CAT CRAZY

The outdoor world garners attention from young and old.  Hunting, fishing, trapping, camping and other natural pursuits provide hours of endless fun for young and old.  But looking at the demographics of trapping in particular, most participants aren't youngsters.  Many have been at it for decades. 

But every once in a while the activity catches the attention of a young adult and they fall head-over-heels in love with it. Such was the case for 17-year-old South Haven High School senior Wacey Lathers.  Lathers started trapping when he was 11 years old with assistance from his dad and grandfather.  He caught his first coon and he's been hooked ever since. 

Over the last few years he's developed a love for chasing bobcats.  Many Kansans don't even realize thousands of bobcats roam the countryside and most have never seen one.  It's part of this mystique that draws Lathers to pursue them for weeks on end from Christmas to mid-February. 

He'll set anywhere from 30-45 traps and check them daily.  Most are walk-through flat sets with a #3 Montana buried under dry dirt.  He uses a variety of lures and visual stimuli to pique the curiosity of an inquisitive bobcat.  Traps remain in place for several weeks as bobcats have a wide home range and may only roll through an area every week or so. 

Last year Lathers caught a personal best 16 bobcats.  He sells their pelts for up to $100 each but averages about $50.  He also traps raccoons heavily during the first week of the furharvesting season in November.  He was up at 3 a.m. and back at the house, showered and changed for school every day by 7:30 a.m.  During nine days he caught 110 coons and averaged about $8 each selling each of those animals on the carcass. 

Lathers admits you have to love something a lot to spend that much time at it.  He reasons it's kept him out of some trouble some teenagers might find along the way.  Lathers realizes the tradition and history of trapping and relevance to our country making it even more appealing. 

Once again, the outdoors is truly a special place. 

GREEN WITH ENVY

Waterfowlers know the color well.  It's a natural hunter green if you will.  The shine and iridescence of a drake mallard's head is a sight to behold.  And right now mallards are showing up by the thousands in the Sunflower State.

The mallard is the most popular duck in Kansas.  Die-hard waterfowlers anxiously await the times when waters up north freeze and food sources are covered with snow.  That sends the big ducks packing and Kansas is on their list of stopover points.  How long they stay here is never a science and depends on the weather.  At this time of year there's no shortage of efforts to take a limit of five greenheads.  Throw in an "extra" duck and a 6-duck limit is a wonderful thing.

A buddy and I recently had a wonderful late season hunt on a small pond during the warm spell last week.  Recently ice-skatable, the pond opened up for a few days.  It didn't take the ducks long to move back in, either, and the sights and sounds were inspiring. 

Huge flocks of mallards, some numbering into the hundreds, descended from a bright, blue sky.  Early on there was little wind but we still got a few to play our game.  As the morning progressed the wind came up and ducks heavy with full crops from feeding were looking for water and a midday hangout.  We had the welcome mat out and our 2-man limit of 10 greenheads was quickly filled.  Throw in a beautiful drake greenwing teal each and we had duck straps heavy with nature's finest colors of the fowl world. 

With just a couple weeks left in the season I'll be out as often as possible.  There's something magical about big, or even little flocks of mallards responding to a call.  It's addictive and I hope they never find a cure.

 

YOUTH HUNTS A BIG SUCCESS

There are many special hunting opportunities offered by the Kansas Department of Wildlife, Parks and Tourism, as well as other entities. They're designed to provide unique experiences for youth as well as inexperienced or even veteran hunters. The odds for a successful outing are good. 
 

My son, Brandon, was fortunate to get drawn for a special youth deer hunt at Marion Reservoir. Actually, he didn't get drawn but one of the kids that did had already filled his buck tag so Brandon was next on the list. It was fortunate as he and his twin brother, Cody, only had two weekend days each to hunt with school and basketball commitments.

We crawled into a pop-up blind early Saturday morning. Within the first 20 minutes of shooting time we saw seven does and yearlings. After an hour Brandon started to get a little chilly as it was only 24 degrees outside. I had a little portable heater and kicked it on and things got quite comfortable as we chatted and waited but nothing else showed.

The evening hunt was in a different area. We were in a box blind but exposed to a 20 mph wind and with a temperature of 29 degrees it was chilly! I bundled Brandon up best I could when we climbed into the blind at 3 p.m. At 3:23 p.m. a button buck entered the field and we had deer in sight the rest of the evening.

Brandon was holding out for a buck and had does and yearlings all around us. Light was fading when another doe entered the field just to our right and a couple minutes later a nice buck walked out at 5:18 p.m. I helped Brandon get his .243 rifle up and steadied and I told him to keep the crosshairs on him as the buck walked. I bleated several times to get the buck to stop as I watched him through binoculars and he finally did.

"Can you get on him?" I asked.

BOOM!

Apparently he could as he shot before my mouth had even closed from the previous question.

He looked up over the scope and excitedly said, "I GOT HIM! He fell right there!"

He kept looking out at his first buck-ever 80 yards away and back at me. His smile said it all and he was obviously pumped up. Dad was proud, too.

Shortly after we shot, another participant, Laken Schroeder, made a great shot on a nice 10-pointer. She was excited as well and both kids were proud of their accomplishment.

Special hunts like these are a lot of work and time consuming for those involved. They don't reach thousands of kids or adults but they are truly quality experiences. And the memories they provide certainly prove the value of spending time in the great outdoors and they'll last a lifetime.

HEARTBREAKER

This past weekend was the first for the Kansas firearms deer season. One of my twins, Cody, had dibs on this weekend and got some one-on-one time with ol' Dad. Brandon's turn comes this weekend.

 

Our original plan called for morning and evening hunts both Saturday and Sunday on a beautiful little spot. A monsoon-like rain canceled our Saturday morning plans but the weather moderated for the evening hunt and we crawled into the ground blind at 3 p.m. Ninety minutes later Cody's first-ever encounter with buck fever reared its ugly head.

Cody first spotted the buck off to our right and whispered not to move as it was looking at us. Immediately, his breathing went from calm to labored and he was shaking. As it moved in front of us I was able to help Cody get the .243 rifle up onto the shooting sticks. The buck turned and was slightly quartered to us and stopped. We'd rehearsed where to aim during commercials of the KSU/ISU football game with a deer hunting DVD and a laser pointer before we left the house. Cody was spot-on with his quiz. Add to this the fact the buck was standing just outside bow range and I figured it was a done deal.

But throw buck fever into the mix and our best intentions flew right out the front window of the blind. The buck bolted at the shot and I didn't see any visual evidence of a hit. I could only see him for 15 yards before he got into some thick cedars. Cody asked if he got him.

 
"I don't know, buddy, we'll have to go look," I told him not overly optimistic. 

We went to where the buck stood and found nothing. Scanning the grass and leaves where he exited we also found no sign he had connected on his first buck. The more we looked the more dejected Cody became. He couldn't believe he could have missed as last year he killed his first deer, a doe, at 110 yards with a perfect shot. He wondered aloud how he could miss such an easy shot.

As much as I tried to console him it was obvious he was heartbroken and the huge disappointment was soon evident in a stream of tears. I tried to tell him that even adults with plenty of experience get shook up and miss deer on a regular basis. But that doesn't do much to help a 12-year-old cope knowing a near-perfect opportunity got away and the buck of his dreams was not to be on this day.

