After 60: Behind the Wheel and in the Wild

A Trunk Backpack That Protects Senior Drivers: What to Carry and Why It Matters

how abouFor many older adults, driving represents far more than transportation. It’s autonomy—medical appointments kept, groceries purchased on one’s own schedule, family visited without asking for a ride. But the reality of aging, changing weather, and unpredictable road conditions means a minor inconvenience (a dead battery, a flat tire, a wrong turn when the phone dies) can escalate faster for a senior than for a younger driver. Preparedness is not paranoia; it is a practical form of self-respect.

A “trunk backpack” emergency kit—kept in the trunk and easy to carry if you must leave the car—should be built around one simple goal: reduce risk during the most common roadside problems while supporting the needs that become more critical with age: warmth, hydration, medication continuity, clear communication, and visibility to other drivers. Major safety and preparedness organizations consistently recommend core items such as first aid supplies, warning devices, flashlights, phone power, water/food, blankets, and basic vehicle help like jumper cables or traction aids (American Red Cross, 2025; Ready.gov, 2025; National Highway Traffic Safety Administration [NHTSA], n.d.). What changes for seniors is how we prioritize and package those basics so they’re usable under stress.

Below are ten essentials—designed specifically for older drivers—that align with verifiable guidance while accounting for real-world senior needs.

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1) Medication Continuity: The Senior “Must-Have”

The most important senior-specific addition to any car kit is a medication backup strategy. In an emergency—storm closures, detours, breakdowns, evacuation—refilling prescriptions may be delayed. Preparedness guidance emphasizes keeping necessary medicines as part of travel readiness (NHTSA, n.d.; Ready.gov, 2025). Public health guidance also recommends maintaining an up-to-date medication list and planning ahead with your doctor or pharmacist for an emergency supply (Centers for Disease Control and Prevention [CDC], 2024a; Ready.gov, 2025).

What to pack:

• A small, clearly labeled pouch with a limited emergency supply of critical medications (only if safe and permitted by your prescribing plan).

• A printed prescription list (drug name, dose, frequency, prescriber, pharmacy).

• If any medicines require cooling, include a plan (small cooler + cold packs as appropriate), as health preparedness guidance notes refrigeration needs for some medications (CDC, 2024a).

For seniors, this is not optional. It’s the difference between discomfort and a medical crisis.

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2) An “ICE” Card and Medical Information in Large Print

If a senior is disoriented, injured, or simply stressed, quick access to key information helps responders and good Samaritans. Keeping a large-print “In Case of Emergency” (ICE) card is a low-tech safeguard that complements a phone’s medical ID. CDC materials encourage older adults to track medications and personal health information consistently (CDC, 2024b; CDC, 2024c).

Include:

• Emergency contacts

• Allergies

• Medical conditions

• Current medications (or a pointer: “Medication list in pouch”)

• Primary doctor and pharmacy

Laminate it or put it in a waterproof sleeve.

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3) Power and Communication: Charger + Backup Battery

A charged phone is not just convenience—it’s navigation, weather alerts, roadside assistance, and family contact. Emergency kit guidance repeatedly highlights the importance of a phone charger/power source (American Red Cross, 2025; Ready.gov, 2025; NHTSA, n.d.). Seniors should assume that a breakdown might drain a phone faster than expected (cold weather, repeated calls, maps running).

Best practice for seniors:

• A car charger that stays in the backpack

• A power bank with a short, pre-attached cable (less fumbling)

• A reminder to recharge the power bank monthly

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4) Visibility: Reflective Vest + Warning Triangles (or Flares)

Many roadside deaths occur not from the original mechanical issue but from a secondary collision—drivers not seeing a stopped vehicle in time. Readiness guidance for car kits includes warning devices like reflective triangles or flares (Ready.gov, 2025; NHTSA, n.d.), and the Red Cross similarly emphasizes visibility items as core kit components (American Red Cross, 2025).

For seniors—who may move more slowly—being visible matters even more.

Pack:

• A high-visibility reflective vest

• Reflective warning triangles (often safer and longer-lasting than flares)

• Optional: a small LED beacon

If you can safely remain in the vehicle while waiting for help, do so. But if you must exit, visibility is protection.

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5) Light You Can Actually Use: Flashlight or Headlamp

Emergency guidance consistently includes a flashlight (American Red Cross, 2025; Ready.gov, 2025; NHTSA, n.d.). For seniors, usability is the key: arthritis, reduced grip strength, and low-light vision changes mean the tool must be simple.

Choose:

• A bright LED flashlight with a single on/off switch, or

• A headlamp (hands-free for tire checks)

Include spare batteries or choose rechargeable, but keep it maintained.

