Courtesy of the Louisiana Department of Wildlife and Fisheries
Kayaking at the Becoming an Outdoor Women's Weekend.
The Louisiana Department of Wildlife and Fisheries describes its “Becoming an Outdoors Woman” (BOW) weekends as “a hands-on, multi-course weekend event designed to teach women basic outdoor skills in a supportive environment.” Over three days, campers take part in workshops like Backpacking, Game Cleaning, Gator Done! (Yep, that’s alligator hunting.), Campfire Cooking, Marksmanship, and ATV Safety.
Women who have attended describe it as: “heaven on Earth for women who love the outdoors,” “my happy place,” “summer camp with Jello shots.”
The opportunity to attend the weekend-long experience at Camp Grant Walker in Pollock, Louisiana came at the perfect time in my life. Until the year 2020, to quote Woody Allen, I was “two with nature.” During quarantine times, while stuck at home on eight wooded acres as a newly-minted empty-nester, I had learned to forage, hike, grow mushrooms, and make herbal remedies. It was a kind of self-directed crash course in interacting with the natural world. Surely, this immersive, women-forward weekend in the woods was my next step.
"It became apparent (through about a gazillion messages) that these women live their lives as wives, mothers, teachers, realtors, and medical professionals eagerly awaiting the one weekend of the year when they can indulge in their wild side."
The woman who first told me about BOW was someone I met at a foraging workshop. Her name was Nanette, and she became the hub of the wheel of my new gaggle of BOW “sistas.” Nanette set us all up on a GroupMe thread that began blowing up my phone day and night, weeks before the weekend arrived. At sixty-four, I was worried I’d be the oldster of our little bunch. I wasn’t. Our group's ages ranged from thirty-two to seventy-four. And even though many of these women have been attending BOW weekends for years and I’d be a BOW virgin, I felt immediately like one of the pack.
It became apparent (through about a gazillion messages) that these women live their lives as wives, mothers, teachers, realtors, and medical professionals eagerly awaiting the one weekend of the year when they can indulge in their wild side.
First, though, my application had to be accepted. Each woman in our little group had applied at the stroke of midnight on January 1, 2025, for one of the coveted 138 slots. The experienced BOWers had proffered a flurry of advice on what to do and not do to ensure my application was accepted. I’d heeded it all. Now, we all watched our mailboxes for a mythical black envelope.
Photo courtesy of Louisiana Department of Wildlife and Fisheries.
One by one, the ladies started reporting that they’d received their acceptance. They posted shots of their black envelope with their mailboxes or steering wheels visible in the background. Some news can’t wait to be shared.
My husband returned from our mailbox day after day with, “Sorry, no black envelope.” More and more women were accepted and reporting on the classes they’d been assigned; there were messages like, “Oh good, we’ll be in fur trading together!” and “I’m in archery, too. See you there!”
Still no black envelope at my house.
More messages. “I got all my first choices; wood carving, blacksmithing, flint knapping, and fly fishing,” and ”Yay, we’re both taking herpetology and falconry!” By now, I was the only person in the group who had not received their letter. After all this build-up, I began to accept I might not be able to attend the BOW after all. Maybe my application got lost in the mail. Maybe I’d filled it out wrong.
Finally, it came—initiating a happy dance and an all-caps message to the group. The letter inside told me I’d been assigned all my first-choice classes; Wilderness First Aid, Wilderness Survival, Living with Louisiana Wildlife, and Landscaping for Wildlife. I mixed up a batch of my famous limoncello and some elderflower liqueur to share with my new posse and started counting the days.
A Little History
Dr. Christine L. Thomas is the woman behind the "Becoming an Outdoors Woman" program. A Professor of Resource Management at the University of Wisconsin-Stevens, she started it in 1991 with the idea of providing opportunities for women to learn skills that enhance and encourage participation in hunting, fishing, and other outdoor activities overwhelmingly practiced by men.
Today, BOW is offered in thirty-eight states and some Canadian provinces, usually by local and state wildlife and conservation agencies. It is an introductory-level workshop that teaches basic courses only. Advanced Beyond BOW courses are also taught in some states. Each year, over 20,000 women participate, totaling over 300,000 women over the past thirty-four years.
Courtesy of the Louisiana Department of Wildlife and Fisheries
Fire time at the Becoming an Outdoor Women's Weekend.
Camp Grant Walker 4-H Center, the site of Louisiana’s BOW weekends, is a gorgeous, sprawling facility, occupying ninety acres complete with a commercial kitchen, dining hall, swimming pool, rifle range, skeet range, Greek theater, archery range, basketball court, outdoor cooking sites, multiple conference and meeting rooms, two pavilions, a one-acre pond, log cabins for instructors, and bunkhouses for the rest of us.