 

Sunday's hunts were on a beautiful, chilly day. The morning hunt yielded a near-shot opportunity when we fooled two of three does trying to get ready. The third one pegged us and they all bolted. The evening hunt found Cody with the cross hairs on a doe perfectly broadside in front of us. The bad news was there was another deer right behind her and he couldn't shoot. As we waited for one or the other to clear for a clean shot, coyotes cut loose way too close and the already edgy deer bolted.

 

As we topped the pond dam on the way back to the truck at dusk we watched as a half-dozen mallards left the mirrored surface of the water as silhouettes. It was a beautiful sight. I told my son I loved him and was glad to spend those hours hunting with him, even if he didn't get to put his tag on a deer.

These times with my boys, successful or not, are like shooting the buck of my dreams.

TURKEY DAY TRADITIONS

It seems everyone has some sort of Thanksgiving day traditions.  Whether it's the usual meal and football watching or any other sort of activity there's always something to look forward to when friends and family get together.  Many of these traditions involve outdoor-related activities.

We started one inadvertently a few years ago.  The Thanksgiving weekend is long enough to be able to set a few traps and run them several times over the course of the weekend.  Our first year's take was considerable and my kids, as well as my nephew, had a good time.  We caught several coons, including one 25-pounder we called coon-zilla, possums and our first coyote.

It was our turn to host the holiday this year and one of the first questions from my sister's kids were "are we going to run traps?"  My 12-year-old niece was on the bandwagon now and likely still miffed she didn't get to go a couple years ago as I didn't have enough room on the ATV for ALL the kids.  My daughter was home from college and she wanted in on the action as well.

I met my sister and her family outside of town on their way here last Thursday.  She followed in her mini-van (much to her chagrin) through a pasture to where I had set traps the day prior.  It looked like we were pulling up to Worlds of Fun as my truck and the van emptied and kids went everywhere.  We had three 12-year-olds, a 14-year-old and my soon-to-be 19 year-old daughter.  My sister and brother-in-law even tagged along with their beagle "chili" dog in tow, too.

We quickly found several of about a dozen traps had connected.  We caught two raccoons and a possum and were optimistic about our beaver chances (check the next blog for that story) as we set more beaver traps.  The kids were excited to be outdoors on a nice day and it was a new experience for my sister and her husband.

The usual turkey day meal followed and we watched football like millions of other Americans.  My company had to leave to go to other relatives that evening but as we said our farewells they were all reminding me to call and text them pictures of the next day's catch.  They couldn't wait to see what was in store. 

It's an odd tradition, but one the kids will remember forever.    

TRAP HAPPY

The opener of the Kansas furharvesting season doesn't get quite the same fan-fare as the upland bird opener. However, to those outdoorsmen and women who enjoy trapping they've been looking forward to last Wednesday all year. It's the perfect time to take advantage of the renewable natural resource of species like coyotes, raccoons, possums, skunks, beavers and muskrats. And for the first time ever, Kansas now has a limited-quota season on otters.

My boys and I started our trapping expeditions a few years ago. They were studying history in school and had asked about the fur trade and trapping. I geared up with some traps, read a lot on http://www.trapperman.com/ and we set out to try our luck.

I quickly learned that trapping was hard work. And you just couldn't set traps anywhere and expect to catch anything. Trappers must know the sign, habits and habitat of their quarry more than any other outdoor pursuit. Most of the fun for my boys was getting out and romping along the stream and finding all sorts of "treasures" little boys manage to bring home. It was also quality time I could spend with my boys.

They learned about the natural world and we talked at length about life and death and humans' role in the scheme of things. Furbearer populations kept in check keep Mother Nature from wiping them out with disease and also keeps the food chain in check. And speaking of checks, it's the only thing I do outdoors that pays me back monetarily. Our first season we made nearly $200 on our catch. It didn't even come close to covering our start-up costs, but it more than paid for gas and snacks.


I set 15 traps yesterday and checked them this morning. I had three possums, two raccoons and a skunk. My boys and I were taking odds before they left for school on how many critters we'd catch. They'll run the line with me this weekend after basketball practice and we'll be off and running again this year. It was indeed a good start to the furharvesting season.

PEACEFUL PARTICIPATION

It's not often I slow down long enough to just sit and watch anything. A K-State or KC Chief's football game might be the exception but most of the outdoor things I enjoy I'm an active participant. But maybe that's why bowhunting is relaxing and good for the soul. I may bowhunt a dozen times or so a year but chances are I only get the bow off its hook once or twice a season, if that. Even in a good year it's primarily a spectator sport.

I sat for the first time the other night on a beautiful fall evening. I never really expect to kill anything and was simply looking forward to time in a tree. Nothing knows you're there and witness to the natural world is rewarding. I wouldn't be disappointed.

I'm always fooled by squirrels and other four-legged creatures sounding EXACTLY like approaching deer in dry leaves. The first heart rate increase was caused by a lowly possum meandering through the woods from behind me. When it finally came into view I had to laugh. It kept me amused for the next 45 minutes munching aimlessly on whatever it could find on the forest floor.

Several squirrels moved about the tree tops. I'm always amazed at the ease with which they negotiate their story-tall habitats without so much as a slip. One squirrel in particular was particularly note-worthy as it had to be the largest tree rat I'd ever seen. It could easily be considered big game and was large enough to nearly need his own area code. I've seen thousands of squirrels but this one was Boone and Crockett for sure.

And then as deer often do, a small buck magically appeared without any notice. The 1 1/2-year-old walked right behind and within a few yards of my tree and kept on walking. Ten minutes or so later another small, but slightly bigger buck walked right up to my tree. It stopped only 7 yards from me and stretched broadside, something every bowhunter hopes happens when it's time to shoot. It stayed within 25 yards for 10 minutes or so before finally moving off in the same direction as the previous buck. Neither buck had any idea I was watching just 15' above.

Right at last light I heard more leaves crunching and watched a decent-sized coon come up and out of the creek bed. He walked the trail in front of me and stopped when I made a movement to catch his attention. He stood up on his hind legs, bobbed his head and looked at me like "What in the world are you?" He never figured it out and finally traveled on.

I didn't kill a deer but most hunts end the same way. It's not all bad and being simply a spectator in the game of nature is sometimes rewarding in itself. There's always next time.

MMM...MMM...GOOD!

The Kansas pheasant season kicks off November 12th.  It's a great time with family and friends and enjoyed by thousands of residents and non-residents.  But maybe even more importantly is the chance to restock the freezer with one of my favorite main ingredients in a delicious dinner I've enjoyed for decades.

Pheasant stroganoff may sound a bit bizarre, but it's easily at the top of the list of wild game dishes in my book.  A buddy's mother made it for me the first time when I was in 7th grade.  That was a long time ago, but I still remember the recipe and am reminded of how wonderful it is every time I make it.  My family loves it, too, and one son says it's his favorite meal of all.  That's high praise coming from a 12-year-old.  He's like Pavlov's dog when it's cooking and circles the kitchen like a vulture.  My wife, who's real picky about wild game, says it's even in her top 5 favorite meals. 

It's easy to make.  Here's what you need:

2 pheasant breasts, boned              1 medium onion, diced
1 can mushrooms                           chicken bouillon
6-8 carrots                                      1-2 cups sour cream
6-8 celery stalks                             Flour
2-3 T oil                                         Salt, pepper

Cut pheasant into 1" cubes.  Roll in flour and fry in oil (ideally, just enough oil so there is none left when browned) over medium heat.  Season to taste with salt and pepper.  Add mushrooms and sliced carrots, celery and onion.  Add 2-4 cups chicken bouillon broth, or just enough to cover the meat and vegetables.  Cook on low to medium heat, stirring occasionally until vegetables are done.  Add sour cream and mix.  Serve over rice or noodles. 