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6) Warmth and Weather Protection: Blanket + Simple Layers

Cold stress can become dangerous quickly, and seniors often feel temperature shifts more intensely. Preparedness sources frequently recommend blankets and warm items in vehicle kits, particularly for winter travel (American Red Cross, 2025; NHTSA, n.d.; Ready.gov, 2025).

Pack:

• A compact emergency blanket (Mylar) plus a small fleece throw

• A lightweight rain poncho

• Optional: hand warmers (especially helpful if circulation is an issue)

Warmth is not just comfort—it helps prevent shock and hypothermia.

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7) Water and Easy-Open Food

Being stuck for hours happens: traffic closures, storms, dead batteries, accidents ahead. The Red Cross recommends water and non-perishable food as core kit items (American Red Cross, 2025), and federal safety guidance similarly includes water/food among emergency travel supplies (NHTSA, n.d.).

Senior-friendly approach:

• Water bottles that are easy to open

• Shelf-stable snacks that don’t require strong chewing: soft protein bars, crackers, nuts (if appropriate), applesauce pouches

• If diabetes or other dietary constraints apply, tailor snacks accordingly

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8) First Aid That Matches Likely Needs

A first aid kit is a universal recommendation (American Red Cross, 2025; NHTSA, n.d.). For seniors, include items that address common issues: minor cuts (thin skin bruises easily), sprains, and comfort while waiting.

Additions that help seniors:

• Compression wrap (ankle/wrist support)

• Instant cold pack

• Nitrile gloves and antiseptic wipes

• Spare pair of reading glasses (if you have an older backup)

• A small notepad to record details after an incident (who, what, when)

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9) Basic “Get-Home” Tools: Jump Start and Tire Basics

A dead battery is one of the most common roadside problems. Many vehicle-kit lists include jumper cables or a battery jump solution (American Red Cross, 2025; Ready.gov, 2025; NHTSA, n.d.). Seniors may prefer a compact jump starter because it removes the need to flag down another driver.

Practical senior options:

• A portable jump starter (charged regularly) or quality jumper cables

• Work gloves (protect hands and improve grip)

• A small multi-tool

If a senior driver is not comfortable changing a tire, that’s fine—the goal is not to become a mechanic. The goal is to remain safe and stable until help arrives.

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10) Mobility and Escape Tools: Seatbelt Cutter/Window Breaker + Comfort Aid

Preparedness isn’t only about breakdowns. It also means having a response to worst-case scenarios. A compact seatbelt cutter/window breaker can be lifesaving in rare but severe events. In addition, many seniors benefit from a small mobility support item.

Consider:

• Seatbelt cutter/window breaker tool (keep one accessible in the cabin, and one in the kit for redundancy)

• A foldable cane (if it’s part of your life)

• Wet wipes and hand sanitizer (small comforts matter when you’re stressed)

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How to Keep the Kit “Senior-Ready,” Not Just “Packed”

A kit only works if it’s current and usable:

1. Keep it light enough to carry. A backpack that’s too heavy stays in the trunk when you need it most.

2. Use pouches and large labels. In a stressful moment, you want “MEDS,” “FIRST AID,” “LIGHT,” not a jumble.

3. Refresh it on a schedule. Check water, snacks, batteries, and the power bank at least every few months.

4. Practice once. Know how to turn on the flashlight, where the triangles go, and how to use the charger.

Federal driving-safety guidance for winter travel specifically notes supplies like a flashlight, warning devices, first aid kit (including tourniquet), blankets, water/food, and necessary medicine—exactly the categories that matter most for seniors (NHTSA, n.d.). Ready.gov likewise lists car-kit basics such as jumper cables, flares/reflective triangle, phone charger, blanket, and map (Ready.gov, 2025). The Red Cross emphasizes a practical set of core items including first aid, flashlight, jumper cables, water/food, and warmth supplies (American Red Cross, 2025). When you combine that with public health guidance on maintaining medication lists and prescription planning, you have a strong, evidence-aligned blueprint that fits senior realities (CDC, 2024a; CDC, 2024b).

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Conclusion: Preparedness as Independence

A senior driver’s emergency backpack is not about fear—it’s about preserving independence with dignity. It is a quiet promise you make to yourself and the people who care about you: “If something happens, I will be ready to stay safe, stay warm, stay visible, and stay in contact.”

If you’d like, I can turn this into a one-page printable checklist (large font), plus a monthly 5-minute refresh routine that makes it easy to maintain.