My BOW Adventure
When the weekend finally arrived in March, I made my way to Pollock, feeling suddenly nervous to meet the women I’d been corresponding with round the clock for the past three months. But merely an hour in, we felt like cousins in a big Southern family. The first order of business was a welcome meeting in the assembly room. There were 220 of us, including our instructors.
The youngest woman I met was eighteen, the oldest seventy-six. Careers were all over the place, too. I met an OB-GYN and a dog groomer, a college professor and a hotel manager, a nurse, an EMT, and several teachers. There was a group of five women wearing their BOW t-shirts from 2005, and there was more than one instructor or volunteer who’d begun years before as a student. About half of us were BOW newbies.
"I’ve always taken pride in living in Sportsman’s Paradise where my dad, five brothers, and husband are right at home in their bass boats and deer stands. When we gather as a family, they regale us with their victories. Thanks to the Becoming an Outdoors Woman weekend, I have a few stories of my own now."
That first night, I joined a group for a guided night hike. This was the most summer-campy experience we had as we stumbled around in the dark geeking out over bioluminescent millipedes and spiders with glowing eyes. Our guide handed out wintergreen Lifesavers and we watched the sparks they created as we bit them in the dark. She had us smell a scent in a jar, then wet our nose and smell it again to demonstrate how dogs’ wet noses help them smell better. I could have gone on all night.
The next morning, my Wilderness Survival instructor began our class with, “I hope you never need these skills.” Then, he taught us the right and wrong ways to respond to various emergencies in the wild, including hypothermia, heat stroke, drowning, snake bite, injury, shock, and illness. He helped us build a survival kit from household items and shared nifty tricks, such as installing your flashlight batteries backwards, so you don’t accidentally turn it on and run down the battery. We practiced building shelters from our clothes, and I won a BOW bandana for being the first one to start a survival fire.
Courtesy of the Louisiana Department of Wildlife and Fisheries
Target shooting with the Becoming an Outdoor Women's Weekend.
On our way to lunch, we passed other women happily skinning a deer and a wild boar (we’d later get to taste the fruit of their efforts, in the form of celebratory last-day boar sausage). I could hear rifle fire in the distance. Toward evening, clumps of women made their way back to the bunkhouse laughing and all talking at once about what they’d learned.
That night, a DJ played in one of the pavilions. Somebody brought glowing body paint and we all painted ourselves and danced in the dark under a black light. Talk about freedom, not knowing or caring what anybody thought, just following my body where the music took it in the dark in a completely judgement-free zone. When I needed to catch my breath, I’d meander over to the bonfire, where the supply of Jello shots seemed endless. Eventually, I found myself in the middle of the first drinking game I’d played since the '90s.
The next day in my Wilderness First Aid class, we took turns playing victim and rendering aid. Volunteers were scattered around the property. We had to search to find them, assess their simulated injuries, then explain what we’d do to help them. We even worked to rehydrate one of our classmates, who’d overindulged the night before and was a little worse for wear.
Photo courtesy of Louisiana Department of Wildlife and Fisheries.
In my Landscaping for Wildlife class, we made a birdfeeder from a length of limb (arts and crafts, at last!). We learned about a lot of mistakes well-meaning homeowners make that actually repel or even endanger wildlife. I was blown away by the caliber of instructors and the non-competitive nature of the classes, when I was clearly one of the least outdoorsy women there.
In my Living with Louisiana Wildlife class, we learned to identify animals by their sound, scat, and tracks. We were taken to a riverbank where we identified different animal prints and made casts of a few to take home. Around the bonfire that night, we heard tales of the Outdoor Photography, Boating, Foraging, and other classes.
I’ve always taken pride in living in Sportsman’s Paradise where my dad, five brothers, and husband are right at home in their bass boats and deer stands. When we gather as a family, they regale us with their victories. Thanks to the Becoming an Outdoors Woman weekend, I have a few stories of my own now. And I plan to have even more; I’ve already decided to throw my hat in the ring for BOW 2026, where hopefully this grandmother will be learning blacksmithing, rifle shooting, and flint napping. Maybe I’ll even overcome my snake phobia in the herpetology class.
Now, I’ve just got to hope and pray for another little black envelope to find its way to my house.
The BOW 2026 application lottery will be open January 5–28, and the workshop is scheduled for March 20–22. The weekend cost is $300, which includes dormitory style accommodations and all meals from Friday at lunch to Sunday at lunch. Scholarships are available for low-income women with children under the age of eighteen. More details at wlf.louisiana.gov/page/bow.