Homemade dinner rolls are a nice addition, but we typically don't add any side dishes as it's a meal in itself.  It's easy and doesn't take too long to prepare.  We tag team it as my wife cuts up the ingredients and I cook it.  It works well.  And if you run out of pheasant, chicken breasts work equally as well.

Bon Appetit!  

DUCKS DESPITE DROUGHT

The Low Plains Late Duck Zone opened last weekend for much of Kansas.  It's a time anxiously awaited by waterfowlers statewide.  Spots with water had some success while others were wondering what the season might hold provided Mother Nature keeps holding out.  Drought isn't good for any wildlife, particularly waterfowl.  And at this late stage in the game chances are good we've got all the natural precipitation we're going to get.

Some ponds and wetlands can rely on pumping to provide water in drought years.  It's a difficult, and often expensive task, but it does provide the key ingredient waterfowl need in their migration southward.  It doesn't work on a large scale but it can provide good results on smaller wetlands and ponds. 

The duck opener in my neck of the woods found hunters having some success on pumped wetlands.  Birds didn't necessarily cover up the newly-formed pools but they did provide promise for future hunts.  We killed a few early season migrants like pintails, gadwall, wigeons and teal.  No mallards made an appearance, but that's about the norm for this time of year.  Cold snaps will send these "fair weather" ducks south on their journey and the big red-legged mallards will show up when it gets cold. 

It's hoped the "build it and they will come" mentality holds true and with adequate water migrating waterfowl will stop and check it out.  It's still early in the game and the next couple months will tell the tale of whether or not the ducks stop or just keep right on going to greener and wetter pastures.  I'm hoping they stop for a visit.

ODE TO A COOT...KABOB



Photos Courtesy of Bob Gress

Coots might be the Rodney Dangerfield of the wetland world.  They're drab-colored, clumsy and awkward in air when they finally take flight.  They don't get much attention unless you're a new Lab pup on his first hunt.  They'll watch 'em for hours.  And I've never known anyone to attest to their palatability. I know Cajuns eat them but they'll eat anything so I'm not sure that counts.  
 
As a result, I've never killed many of them while duck hunting.  Honestly, they don't tend to fly into a spread much unless someone is moving around in the marsh on foot or by boat.  The limit, 15, is liberal so there's plenty of opportunity.  I've just never done it. 

Not that eating a coot is on my bucket list, but inquiring minds wanted to know.  I volunteered.  They bombarded us several times early one morning last week while duck hunting.  As an added bonus, six of them provided practical field work for my new Lab and he retrieved each and every one.  In all honesty, they're pretty cool critters up close and personal. They've got some of the most unique legs and feet you'll see on a bird.  I never waste anything I kill and knew I'd put them to the taste test once and for all.

There isn't much meat on a coot, less than a teal and slightly more than a big dove.  And it's not as thick or coarse as duck meat and looked and felt noticeably tender.  I marinated them in a bath of Italian dressing overnight.  I wrapped each of the breast halves in bacon and put them on a kabob.  I grilled them to a medium-rare and plopped them down in front of my twin 12-year-old boys for dinner.  The results were surprising.  Both boys liked them better than our usual dove or duck kabobs.  They commented on the tenderness of the meat and mild, pleasant flavor.  They were mighty tasty and I was impressed, too. 

And to think all these years I've been watching coots fly by.  I always liked Rodney Dangerfield and I think I like coots, too.  Maybe those Cajuns know what they're talking about after all.       

GATOR'S FIRST DUCKS

Last weekend was a welcome relief and eased my mind.  Our annual duck camp at Cheyenne Bottoms had been missing one of my favorite parts the last couple years.  My old black Lab, Magnum, was laid to rest in the summer of 2010.  Mag was basically retired and hadn't hunted the last couple years.  I still miss the ol' boy. 

But one thing he did before he left this world was father a litter of puppies.  I got pick of the litter and we call him Gator.  Now 17-months old he got his first taste of ducks and duck camp last weekend.   

Gator's got plenty of talent and tons of potential.  I've been working on lots of fundamentals and advanced training ever since I brought him home at 7 weeks old.  But I think I forgot how much energy young dogs can have and channeling that energy is a chore.  Too much energy is better than the opposite and he's done well adapting to lessons.  He's smart, willing to please and a dummy-retrieving machine.

My biggest concern was his ability to sit still and adjust to the duck boat.  New things freak him out.  But with the vigor of a veteran he got right in the boat and was a good citizen.  His first real duck came on an evening hunt as my buddy, Jim, dumped a wigeon.  Gator marked it down and was off at the sound of his name.  He retrieved it well and we shot several photos.  A nice retrieve on a pintail a short time later and Gator was now officially a duck dog.

Over the course of four hunts Gator got nearly 50 retrieves in a variety of situations.  He got better with each and every hunt.  One highlight occurred with two ducks left for a two-man limit at 9:30 a.m.  A drake redhead and drake canvasback came screaming into our spread and Jim and I dropped them both.  Gator had beads on each and a nice double finished up a perfect morning. 

I'd give Gator an A- for his overall efforts on his first few hunts.  I didn't think I could ever have another dog that could compare to ol' Mag as he was a good one.  I said I'd be pleased if Gator was 75 percent as good as his ol' man but he's got a legitimate shot to beat those odds.  He's still just a pup.  Sure, he's got some areas needing improvement but he's a quick study and digs duck hunting.  He's got a wonderful nose, desire and drive and I was a proud owner watching him work and develop. 

I bet his Daddy would be proud, too. 

IT'S ALL GOOD AT DUCK CAMP

Hunters and anglers enjoy a good road trip.   Getting out and away for a few days of rest and relaxation does a body and soul well.  And so it is the reason I look forward to our annual duck camp held at Cheyenne Bottoms Wildlife Area near Great Bend.

The Bottoms is 20,000 acres of wetland heaven.  Unfortunately, the nature of the beast doesn't allow wetlands to be wet every year.  But in what could be considered the biggest save in history the Bottoms has water in a couple units thanks to a storage pool and other work done years ago for just such an emergency.  The fact it has ANY water at all after 50+ days of 100-degree-plus temperatures and no rain is nothing short of a miracle.

Our main objective at duck camp is to shoot ducks.  But it's also about big fires, good food and friends and maybe a power nap or two.  The aesthetics of such a place is almost worth the trip in itself.  We see many species of ducks, geese, shorebirds and other wildlife like deer, turkeys, snakes, turtles, skunks and raccoons. 

Our day starts at around 5 a.m. with a wake-up call and we're out the door of my camper by 5:30 a.m.  We launch the boat at about 6 a.m. and motor to our spot and set up with 20 or 30 minutes left until shooting time.  All the sounds of the marsh are amplified as the sun begins to glow in the east. 

Ducks were plentiful enough to make things interesting last weekend.  We shot pintails, gadwalls, widgeon, teal, coots and a few different species of divers over the course of our stay.  We'd hunt 'til late morning and then return to camp and cook a breakfast outdoors the Waffle House would be proud to serve. 