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References (APA 7)

American Red Cross. (2025, January 21). Emergency car kit: 10 items you should have. https://www.redcross.org/take-a-class/resources/articles/car-emergency-kit-what-to-include

Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. (2024a, April 18). Prescriptions. https://www.cdc.gov/prepare-your-health/take-action/prescriptions.html

Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. (2024b, December 30). Medicines risk fact sheet | Older adult drivers. https://www.cdc.gov/older-adult-drivers/medicine/index.html

Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. (2024c). My medications list [PDF]. https://www.cdc.gov/older-adult-drivers/media/pdfs/MyMedications-List-Tribal.pdf

National Highway Traffic Safety Administration. (n.d.). Winter weather driving tips. https://www.nhtsa.gov/winter-driving-tips

Ready.gov. (2025, February 7). Car safety. https://www.ready.gov/car

Ready.gov. (2025, August 21). Build a kit. https://www.ready.gov/kit

Agencies Team Up to Restore Native Mussels to Ohio Waterway

Jan. 13, 2026 | By Andre' M. Hampton, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers |

A multiagency team took a hands-on approach to boosting native mussel populations in Ohio's Cuyahoga River this fall, marking a new chapter in efforts to restore the health of one of the state's most iconic waterways.

Scientists and specialists from the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, Buffalo District, worked alongside the National Park Service, U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, Ohio Department of Natural Resources, Cleveland Metroparks, Cleveland State University, and Edge Engineering & Science to reintroduce hundreds of freshwater mussels into the river. 

The project centered on roughly 670 Fatmucket mussels, each outfitted with tiny, numbered tags and passive integrated transponder chips — the same type of microchips used to track household pets. The tags allowed researchers to monitor the mussels' movement, growth and overall health as they settled into their new environment. 

Working together in a science laboratory at Cleveland State University, the team spent long hours tagging the mussels in preparation for placing them at strategic locations throughout Cuyahoga Valley National Park in Peninsula, Ohio. 

Freshwater mussels have been found in the Cuyahoga River for hundreds of years, but industrial growth, dams and pollution sharply reduced their numbers. Their reappearance in the early 2000s followed significant improvements in water quality. 

Placing the mussels was a delicate task. Researchers made shallow divots in the riverbed — no bigger than a fingertip — and set each mussel in place with its foot down and siphon facing up. That orientation helped the mussels anchor themselves and begin filtering water, an essential step that will improve water quality and stabilized river sediment. 

Experts believe the return of these globally imperiled species could have an outsized impact. Healthy mussel communities support cleaner water, provide habitat for other organisms and strengthen the overall functioning of the river ecosystem. 

The long-term goal is to reestablish a thriving freshwater mussel community in the lower Cuyahoga River within Cuyahoga Valley National Park. U.S. Army Corps of Engineers and the National Park Service said the project aligns with their broader mission to restore and enhance the river's ecosystem for future generations.

Hiking Is Just Walking, Said No One on Mile Seven

Hiking is just walking.
That’s what people say before they go hiking.

Walking is what you do in a grocery store. Walking is what happens when you park too far away. Walking is casual. Walking allows opinions. Walking permits conversation.

Hiking, by mile seven, has stripped you of all non-essential functions.

At mile one, hiking feels like walking. You’re upright. You’re optimistic. You’re commenting on the weather like a professional meteorologist. You’ve already announced—out loud—that you should do this more often.

At mile two, you’re still walking, but now with purpose. Your stride lengthens. You start passing people and pretending it doesn’t matter. You tell yourself this pace is “sustainable,” which is hiker language for I will regret this shortly.

By mile three, the trail subtly changes character. Rocks appear—not enough to warn you, just enough to demand attention. The incline increases in a way that’s technically legal but morally questionable. You stop talking about the scenery and start talking about snacks.

Mile four introduces silence.

Not peaceful silence. Tactical silence. The kind where every word must justify its caloric cost. Conversation is replaced by breathing strategies you invent on the spot. Your calves send messages to your brain that sound like complaints filed in triplicate.

By mile five, walking has left the building.

This is now movement under negotiation.

You begin making deals with yourself:
Just get to that tree.
Okay, just past that bend.
Fine, just until your watch buzzes.

Your posture changes. Your arms are no longer decorative—they are now load-bearing. Your water bottle becomes both lifeline and emotional support object.

Mile six is where hiking becomes philosophical.

You start questioning earlier versions of yourself.
The trailhead version of you was reckless.
The mile-two version was arrogant.
The current version would like a quiet word with whoever suggested this route.

And then comes mile seven.

Mile seven is where the lie collapses.

Walking implies choice. Walking implies you could stop and still be okay. Walking implies dignity.

Mile seven does not.

At mile seven, you are not walking—you are continuing. Forward motion is no longer about progress; it’s about honor. Turning around would mean admitting that a dirt path defeated you, and that simply cannot be entered into the historical record.

Your thoughts narrow. The world becomes a sequence of footsteps and breath. You are acutely aware of every inch of your body and deeply suspicious of all of it. Muscles you’ve never met before introduce themselves aggressively.

