside to listen for gobbles. When we finally located one we were on foot. Almost a quarter mile, 75% of that going straight uphill, we set out decoys and sat against a large oak.
We had not been set for 5 minutes and the gobbler was on the ground and headed our way. At 90 yards he hung up. He had hens and a few jakes with him. He was going nowhere. After a half hour he and the group skirted outside of 100 yards and were gone.

We tried another set-up and it just wasn't producing anything. The only chance this time of year to put a bird in the dirt was to find them, and not wait for them to come to us.
Michael and I did some conversing while staring at our hike from the top of the hill, and it was decided we would try our luck at a trout and then just head back to Dike for the afternoon and evening.
The trout fishing was borderline pointless... Already five guys fishing the stretch and it was almost high noon. It was hot, bright, and the fish were pressured. We opted to get the hell out of dodge after a half hour.

Our arrival home was marred only by the fact that we were more exhausted than we both thought. The plan for an afternoon spot and stalk at Big Marsh was pushed aside for a hunting DVD Michael and I purchased at the Classic this year and a possible nap. We watched the first one and of course it was awesome so neither of us took a nap. Instead Michael ate twelve bowls of cereal before we made dinner.

Now, dinner was not the usual backstrap, or the more fitting turkey breast, but instead was the squirrel he and I harvested off of Coleman's last winter. With the help of some of my custom seasoning blend and a grill we were able to feast on beast.

If it were not for the pellets every other bite they would have been good. In all seriousness, they were poorly dressed, freezer burned, and they generally tasted like burnt dog shit. I promised Michael that they do indeed taste better fresh and that we would do it correctly another time.

After food we inevitably passed out on the couch while watching our second DVD.



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Last Iowa Turkey Season: Part 1

This spring season was a long time coming. Between work, shop projects, graduation, and trying to find a job, Rachel and I have been swamped. Things have just been major chaos and Rachel granted me a day off work and a weekend free to turkey hunt my brains out. Michael Parker and I planned a weekend down south at his uncle's property. The day before we were headed down we had to pull the plug as his uncle didn't want us down there that weekend. I sensed some weirdness when we were down for muzzle loader season and I figured this was going to happen. It was nice while it lasted but oh well.
The plans changed and he invited me to head up to his other Aunt and Uncle's place in Guttenburg. Michael still had school Friday morning so I figured I would just hunt around Ames in the morning. With it being 4th season already, I knew public was going to be difficult at best so I opted for a gamble and headed behind Nick and Lisa's place where I have spent so much time already.

I parked in my usual spot in front of the boat off of their driveway and stood in the grass and listened for a distant gobble.........Nothing.

I knew it was a gamble but at this stage I was a free man and needed to just sit in the cool dirt amongst the trees again. I headed down the logging road and crossed the creek. I stood at the confluence of the creeks and gave a couple of clucks on my mouth call.

GOBBLEGOBBLEGOBBLE!!!

He was at the head of the bend in the creek right at the top of the ridge, and he was close. I had gotten within 100 yards. I hopped the creek bank and set up my decoys as quickly as possible and got comfy against a large locust tree and downed oak.
Right at sun-up I look up and in a tree in front of me, a hen flies down and heads up the ridge behind me. The gobbler was on the opposite ridge and he would gobble every twenty minutes or so. After an hour and a half he finally moved. He was moving along the ridge closer to me. When he got to the point of the ridge he paced back and forth and gobbled; constantly. In the world of turkeys, it it much easier to persuade a bird uphill than it is down, so I know I was going to need a miracle to pull this off.
I caught movement along the side of the ridge opposite of me.

Damn.

It was a lone hen and she was having none of my clucks and yelps. She was going to keep her man on that side with her. Gobblers tend to like hens with a pulse.

At this point he was gobbling every 20 seconds. I knew the only way to get him to me was to piss her off. I clucked and yelped as loud, and obnoxious as possible. At this point he was double and triple gobbling at me and I could hear him scratching at the leaves at the top of the ridge. The hen would cluck every now and then and I knew it wasn't going to happen with her in the game.

Out of absolute nowhere, a coyote comes flying down the ridge behind me, crossing the creek and charges the hen and gobbler at the top of the opposite ridge. They both alarm putt and fly into an oak at the point of the ridge. This was my chance!

I threw everything I had at him with my mouth call. He gobbled like his life depended on it. The hen clucked and putted back at me and finally got frustrated enough that she flew down and headed back in the direction of Nick's place giving me a lone gobbler.

He hit the ground and headed straight down the point of the ridge. Beard swaying, and head all white, he hit the bottoms at about 60 yards.

GOBBLEGOBBLEGOBBLEGOBBLEGOBBLE!!!!

This bird was as hot as they get. He strutted back and forth pausing only to gobble until he was out of breath. He would spit, drum, and pivot back and forth. I gave him a cluck or two and he caught site of my decoys on my side of the creek.

At 45 yards he puffed up and gobbled right at my face. I couldn't handle it anymore. I could have waited for him to hop the creek and be in my set but I was a quivering mess so at 38 yards I let him have it.

BOOM!!!

My new shells damn near blew the gun out of my hands. With ears ringing I jumped up and ran at my bird. He was down for the count!!!

The woods were prime for pics.

 

He weighed in at 22.5 pounds with a 9.5" beard and 1" spurs.

While on the phone with Nick I searched out the secret tree for morel mushrooms and came up empty. It was still dry and they were not popping. This was all completely irrelevant as I managed to pull in a gobbler behind Nick's place, 4th season of my final turkey season in Iowa for potentially a long time. This was the greatest way to start my turkey season! The whole morning's event took almost three hours and my weekend had barely started!! With another tag to fill I was off to Guttenburg with Michael.



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