We'd clean ducks and tidy up our gear and camp.  The next couple hours might involve a good snooze falling asleep listening to the Cottonwood leaves rustle in the wind.  Now refreshed a fire was the order of business and a few snacks and drinks would precede some good eats.  After dinner the fire was stoked big enough to see from space as we relaxed listening to screech and great-horned owls, white-fronted geese and sandhill cranes. 

The next day we'd do it again. 

It's all good at duck camp.

24/7 EYES

Nature enthusiasts have found a way to watch the wilderness without even being there.  In particular, deer hunters can scout areas for weeks without as much as an hour in a treestand.  Since the advent of trail cameras the sportsmen and women can keep tabs on their spots from afar.

Trail cameras run the gamut as far as price.  Many are at least affordable now as competition is keen among manufacturers and more companies have joined production with their own version.  This is beneficial to consumers and trail cameras now can be purchased for as little as $50 with other models still costing several hundred. 

Some of the factors to consider when purchasing a trail camera include price, trigger speed, ease of operation, battery life and mounting choices.  Trigger speed is important unless the animal is stationary as shots can be missed on moving deer.  Another factor unfortunately considered nowadays is the potential for theft.  Trail cameras are difficult to secure adequately and unscrupulous individuals may walk off with one.  It's a problem on public wildlife areas but private lands aren't exempt, either.

Swapping out cards on a trail camera equals the feeling of a kid at Christmas.  You can't wait to get home and see what you've got waiting once you plug it into the computer.  Oftentimes, it's usually the run of the mill deer photos.  Much of the activity takes place at night but flash or infrared photography light up the scene.  If it's not deer, occasionally you see furbearers and other natural odds and ends.  People in Kansas using trail cameras have even recorded a couple mountain lions and an elk or two.  Millions and millions of images are shot each year in Kansas.

Trail cameras are valuable scouting tools.  They show when deer are using a particular area and future hunts can be planned accordingly.  They also show when you SHOULD have been in a stand.  Several years ago I attended a friend's daughter's wedding and about the time she was saying "I Do" a big buck said "I Did" and with plenty of shooting time left walked right by the tree I would have been sitting in. 

I never saw the buck and she's still married so I guess most involved consider it a happy ending!

   

FALL FISHING

Many outdoorsmen are gearing up for fall hunting seasons.  However, those that aren't big hunters, or realize how good fall fishing can be, are still chasing many species that swim.  Fall fishing can be some of the best of the year.

Crappie are popular now.  These fish start to school up and concentrate on areas like dams and rocky rip-rap or in brush piles.  Minnows can still catch fish but jigs, 1/8 or 1/4-ounce, often work just as well.  Many crappie are caught in 12-20 feet of water. As the water gets colder, fishing often gets better.  The most important advice is not to spend too long on unproductive water.  Keep looking until a pattern develops and then duplicate it. 

Channel cat fishing is still going strong and often does well into November.  Many reservoirs have a tradition of baiting or chumming and this technique works even when waters cool.  Cut baits drifted across mud flats work, too.  

Other species such as walleye, white bass, smallmouth and largemouth bass are all strapping on the feed bag getting ready for winter.  Lots of shad are still available and baits that resemble dead or dying shad often elicit strikes from any number of species of predatory fish.

Fall is a great time to fish.  Keep safety in mind as a solo fall into chilly water can turn deadly.  Tell someone where you are going and when you plan to return.  The weather is cool and the pleasure boats and jet skis have been stowed away for the winter so it's often a solitary experience.  On some days the only company you might have are all the gulls and pelicans that inhabit our reservoirs in the fall on their migration.   

Good luck!

JUST DUCKY

I can remember the first game bird I ever killed as a youngster with my Dad.  It was a pond-ridden scaup and after several errant shots from a single shot .410 I finally got it.  I was proud as could be and at just 9 years old the mold was set.

It's nearly four decades later and I've been introducing my twin boys to the joys of hunting.  Although they've killed several turkeys since age 7, it's only been in the last couple years I've trusted their physical ability to safely handle a shotgun on flying game.  Doves have been plentiful and they've managed to bag a few, albeit at Dad's expense as shells have been counted in boxes rather than singles.  That's okay. 

Their first duck hunt came last weekend during the youth season of the Low Plains Early Duck Zone.  We hauled my duck boat I've affectionately named "Cluster Duck" out to Cheyenne Bottoms Saturday afternoon.  Water isn't plentiful but an early teal season out there proved there were ducks using the area and hunters found good success.  I looked forward to showing them something I've cherished for many years.

We were the only boat on the pool at 3:30 p.m. when we launched.  We flushed plenty of ducks and the boys were amazed how my Go-Devil mud motor just cut right through the weeds and mud.  We looked around before picking a spot where we flushed a big wad of teal, pintails and mallards.  I wasn't totally prepared for a blind as early season cover there usually isn't a problem, but we made do with some grass mats I brought along.

The ducks didn't move for quite some time.  I was getting K-State/Baylor football score updates from several buddies via text so it helped pass the time.  The ducks finally started to move and the boys got a few cracks at their first ducks.  Cody was first on the board with a bluewing teal and his brother, Brandon, followed shortly after with one of the same.  Shots weren't plentiful, but they managed better percentages than they ever had for doves.  They liked ducks a LOT better as they were "slower, bigger and easier to hit!" 

The evening ended with a beautiful sunset.  Cody tallied three bluewing teal on his strap and Brandon had two pintails and two bluewing teal.  I was pleasantly surprised, and proud, of their shooting and considered their first hunt a huge success.  Our plan was to stay the night in Great Bend if we had good luck so we headed to town, grabbed some dinner and a motel to eat and watch football.

The next morning was a bit chilly.  Forty-seven degrees with a 15 mph breeze made the boys shiver a little bit on the ride out to the marsh.  We set up in the same place and waited for daylight.  We saw lots of ducks but had fewer opportunities than the previous evening.  Fortunately, the sun warmed the boys up a bit and they still managed to shoot a few ducks.  Cody killed two bluewing and a greenwing teal and Brandon shot a pintail. 

There were 10-12 trucks in the parking lot this morning and I was glad to see others taking advantage of the youth season.  From the sounds of it, they were getting plenty of shooting and the occasional downed duck would be obvious with all the whooping and hollering.

As we headed back home, the boys nestled into coat pillows and reclined truck seats for a nap.  I'd glance over at them sleeping peacefully and I felt truly blessed.  It was a joy to share this experience with my boys.  This was one of the things I'd looked forward to being a father.  I hope they enjoyed it as much as I did.  I also hope they're fortunate enough to share the same kind of experience with their kids a couple decades down the road.        

BEST LAID PLAN...NOT!

Usually, I'm pretty good about planning things out when it comes to traveling during one of my outdoor adventures.  Although it's easy to forget things when you're hauling boats, dogs, kids, gear, etc., I generally have it covered.  But every once in a while things don't go according to plan.  My recent weekend was one example. 

I went to Melvern Reservoir this weekend to fish with a buddy in a small gathering of Kansas Walleye Association members, friends and family.  We planned to spend the night Saturday and fish Sunday, too.  So after a delicious meal Saturday evening of fried fish with plenty of fixin's, I decided it was time to blow up my bed I'd use in the back of my truck.  It was a new one and prior to leaving home I tried to find the dimensions on the box to make sure it would fit between the wheel wells of the truck bed.  There were no dimensions and I reasoned...surely, it will fit.  NOT! 