Somewhere around here, someone will say, “We’re almost there,” which is a phrase that means absolutely nothing in the wilderness and should be regulated.

Eventually—through stubbornness, momentum, or sheer refusal to be embarrassed—you arrive.

You stop. You sit. You stare into the distance with the hollow confidence of someone who survived something unnecessary.

And later, when someone asks how the hike was, you’ll say:

“It was great. Just a nice walk.”

Because the final rule of hiking is this:
the suffering fades, the story improves, and the lie gets passed on to the next person.

Hiking is just walking—
until mile seven.

Camping in December: Because Hypothermia Builds Character

The calendar may say December, but any seasoned outdoor enthusiast knows that nature does not consult human schedules. There is a peculiar blend of dread and anticipation that comes with packing your tent and sleeping bag when others are lighting fireplaces and pouring hot cocoa. Yet, as the winter of 2025 settles in, defined by powerful winter storms sweeping across the United States with heavy snow, ice, and severe weather warnings, the call of the cold outdoors has never sounded both more treacherous and more irresistible. Winter camping is not merely an activity; it is an immersive test of preparation, resilience, and, as many will insist, character-building. The bitter chill, the long nights, and the thawing sunrise all conspire to teach lessons that no summer outing can deliver.

This year’s winter conditions provide an apt backdrop for understanding the stakes of December camping. A major storm system sweeping from the Plains to the Northeast brought heavy snow, freezing rain, and dangerously low temperatures to large swaths of the country, creating hazardous conditions that disrupted travel and challenged even well-prepared outdoor adventurers. This storm illustrates the unpredictable and severe weather campers may confront on a cold-weather trip, reminding even the most confident backcountry enthusiasts that nature rules the terrain, not human intentions (AP News, 2025). Meanwhile, in California’s Sierra Nevada, recent avalanches triggered by snowmobilers have underscored the real risks associated with winter recreation in backcountry terrain, warning campers and hikers that deep snow and unstable conditions can shift from picturesque to perilous in moments (SF Chronicle, 2025).

But for those who embrace winter camping, these weather events are not deterrents; they are context. They are the challenge that makes the reward of a winter night by the fire so memorable. Setting up camp beneath a sky freckled with stars and waking to the crunch of frost underfoot brings a sense of achievement that no mild autumn hike can match. The solitude of a winter trail—where footprints may be scarce and silence deep—is a powerful contrast to the crowded summer campgrounds. Winter’s stillness offers a space for reflection, a chance to reconnect with the raw elements and test one’s limits against their own expectations.

Preparation differentiates those who suffer from those who thrive. The right gear—a sleeping bag rated for sub-freezing temperatures, insulating layers, high-quality footwear, and reliable tent stakes designed for frozen ground—is not optional. Unlike temperate weather camping, in winter anything less than optimal equipment quickly becomes a liability. Additionally, awareness of local conditions and advisories is crucial. The National Park Service, for example, regularly updates visitors on winter sports opportunities and weather alerts, emphasizing safe enjoyment of parks even in cooler months. Such guidance can make the difference between a memorable adventure and a dangerous situation. A well-planned strategy acknowledges both the beauty and the threat inherent in winter landscapes.

Learning to read the signs of winter weather is part of the craft. Clouds that herald snow squalls, wind that pierces even the warmest layers, and the creeping numbness of fingertips are all part of the language of cold-weather camping. These experiences sharpen judgment and foster respect for the environment. Campers learn to make decisions grounded not in bravado but in preparation and patience. Perhaps more importantly, winter camping teaches adaptability. Gear fails, conditions shift, and plans must change. The ability to adjust without panic builds confidence that carries beyond the trail.

Morning after a cold night outdoors brings its own rewards. The sun rising over frost-laced trees casts golden light that seems to glow all the more because of the darkness endured. Brewing hot coffee in a thermos on a frigid morning feels like a triumph. Friends and fellow campers share laughs over stiff gloves and frozen zippers, acknowledging that every shiver and early wake-up was part of the story worth telling. These moments forge memories stronger than any tale told by a summer fire.

Camping in December is not for everyone, and that is its charm. It demands respect for the elements, a keen awareness of weather conditions, and a commitment to safety. Yet the lessons learned—self-reliance, preparedness, patience, and appreciation for nature’s quieter seasons—are the real treasures of winter camping. In a world increasingly crowded and frenetic, the character built through uncomfortable cold nights and clear, star-filled skies is always earned, never given. In embracing the chill, campers find something glad and enduring, a reminder that occasionally stepping beyond comfort expands one’s sense of possibility.

References

AP News. (2025, December). Winter storm sweeps across US with snow, ice and severe weather.