As it inflated it I knew I was in trouble.  It would barely fit the bed, let alone between the fender wells.  Plan B was to throw it out on the ground and sleep under the stars.  But as the wind picked up and the sun set, I thought that might be a bit too chilly.  So at about 9:30 p.m., and darker than dark, I decided to put up the tent I brought. 

The tent was also new and I'd never put it together.  I positioned my truck so the headlights would help illuminate my work space.  The tent was a pain.  After 10 minutes or so my truck lights would go off automatically to keep the battery from running down.  That's all fine and dandy but I had to turn them back on three or four times to get the stupid tent up. 

Next order of business was to put my nice, new blow-up bed in the tent.  Well I can tell you from experience a queen size blow-up bed will not fit through the door of a Coleman Expedition 2-3-person tent (which is a misnomer...you could share it with ONE person, but it better be someone you're intimate with as there's a good chance you'd have body parts touching all night long).  So, I had to partially deflate the bed enough to fold it to get it in the door of the tent and then inflate again once inside.  It's getting late by now and my mood isn't good. 

I go to start my truck to move it and it won't crank.  Yes, I was too stupid to simply start and let my truck run while I needed the headlights.  Dead battery.  Another guy in camp has a battery charger and we hook it up and let it go overnight.

I sleep rather well despite my troubles.  But when I woke up at 6:30 a.m. I tried to figure out every way possible to avoid getting out of a really warm sleeping bag to pee.  When it got to the point I couldn't roll over in my cozy bag without feeling like I'd pee my pants I crawled out into the cool, brisk air.  

It was a wonderful morning. I went to start my truck to head to the restroom and it wouldn't crank.  The charger connection continued my wonderful string of good luck.  NOT!  After jumping it I was good to go and fortunately made it. 

I tore down the tent and deflated my air bed.  I may have cussed both a bit as I threw them in the truck.  And then we went fishing and things got better.  Although the fishing wasn't fantastic, we did catch nearly 30 keeper-sized crappie.  But I won't remember the fishing as much as I will my screwed up sleeping arrangements.  Sometimes the best laid plans aren't even close.      

   

GROWING UP RIGHT

More and more kids today are often far removed from the natural world.  Rural Kansas has given way to urban existence in many cases for one reason or another.  Many of today's youth aren't afforded the same exposure to the outdoors as decades ago.  It's sad, really.

But there are still kids who grow up in the country.  Their backyard is the world's coolest playground where they're free to roam woods and waters.  They learn about how nature works actually being part of it rather than something they see on the Disney Channel.  They're more comfortable with a fishing rod or .22 rifle in their hands rather than a video game controller.  That's reassuring to me.

I got the pleasure to meet one such youngster last weekend.  A buddy and I were fishing at Melvern Reservoir as part of a small get together of Kansas Walleye Association members, friends and family.  Although generally hardcore about toothy critters most were chasing crappie this weekend.  On Sunday young Zach Larson jumped in the boat with us.  He was impressed with my buddy's Ranger boat and looked forward to going "really fast."

Over the next few hours I got to know Zach.  He lives in the country with plenty of room to fish, hunt and trap.  He was more at ease with a fishing rod in his hands than many adults I've seen.  And his knowledge of the outdoors was even more impressive.  We talked about trapping, duck and goose hunting, deer hunting, squirrel and rabbit hunting and fishing for many species of fish in ponds and creeks.  He knew his stuff and was articulate, polite and knowledgeable well beyond his years. 

Zach caught the first crappie and it was a good one.  I caught the next one and teased him that mine was MUCH bigger, although in reality they were nearly identical.  He had a good sense of humor and laughed at my good-natured ribbing.  Our day's tally was 27 keeper-sized crappie.  We had a good time and although fishing was slow Zach seemed to have a good time.  I did, too. 

As we were stowing rods and gear I asked Zach if he liked video games to which he replied, "Nah, I think they're pretty boring...I'd rather be fishing or hunting."

Now that's my kind of kid.  He's growing up right.  I wish the world had more kids just like him.      

THAT'S A FAIR QUESTION

Well, I've been absent for a couple weeks now but I have a good excuse.  I've been busy with the 2011 Kansas State Fair and our KDWPT display in Hutchinson.  It pretty much ties up the first few weeks in September for me.  It's one of the more popular displays and staffed primarily by our law enforcement division and employees from Pratt and other areas.  

I really don't mind the fair, but after 22 years hanging out there for the majority of the time, I'm really glad to see it go by the time it's over.  I enjoy chatting with people for the most part and visitors are genuinely interested in many of KDWPT's programs and projects.  Most questions are informational in nature, and some even offer up the occasional "atta boy" for something the department has done or is doing.  And of course, we get plenty of complaints, too.  That just goes with the territory. 

Questions run the gamut.  The two most popular are likely about hunter education requirements and license requirements for those 65 years of age or older.  This year there were plenty of questions about blue-green algae concerns as well as how the drought has affected the upland bird populations.  Sitting at the fair talking to landowners I get a bit of a feel for the latter and many areas may be down this year.  But the good news is bird numbers are resilient and under the right conditions don't take long to bounce back. 

And of course there's always mountain lion sightings and stories.  I would imagine over the years I've got reports from every corner of all Kansas' 105 counties.  People still seem upset that KDWPT won't "admit" their stories are true.  I don't know we've ever said they weren't, just that they couldn't be substantiated with any concrete evidence.  I don't know a single KDWPT employee who ever said Kansas had no mountain lions.  Fortunately, several lions have been documented in the last couple years and much of the talk of their presence, transient or otherwise, has died down.

One of the funniest questions I've ever received happened years ago.  We used to have live animals and would feature quail, fox, pheasants and even a fawn deer most years.  The animals were always popular and the young whitetail was always a hit.  Only a few months old it would generally still have spots and a gangly look to it.  One year a guy walked by and said, "Is that the same fawn you had here last year?"

And he wasn't kidding.  Now that's a fair question.

     

    

DOZENS OF DOVES

September 1st is here and that means the initial kick-off to the fall hunting seasons.  Dove hunters will be out in full force the next couple days.  Interest is high as it's been a long summer waiting on fall.  Dove numbers look good this year and if this morning is any indication there shouldn't be any problem finding a few doves.

A buddy, Jim Reid, and I took advantage of a Kansas Department of Wildlife, Parks and Tourism managed dove field.  They're scattered around all over the state and dove hunters can find out where and how to get to various ones by checking at http://www.kdwpt.state.ks.us/.  Managed dove fields typically include sunflowers or wheat and either can be incredible under the right conditions.  Much of the success or failure of some of these plots is at the mercy of Mother Nature.  This year it seems she's cooperated and rain hasn't been an issue, at least in south central Kansas.

We arrived at 6 a.m. and there were already 22 vehicles in the parking lot and on the road.  We picked up our survey cards and eased into the darkness knowing more hunters would be rolling in as shooting time approached. We donned bug spray and shooting glasses and waited for it to get light.

A few shots signaled the start of the 2011 season and it wasn't long and the barrage began.  Doves came from all directions and I had to pass on dozens of shots where the doves were too low resulting in a dangerous shot under crowded conditions.  But picking and choosing my angles and options I began to knock a few doves from the sky.

The morning was beautiful and as peaceful as could be under the circumstances.  More doves kept coming and before long I needed to count to double-check my mental tally.  I was just easing into a second box when I killed my 15th dove at about 7:15 a.m.  I picked up my stool, hulls and doves and made my way to Jim's location.

He was excited and happy about the morning's prospects.  We marveled at the number of doves we'd seen and still flying.  He had about 12 birds in his pile when I arrived and I told him I'd play bird dog and retrieve his remaining birds.  It wasn't long and he had his limit, too.

We talked over a big breakfast back at town.  The morning was a huge success and despite the crowded conditions everyone seemed to get along.  I have to think if you could hit your butt with both hands you could have shot a limit of doves with as many birds as were flying.  It was a perfect plan on a beautiful morning and KDWPT personnel should be proud of their efforts on behalf of Kansas' sportsmen and women.    

The success of this project won't last too long as is the case with Kansas' dove season in general.  A majority of the birds are killed the first week or 10 days of the season and then our harvest figures fall way off.  But by then I'll have my fill and it will be time to look forward to the next item on fall's hunting calendar.

 

GETTIN' CHUMMY WITH IT

Catfish anglers are a unique bunch.  Many aren't fancy and there's not near the glitz and glamour of gear or gadgets associated with more "prestigious" species like bass or walleye.  But in the same breath catfish anglers are some of the most dedicated anglers out there.  Catfish remain near or at the top in angler preference so there's no doubt they're popular.

One technique catching on in recent years is chumming.  Long thought to be illegal by some, chumming involves placing an attractant in the water with hopes of attracting fish.  Some "chum holes" have fancy names like the "Hawg Trough" at Perry Reservoir.  Peak days may find dozens of boats in the same area.  Other reservoirs have their own and it can work on most any body of water.

I've been chumming for a few years now and enjoy it.  I was never a fan of sitting and watching lines but fishing from a boat we fish vertical, much like we do for walleye or crappie.  I like that approach and the smallest of "ticks" occasionally results in the biggest of fish. 

Rotten grain like soybeans, milo, wheat or corn are popular choices for chum.  Placed in a bucket covered with water for a few days in the summer will have your neighbors to the north crying foul.  Be careful when you take the lid off as the stench could gag a maggot.  But that's exactly what catfish love and I'd bet they'd come running if they had legs.

Some of my hardcore walleye friends laugh at me when I talk about catfishing.  But I often have nieces and nephews, my kids, neighbors and others in the boat when we chum.  It's a great way to catch a bunch of catfish.  Now is the perfect time of year to do it.  I went last Sunday and even on a slow day two buddies and I ended up with 14 nice channel catfish up to about 8 pounds.  It's a great, although somewhat smelly, way to enjoy the Kansas outdoors.

YOU CAN HAVE THIS RECORD

Typically, when talks turn to breaking records it's a good thing of sorts.  But in the case of the sweltering summer heat many Kansans have been experiencing I'd just as soon not drag this out any longer.  It's getting old and it's time for a change.

We've tied a record in south central Kansas with 46 days over 100 degrees.  That hasn't happened since 1980.  I've forgot about that summer and I would like to forget this one, too.  But all Mother Nature needs is the roaster on high for another five days and we break the all-time record that's stood since 1936.  

While it's never too hot to fish, this heat takes a toll on anglers.  If there's no breeze you can forget seeing me on an all-day fishing trip.  We like to go early and wrap things up by lunch or so.  Beyond that it's not much fun to me to sit and roast.

And even evening fishing can be brutally hot.  On several camping trips this summer the temperatures were still in the high 90's after the sun set.  That should be illegal.  Regardless, my two boys were down on the bank having success catching plenty of channel catfish fishing from shore.  But it just didn't seem right to see them drenched in sweat at 10 p.m.

It looks like by weekend's end we may have a shot at the 1936 record of hottest summer on record.  Fine, whatever, let's get it over with and get on with it.  It's time for fall.  Thank God we have a change of season in Kansas and I'm ready for it.  Bring on the ducks, a little frost, a morning when you can see your breath and let the leaves fall where they may. 

Now let's hope we don't set any records for most days below freezing.  I wouldn't be a fan of that record, either.  I'm good with average, run-of-the-mill temperatures and these are records I can do without.       
 

SHE THINKS WE'RE JUST FISHING

Trace Adkins' latest music video shows him and his youngest daughter, Trinity, fishing and the song is aptly titled "She Thinks We're Just Fishing."  Trace admits the song is about being a Dad and spending time with your children.  Fishing is just an avenue to do it.

I'm lost in her there holding that pink rod and reel...
I say Daddy loves you baby one more time...
And all this laughing, crying, smiling, dying here inside...
Is what I call living...
She ain't even thinking 'bout what's really going on right now...
But I guarantee this memory's a big'un...
And she thinks we're just fishing...

These are just a few lines of a song that hits really close to home.  My daughter, Ashley, was 2 1/2 years old when she caught her first fish and I remember it like it was yesterday.  Over the years we've been on many fishing trips together and they've all been special. 

But in just the blink of an eye she grew up.  Last weekend I moved her and a truckload of her stuff off to her first year of college.  I wonder where time went.  I miss her already and she's only been gone a few days.

Looking back I'm thankful we spent so much time together.  Those memories are tucked away and will always be there. I get choked up every time I hear Adkins' song now and Ashley teases me about it.  They're powerful words about the relationship between a daughter and a Dad.  I'm really glad we went fishing.     

SIBLING RIVALRY

Those with brothers or sisters growing up likely remember some form of sibling rivalry.  Kids today probably aren't too different in that they are often aware of what the other has be it tennis shoes, the particular size of a piece of pie to something as mundane as who gets to ride shotgun.  Sports makes for easy enough rivalries and you even see some of it outdoors hunting or fishing.

My twin 12-year-old boys aren't terribly competitive with one another.  There's plenty of sibling rivalry but it isn't over the top crazy.  They're generally pretty good kids who do well in school and mind my wife and I most of the time.  If they'd just learn to pick up after themselves there's a good chance we'll keep them.   

On our fishing trips they often keep track of (unlike where they left their shoes, homework, drink or television remote) the number of fish they catch.  They generally say it's just so they'll know, but in reality it's likely to see if they one-upped the other.  I guess even adult anglers fall into that category on occasion.   

If I'm lucky, the fishing is good enough they lose track.  It's easy to keep tabs on a handful of fish but much harder to mentally tally 30 or 40.  If they lose track much of the individual rivalry is gone and the focus becomes the fishing.  Such was the case on the first trip to a new pond earlier this summer.

A friend got us permission to fish and the landowners were gracious hosts.  We got to the pond with a few hours of daylight remaining.  The boys waded the shallows and each cast a spinnerbait.  We fished quite a while before they got any kind of pattern going and then the action heated up as they learned to discern a bite from moss.  As the sun set, each boy was catching bass in several year-class sizes almost on every cast.  It was fun to watch and I'm guessing they caught 50-60 bass between them  It was a beautiful night regardless the tally and fish up to nearly 4 pounds will live in their memory banks for a long time.

The boys caught plenty of bass.  They chattered non-stop on the way home about how much fun they'd had, their nearly-bloody thumbs and the ones that got away.  The sibling rivalry was ALMOST forgotten.  But since they couldn't argue numbers, talk turned to the BIGGEST fish of the evening.  "My bass could eat your bass!" one said jokingly.

I guess boys will always be boys and sibling rivalry, in one form or another, is alive and well!   