SF Chronicle. (2025, December). Snowmobilers set off large avalanche in California avalanche search and rescue.

Shot Placement: Everyone Agrees Until the Deer Is Down

There are few phrases in the hunting world that carry more authority, certainty, and retrospective wisdom than “shot placement.” It is spoken with confidence before the hunt, with conviction after the hunt, and with absolute clarity by people who were not present at the moment of truth.

The image of the deer target says it all. There it stands—broadside, relaxed, perfectly still, with a brightly painted vital zone that might as well be labeled “Just Put It Here.” No wind. No brush. No quartering angle. No racing heartbeat. No buck fever. No twig that materializes out of thin air the moment you settle the crosshairs. Just a calm woodland scene and a deer that has clearly agreed to participate in your training exercise.

Real deer, however, did not attend this meeting.

In theory, shot placement is beautifully simple. Hunters have memorized the diagrams. They know the lungs, the heart, the shoulder line, and the ethical angles. They can recite the rules with the precision of a medical student. In camp, everyone nods. On the internet, everyone is an expert. On targets like this one, everyone is a surgeon.

Then comes the moment.

The deer moves. Or doesn’t. Or does something halfway between the two that physics textbooks have not yet explained. The wind shifts. Your foot falls asleep. Your release feels different. The animal is “quartering slightly,” which later turns out to mean anywhere from five degrees to “basically walking away.” The shot breaks. Time slows. And suddenly shot placement is no longer a concept—it’s a responsibility.

What follows is the reenactment.

Every hunter knows this ritual. A stick appears. The ground becomes a canvas. Angles are drawn. Distances are exaggerated. The phrase “right where I was aiming” is deployed with sincerity. Someone else nods, because they were there, and because someday it will be their turn. Each retelling nudges the impact point a little closer to the center of that painted circle.

Then comes the equipment phase.

Shot placement matters more than caliber, someone says—immediately before explaining why their caliber is the only ethical choice known to man. Bows, bullets, arrows, broadheads, grains, feet per second—all summoned as supporting evidence in a trial that no one asked to convene. The target deer, serene and unbothered, watches silently from the forest, its painted rings glowing with quiet judgment.

Eventually, reality enters on its knees.

The tracker looks at the ground. Blood is described using words that carry deep meaning in this world: good, sparse, frothy, dark, questionable. Conversations become shorter. Confidence fades into focus. Shot placement is no longer funny. It is practical, immediate, and humbling.

This is where the humor gives way to the truth hunters actually share but don’t always say out loud: almost everyone is trying to do the right thing. Ethical intent is real. Imperfection is unavoidable. And honesty about shots—good, bad, and ugly—is far more respectable than pretending the painted circle always wins.

The target deer is not a lie. It is a reminder. It shows what we aim for, not what always happens. It teaches anatomy without adrenaline, discipline without pressure, and humility without consequences. It exists so the real deer doesn’t have to teach harder lessons.

And that may be the greatest joke of all.

Because despite all the arguments, diagrams, debates, and post-hunt philosophy, the one rule that actually holds is this: do your best, know your limits, own the result, and tell the truth around the fire.

Shot placement isn’t about perfection. It’s about responsibility—preferably learned on foam, under calm skies, with a deer that never moves at all.

When the Hunt Bites Back: How Ticks Are Reshaping Wildlife, Hunting, and Outdoor Risk

A hunter can do everything right in the woods: read the wind, stay quiet, move with patience, and make a clean shot. Yet the most consequential “contact” of the day may happen without sound, blood trail, or even awareness. A tick is small enough to miss in the field, but large enough—through disease, wildlife impacts, and changing land conditions—to alter how people hunt and how game animals survive. Over the last several decades, ticks have become more than a nuisance on the edge of a sock. They now function as a practical risk factor that influences hunter behavior, field routines, wildlife health, and even management decisions in some regions.

Ticks are often casually grouped with insects, but they are arachnids, related to mites and spiders. This matters because their anatomy and feeding strategy are specialized for prolonged attachment and blood-feeding. Their success comes from patience and efficiency: they wait in vegetation, sense host cues, attach, feed for extended periods, and can transmit pathogens in the process. For hunters who spend long hours in brushy edges, grass, leaf litter, and game trails, the conditions of a “good hunting spot” can also be the conditions of ideal tick habitat (Centers for Disease Control and Prevention [CDC], 2024a).

Ticks thrive where hunting happens

Many hunting methods place people in tick habitat by design. Still-hunting and stalking push hunters through brush and leaf litter. Ground blinds and turkey setups keep hunters low and still near field edges. Tracking and blood trailing move hunters off trails and into dense cover. Even routine chores—setting cameras, checking stands, dragging game, and field dressing—create long exposure windows. The CDC emphasizes that ticks are commonly encountered in wooded and brushy areas with high grass and leaf litter, and that avoiding contact often means staying in the center of trails—advice that directly conflicts with how many hunters move through productive terrain (CDC, 2024a).