MINNOW SMACKDOWN

I love fishing for crappie.  I love the thump and I love how they taste.  There's not much I don't like about pursuing a tasty slab.  Over the years I'd consider myself a jig fisherman, but really have no qualms about using live bait either.  And in the summertime minnows just might be the ticket to loading a boat with lots of crappie.

I got to know Eric Sher through another crappie story on spider rigging I did with Nick Neff.  Both are avid crappie anglers and there's no shortage of slabs in either of their boats.  During the summer, Eric has been using quite a few minnows and done REALLY well.  A couple Saturdays ago Eric was kind enough to invite me along for a fishing trip to Melvern Reservoir for a little experiment I had in mind.

Eric would use minnows while I would use nothing but a jig.  We'd try the straight-up debate to see whether live bait could outfish a jig.  While I'm not the best jig fisherman, I'm no slouch, either.  But on this day I'd quickly discover just how productive the real thing can be.

Only 30 minutes into the first brush pile my destiny was set.  Eric had caught 25 fish with four of these longer than the reservoir's 10-inch minimum length limit.  Me?  I caught four fish with two keepers.  But the kicker was that I was getting as many, or even more, hits on my jig.  The fish just weren't sucking in or holding on to my offering.  But once they gummed Eric's minnow, they were generally coming to the boat.

Eric Sher and the "Minnows Rule!" experiment.

The next few hours provided more of the same.  Eric caught tons of fish, most of which were shorts, but the minnows were definitely producing more fish.  When the dust settled after about five hours of fishing Eric had tallied 111 total fish with 13 keepers.  I caught 31 fish with eight keepers.  My only accolade of the day was I had two of the three largest fish. 

But to show you our little experiment wasn't REALLY scientifically accurate, Eric called on my way home and said we actually had 26 fish in the livewell, rather than our mentally-tallied 21.  We laughed about our mistake realizing it's really hard to keep track of fast fishing.  I imagine most of the "extra" keepers were Eric's since he had the most reason for confusion due to his sheer numbers.  I told him he had to throw the jig guy at least one bone and let me claim one additional keeper.

It was a neat experiment on a beautiful morning.  Eric was a gracious host and didn't even brag about whipping my tail.  There's no doubt minnows can catch fish and I won't be ashamed to grab a few for future summer trips. 

DECISIONS, DECISIONS

I love catching fish...period.  Sure, I have my favorites but for a relaxing day on the water I really don't care too much what is pulling back from beneath the water's surface.  Consistent action is tough to beat and when you have to make a choice as to which species to chase it makes matters more difficult.

A friend of mine, Jim Bybee, invited me to El Dorado Reservoir last night.  Bybee is a jig-fishing machine and there aren't many more adept with a jig pole.  But in addition to crappie, Bybee and his friends had been catching some nice white bass, too.  Thus, the dilemma of what to pursue. 

Jim's son, Cody, a fishing chip off the old block himself, loves to catch white bass so that's where we started.  Jigging spoons  in 18-25 feet of water were the ticket and we caught quite a few, plus a bunch of 4-6-inch white perch which we all hated to see.  Cody had evening plans so we had to run him back to the ramp after an hour or so. 

Pulling back out into the lake Jim asked if I wanted to try some crappie.  I like catching white bass but I had some new fish breading I was anxious to try and crappie are perfect for most any eating experiment. 

We found some really nice crappie in 21-24 feet of water.  Just as we got a pattern going the northerly winds increased in intensity as the front approached and storms started to build.  Fishing a 1/8-ounce jig in water that deep in high winds is difficult at best.  But we stayed with it and before long had a nice mess of 20-25 crappie.  Nearly all of them were between 12 and 14 1/2 inches.

We called it an evening as the sun started to set. We wondered aloud "what if" had the wind stayed calm. That just gives us more incentive to plan another trip in the future. But the white bass might have to wait their turn after seeing some of those slabs flopping on the surface! They'll look the same way in some hot grease....tasty!

FEEDING FRENZY

Late summer can be a tough time to catch fish.  Shad are just bite-sized right now providing a virtual swim-by buffet for most any species of predatory fish.  But anglers willing to take advantage of this feeding frenzy are often rewarded with plenty of action.  Such was the case this past weekend on our camping trip to Marion Reservoir.

My boys and I tried for some catfish on the usual catfish chum holes to no avail.  It didn't seem like much was going on so by mid-morning I was itching to try something different.  We decided to pull some spinners in an attempt to catch some walleye.

And although we would eventually catch some walleye, they were beaten to the punch almost each and every time by hungry white bass.  Each boy had nice whites on nearly immediately on the first drop and the action would slow the shallower I got.  Each trip back out to our starting point produced bunches of fish on spinner rigs designed for walleye but apparently just as tasty to white bass.

Despite what some may say, I'm no dummy and told the boys we should try spooning and casting to these white bass on the start of our run.  I hit the anchor lock on my I-Pilot trolling motor and rigged up three poles.  Two had Cicada spoons on them while the other had a 1/4-ounce jig with a SuperFluke, Jr.  Figuring the spoons would be more productive, I gave those to the boys.  But on Brandon's first cast he got a big tangle in his rod so I gave him my rod rigged with the Fluke, Jr.  I'd never get it back.

Brandon caught a fish on the very first cast on it.  And Cody was right there with him.  Numerous times they had doubles, and when I was fishing, even triples.  The action was steady and non-stop.  Each fish brought into the boat was a flopping, wiggling, squirming mess.  In the midst of the their tantrums they'd fling regurgitated shad all over the place.

I reasoned that a big school of whites ranging in size from 8 inches to nearly 2 pounds were feasting on shad pushed into the side of a break in about 7 feet of water.  A stiff breeze was blowing in making the fishing good and the 105 degree day tolerable.  Over the next couple hours, we figured we caught well over 100 white bass of all sizes, both casting and fishing vertically.  All were pitched back into the water and many left me a tip for my generosity in the form of half-eaten shad. 

By about 12:30 p.m., I was ready to go despite the boys pleas to stay longer.  I wasn't hot, or tired or bored.  I was hungry!  With two, little 12-year-old chow-hounds in the boat they had eaten everything we had for breakfast and never saved Dad a crumb.  A box of honey buns, crackers, you name it, GONE!  They reminded me of a big school of white bass on a feeding frenzy!

But the boys knew we'd be back out.  And despite their annihilation of my breakfast goodies, they admitted they could probably eat a little something, too!  However, they were kind enough not to fling any regurgitated honey buns around in my boat.  And that's a good thing!     

GETTIN' FROGGY WITH IT

Kermit wouldn't have had much fun in Harvey County last weekend.  In fact, he would have been running and jumping for his life.  An entire herd of frog-catching enthusiasts that included kids as young as 7 years old to adults descended upon several ponds for a frog grabbing fiesta.

This get-together has become somewhat of an annual event organized by several friends.  Since my boys were old enough to wander around much they've invited us to participate.  It's a great time with anywhere from 15-30 people most years.  The evening starts with a wonderful beast feast of fried fish, frog legs, duck kabobs and all the fixin's.  Tall tales are told and the kids run around fishing, playing washers and enjoying the great outdoors.

The main event starts shortly after dark.  Armed with flashlights and mesh sacks, teams of froggers head off into the darkness.  Only hand to web-footed combat is allowed with no gigs or nets used. Adults, high school and college-aged kids are on their own and head to a huge watershed pond.   Youngsters like my twin 12-year-old boys and a couple others still have adult supervision.  They've been dubbed the FFA (Future Froggers of America) and get to hunt their own smaller pond. 