Tick risk is also seasonal in a way that overlaps hunting calendars. Early archery seasons, upland bird seasons, and fall scouting often occur when ticks are active and when temperatures encourage lighter clothing. When combined with sweat, kneeling, crawling, and pushing through cover, the practical reality is that hunters can rack up repeated exposures across a single weekend.

The life cycle that multiplies exposure

Ticks do not feed once and disappear. They develop through life stages (egg, larva, nymph, adult), and many species require multiple blood meals to complete their life cycle. In practical terms, a hunter can encounter different stages in different microhabitats and seasons. Nymphs are especially problematic from a human-risk standpoint because they are small and can be harder to detect, while still capable of transmitting pathogens (CDC, 2025). This is one reason hunters may come home feeling fine, only to discover a tick later or develop symptoms after a delay.

Range expansion and longer seasons change the “old map”

Historically, hunters learned local tick patterns the way they learned local wind, thermals, and terrain: by experience. But experience becomes less reliable when conditions change. Multiple research efforts have documented that key tick species are expanding their ranges and shifting distribution patterns, with climate conditions playing a role in survival, seasonal activity, and establishment in new areas (Gardner et al., 2020; Eisen et al., 2023). For hunters, this is more than a scientific abstraction. It means places that “never used to be a tick problem” can become a tick problem, and the window of risk can widen.

USGS reporting on surveillance and research efforts highlights concern that climate change can lengthen seasons favorable for ticks, creating more time and opportunity for spread (U.S. Geological Survey, 2025). While the details differ by species and region, the practical takeaway for hunting culture is the same: the mental model of “tick season” is getting less predictable, and tick pressure can appear earlier, last longer, or show up in new habitat types.

What ticks do to wildlife that hunters pursue

Ticks affect hunting not only by biting hunters but by impacting the animals hunters pursue and the ecosystems those animals depend on. Heavy infestations can cause direct physiological stress—blood loss, irritation, and energy diversion—especially when infestations are intense and prolonged. Winter tick (Dermacentor albipictus), sometimes called the “moose tick,” provides a vivid example of how severe those impacts can be for large mammals. Federal and conservation sources note that winter ticks can infest large mammals heavily, with consequences that include hair loss, anemia, and in severe cases death (U.S. Geological Survey, 2025). The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service describes extreme tick loads on moose and reports substantial calf mortality associated with winter ticks in some areas, alongside efforts to explore biological control methods (U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, 2023).

For hunters, these wildlife impacts matter in at least four ways.

First, animal condition changes what hunters observe. Hair loss, lethargy, poor body condition, and unusual grooming behavior can all become field cues that something is wrong. In some regions, hunters may encounter animals carrying visible tick burdens or signs of chronic stress. This changes the emotional experience of the hunt and can create ethical questions about what a hunter is seeing and whether to report it.

Second, tick pressure can affect movement patterns. Animals under parasite stress may alter bedding, seek different microclimates, or shift activity periods. Even subtle changes can affect success, because hunting often depends on predicting routine patterns—feed, water, bedding, travel corridors. If tick-heavy edges or damp draws become less desirable to animals at certain times, hunters may see fewer sightings or altered travel routes.

Third, disease dynamics in wildlife can shape herd health. Some tick-borne pathogens affect domestic animals and wildlife and can influence population-level health metrics. While not every tick carries a pathogen, and not every bite transmits disease, the ecological role of ticks as vectors is well established across multiple U.S. tick-borne diseases (CDC, 2025). From the hunter’s perspective, the key point is not to diagnose a deer in the field, but to recognize that parasites and pathogens can be part of the population story—especially when agencies report regional spikes in tick abundance or tick-borne illness.

Fourth, in some regions, tick-driven wildlife impacts can feed back into management decisions. The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service notes that winter ticks have been associated with very high calf mortality in Vermont in recent years, emphasizing the seriousness of the issue for wildlife managers (U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, 2023). Whether the management response is surveillance, research, habitat strategies, or population adjustments, hunters are stakeholders in that conversation.

The human cost: the hunt follows you home

For hunters, the primary human risk is not the bite itself but the diseases ticks can transmit. The CDC’s tick-borne disease materials emphasize that hunting brings people in close contact with ticks and encourages specific precautions for hunting season, including treating clothing and gear with 0.5% permethrin before hunting (CDC, 2020). This recommendation is echoed in CDC general prevention guidance, which explains that permethrin-treated clothing and gear can remain protective through several washings and that purchasing pre-treated clothing is an option (CDC, 2024a). State public health agencies provide similar prevention guidance, including permethrin-treated clothing and repellent use (California Department of Public Health, 2024).

The deeper problem is that tick-borne illness can be disruptive even when it is treatable, and it can be severe when diagnosis is delayed or when the illness is less familiar. The CDC’s clinician-focused manual on tick-borne diseases underscores the breadth of tick-borne diseases in the United States and the importance of appropriate prevention and recognition (CDC, 2025). For a hunting household, that translates into a practical reality: an exposure in the field can become weeks of uncertainty, medical visits, missed work, or lingering symptoms. It can also change how people participate in hunting—shorter sits, avoidance of certain cover, reduced enthusiasm for warm-weather scouting, or a shift to more “open” hunting styles.

Ticks also change family dynamics around hunting. Many hunters introduce children to the outdoors early, and the “after-hunt routine” increasingly includes tick checks, showering, and clothing handling. Hunters who travel to other states may also need to update prevention habits because tick species and risk profiles vary regionally.

How tick pressure changes hunting strategy

In practical terms, tick pressure alters hunting behavior in several predictable ways.

Clothing and movement choices shift. Hunters increasingly favor long pants even in warmth, tuck pants into socks or boots, and use gaiters. They may avoid kneeling in leaf litter, sit on pads, or use elevated stands more consistently. The CDC hunting-season guidance specifically recommends tucking pants into socks or boots as a barrier strategy, reinforcing this field logic (CDC, 2020).

Scouting and camera work become higher-risk exposures. A hunter may spend more time setting stands than hunting them, and that time often occurs in late summer and early fall, when vegetation is thick. Hunters may begin to choose routes that prioritize low tick contact rather than purely “quiet” approaches.

Time in the field may compress. In heavy tick conditions, a hunter might limit how long they remain in a ground blind or may avoid certain thickets even if those areas historically held deer. This can influence success rates, especially for hunters whose strategy depends on deep-cover patterns.

Scent-control routines can conflict with repellents. Some hunters worry that repellents will spook game or contaminate gear. Yet public health guidance continues to emphasize prevention. The result is a culture shift: prevention becomes part of the gear system, not an optional add-on.

Meat, ethics, and responsibility during field dressing

Ticks also show up at the most intimate point of the hunt: handling the animal. Field dressing and dragging game can bring hunters into contact with ticks on fur and in surrounding vegetation. Hunters may discover ticks moving off the animal or crawling on clothing during processing. While the presence of ticks is not the same as meat contamination, it does raise practical sanitation issues and increases the need for disciplined handling: keep gear organized, avoid placing clothing or gloves in leaf litter, and do thorough checks afterward.

There is also a stewardship dimension. Hunters are often among the first to notice unusual burdens, hair loss, or abnormal body condition. When these signs appear across multiple animals or in unusual seasons, reporting observations to wildlife agencies can contribute to surveillance and management. In an era where tick ranges can shift and outbreaks can emerge, hunters are not merely recreational users of wild spaces; they can function as field observers who help inform wildlife health awareness.

Prevention as skill: the new marksmanship

If ticks are now part of the hunting landscape, prevention becomes part of hunting competence. This is not about fear; it is about disciplined routine. The CDC’s recommendations are practical and field-compatible: treat clothing and gear with 0.5% permethrin, avoid brushing against high grass and leaf litter when possible, and perform thorough tick checks after outdoor activity (CDC, 2020; CDC, 2024a). State guidance reinforces similar measures and emphasizes treated clothing and repellents as part of prevention (California Department of Public Health, 2024).

Seen through a hunter’s lens, these steps mirror other hunting disciplines. Hunters already accept that hearing protection, blaze requirements, safe backstops, and careful knife work are non-negotiable. Tick prevention fits that same category: part of the responsible craft.

What comes next: hunting in a tick-dense future

Research and surveillance efforts point to continued attention on tick distribution and abundance. Studies tracking the range dynamics of major tick species and the environmental factors influencing establishment show that tick risk is not static (Gardner et al., 2020; Eisen et al., 2023). Federal agencies are investing in surveillance innovations and exploring management tools, including biological control methods in specific contexts (U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, 2023; U.S. Geological Survey, 2025). For hunters, the key question is whether hunting culture adapts quickly enough to keep participation strong and safe as tick pressure changes.

The likely future is not a world where hunters stop hunting, but one where hunting becomes more intentional about invisible risks. That may mean more education in hunter safety courses, more public-facing guidance timed to seasons, and stronger partnerships between hunting communities and wildlife health professionals.

Conclusion

Ticks have always been present in the landscape, but their impact on hunting is becoming more consequential. They influence where hunters go, how long they stay, what they wear, and how they process game. They affect wildlife health through direct parasitic stress and disease dynamics, altering animal condition and potentially shifting movement patterns. They also pose a real human health risk that can outlast a season. In response, hunting is slowly adding a new discipline to the traditional toolkit: prevention as a practiced skill. The hunt still demands patience, restraint, and competence. Increasingly, it also demands that hunters respect what they cannot see.

References

California Department of Public Health. (2024, July 31). Tick-borne disease prevention. California Department of Public Health.

Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. (2020). It’s open season on ticks: Protect yourself from tickborne disease this hunting season. U.S. Department of Health and Human Services.

Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. (2024, August 28). Preventing tick bites. U.S. Department of Health and Human Services.

Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. (2025). Tickborne diseases of the United States: A reference manual for healthcare providers. U.S. Department of Health and Human Services.

Eisen, R. J., Kugeler, K. J., Eisen, L., Beard, C. B., & Paddock, C. D. (2023). Evaluation of the association between climate warming and increased incidence of tick-borne diseases in the United States. Parasites & Vectors, 16, Article 58.

Gardner, A. M., Hamer, S. A., & Hamer, G. L. (2020). Landscape features predict the current and forecast the future distribution of Ixodes scapularis and associated disease risk. Proceedings of the Royal Society B: Biological Sciences, 287(1935), 20202278.

U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. (2023, February 8). Service supports winter tick research using fungi to decrease tick populations. U.S. Department of the Interior.

U.S. Geological Survey. (2025, May 6). Scent dogs join tick surveillance efforts. U.S. Department of the Interior.

The Rising Threat of Hamster Hunting in America

In recent years, the United States has witnessed a troubling and largely underreported phenomenon: the rise of hamster hunting. What began as an obscure pastime whispered about in rural feed stores and online forums has now emerged as a full-fledged subculture—complete with gear debates, ethical arguments, and the inevitable comparison to wild boar hunting.

At first glance, the comparison seems absurd. Wild boars are massive, tusked, aggressive animals capable of destroying farmland and maiming the unprepared. Hamsters, by contrast, are small, fuzzy, and traditionally associated with plastic wheels and children named Tyler. But history has taught us that underestimating a species is often the first step toward regret.

Boar hunters will tell you that the danger lies not in the size of the animal, but in its unpredictability and willingness to attack when cornered. Hamster hunters make the same claim—usually after the third or fourth story involving shredded gloves, emotional trauma, and a sudden respect for prey animals under six ounces.

The modern hamster hunter insists that the threat escalates exponentially when hamsters operate in packs. Alone, a hamster is manageable. In numbers, however, they exhibit behaviors that mirror wild boar sounders: coordinated movement, aggressive squeaking, and the uncanny ability to appear behind you when you are absolutely certain you checked that corner already. There are reports—unverified, but passionately defended—of “wheel-based flanking maneuvers” and “cheek-pouch supply caching” that suggest a level of tactical awareness no one is quite prepared to acknowledge.

Much like wild boar hunting, hamster hunting has developed its own specialized equipment culture. There are debates over gloves versus gauntlets, the ethics of baiting with sunflower seeds, and whether camouflage is truly necessary when your quarry is colorblind and mildly nearsighted. Some hunters swear by high-powered optics, while others argue that eye contact is the only honest way to face a hamster, man to rodent.

Safety warnings now circulate in hushed tones. Never corner a hamster near its bedding. Avoid dusk and dawn, when they are most active and emotionally unpredictable. And under no circumstances assume that silence means retreat—it often means plotting.

Critics argue that hamster hunting is unnecessary, even cruel. Proponents counter that unmanaged hamster populations pose a clear and present danger to household wiring, cereal supplies, and the structural integrity of baseboards. They cite gnaw marks as evidence. They always cite gnaw marks.

As with wild boar hunting, there is also the question of respect. Serious hamster hunters emphasize that this is not about domination, but balance. The hamster, they argue, is a noble adversary—compact, relentless, and possessed of an unearned confidence that borders on arrogance. To hunt it is not to diminish it, but to acknowledge its place in the hierarchy of creatures that refuse to stay in their lane.

Whether hamster hunting will continue to grow remains to be seen. What is clear is that America has once again found a way to take something small, slightly ridiculous, and transform it into a matter of grave seriousness. And if history is any guide, we will not stop until there are licensing requirements, televised competitions, and at least one reality show canceled after a handler underestimates “just one more hamster.”

In the end, perhaps the lesson is simple: never mock the hunter, never mock the prey, and never assume that something small cannot ruin your entire afternoon.

After all, wild boars taught us that lesson first. Hamsters are merely reinforcing it—one squeak at a time.