The evening was a huge success.  Drought conditions made visuals on bullfrogs easy and some grabbed were nearly as big as a Chihuahua.  It was discovered the next day when they were cleaned that one of the larger ones had a baby bird in its stomach!  Dozens of frogs were bagged and sacks grew heavy.  My two boys were proud of their catch of eight frogs with plenty more that got away. 

A few run-ins with snapping turtles and giant water snakes added even more excitement to a truly fun-filled evening.  Sure, some participants lost tennis shoes, got cut-up, bug-bit and bruised.  Anything wrong with the evening will soon be forgotten when they all remember how much fun it was to chase Kermit's relatives all over the pond.

CARP QUEEN

A trip to the lake is always fun and when you catch the species you're after it's even better.  However, when that species doesn't cooperate it's not all bad if something else fills the fish-less void.  And even if a giant carp has to make the trip more tolerable I guess I have to deal with it. 

I recently took my sister and her family to Marion Reservoir for a catfishing adventure.  Reports were good and anticipation was high, despite an early morning departure of 6 a.m.  But after only a couple catfish would cooperate it was obvious my crew was losing interest. 

So enter a few big ol' carp.  They're nasty critters as far as I'm concerned but to novice anglers they put a whopper of a bend in a rod and fight like crazy.  That's really all one could expect and half the fun is in the battle no matter what's on the end of the line.

My sister caught a monstrous carp and my niece and nephew caught a few smaller ones, too.  It was the only saving grace to a day filled with little catfish success.  And even though it's considered a "trash fish" by some there's one giant member of the minnow family in particular that will be remembered for a long time.  It trashed my boat and earned my sister the title of "carp queen" for a day...maybe longer. 

QUICK STUDY

Walleye fishing comes easy to some, but often it's a matter of finding a successful pattern and duplicating it.  But to those new to jig-and-nightcrawler fishing, trolling crankbaits or pulling spinner rigs, none are easy methods to learn.  It often takes plenty of practice and the fun of fishing for anything is figuring things out.  My 14-year-old nephew, Dylan, got a crash course in one popular walleye fishing technique this past weekend. 

The walleye bite at Clinton Reservoir had been going strong since the first of July.  A buddy had been catching plenty of 'eyes and didn't mind Dylan and I joining him last weekend for an early morning trip.  We were on the water by 6:30 a.m. hoping for the best.  I sat in the middle of the boat and instructed Dylan on the finer points of pulling spinners.  He took charge of our two rods in the back.  He got hands-on experience as I left most of the responsibility up to him.  He soon learned what to look for in a hit, how much line to let out and when to check his bait. 

But for the first two hours he learned nothing of actually CATCHING a fish.  Not even a dink.  It didn't look good and my buddy wondered aloud if a good thing had come to an end.  But we were planning to fish at least 'til noon anyway and kept after it.  Dylan probably wasn't real impressed with this "new to him" way of fishing.

But as is the case sometimes, for whatever reason, the fish started biting.  And they bit well.  Over the course of the next three hours we kept 12 walleye and a sauger between 15 inches and 5 pounds.  Dylan was digging it and admitted he liked this way of fishing.  I don't know if he meant pulling spinners or catching big, mouth-watering-sized walleye.  Didn't matter what he meant as we were having fun.

Dylan got the hang of running the rods, net and baiting hooks.  He learned a lot in a short time.  He never complained once about the heat, slow start or being hungry.  He was a good student for sure and he's looking forward to the next class no matter the lesson.

OLD DOG, NEW TRICK

If I added up all the hours of my free time I spend hunting or fishing, I'd have several Ph. D's-worth of experience.  But despite all those hours I'll be the first to admit I don't know everything.  Not even close and I have plenty of room for improvement.  I've found when you talk about or join others hunting or fishing there's plenty to learn and I'm always eager to do so.  Such was the case recently when I jumped in the boat with Nick Neff, an avid angler from Springhill, for a crash-course in spider rigging crappie. 

Nick Neff and Eric Sher with some spider-rigged Hillsdale crappie

Nick admits he fishes only to have something to do between duck seasons.  There's obviously plenty of time in that "off-season." He's taken advantage of it and his livewell is rarely empty when he chooses to keep a few tasty slabs.  His buddy, Eric Sher, joined us one afternoon last weekend as we jumped in the boat at Hillsdale Reservoir with the temperature hovering around 103 degrees.

The fishing was just as hot.  It wasn't long and Nick, Eric and even I was catching bunches of crappie on 10-12-foot long rods.  A tail-hooked minnow was irresistible to more than 150 crappie that evening.  Most went back in the lake but we had at least 40 that exceeded the lake's 10-inch minimum length limit. 

I learned a lot about spider rigging in just five hours.  Nick was a great teacher and anxious to share his techniques and tactics which work really well.  He and Eric enjoyed catching fish and being on the water.  The only thing more impressive than their fish-catching ability was their enthusiasm for the outdoors.  They truly enjoyed it.

I enjoyed it, too.   It's all good in the end and I'm proof positive you can teach an old dog new tricks.       

KIND WORDS

It's not often people in a hustle and bustle busy world stop to chat.  More concerned with the next item on busy "to do" lists, greetings and personal exchanges are usually brief, particularly among strangers.  But every once in a while someone is out-of-the-ordinary friendly and genuine.  In a "reality television world" it's nice when someone is sincere.  I recently had an encounter that made me think there's still hope for a kinder, gentler society than what we often see or read about in today's world.

I had just picked up some catfishing supplies from a small, local sporting goods store on my lunch hour.  As I headed for the door I noticed an older, unassuming gentleman in a wheelchair sitting nearby.  I nodded and said, "Hello" as I passed.

He responded with, "How's your new puppy doing?" 

I stopped in my tracks.

I've written several articles about the passing of my beloved black Lab, Mag, last summer.  I've also chronicled the challenges of starting a puppy, one of his offspring, in the ways of retriever training.  I assumed this gentleman had read some of those articles.

"He's doing well," I said as I turned around.  "He's got a ways to go to catch up to his ol' man, though."

"I'm sorry to hear about your old dog," he said with compassion.

We chatted for a bit about dogs, fishing and the like.  Although our conversation was brief it was truly refreshing as well as rewarding.  The gentleman was pleasant and sincere.  And the fact he initiated a conversation to talk about something near-and-dear to me was indeed humbling.   

 

FAMILY FISHING

Fishing with my own kids is fun and I enjoy every minute of it.  However, it's always nice to share and after hearing lots of good fishing reports from previous trips my niece and nephew, Shyanne and Dylan, and sister, Chari Osterhaus, were anxious to join me and my boys this past weekend at Marion Reservoir.  It was our first camping trip of the summer all together so anticipation was high, despite the early wake-up call, when we launched at 6:30 a.m.

We targeted a well-known chum hole and dropped anchors.  It was a nice morning as I baited every one's hook, a task which keeps me busy with five others in my boat.  Shyanne hooked the first fish of the morning and excitement was high.  Dylan was next on the board with another feisty channel catfish. 

The fishing wasn't fast and furious by any definition.  However, we were catching enough and missing plenty more bites to keep things interesting.  Over the course of the next few hours we managed to put 19 cats in the livewell weighing between 3 and 5 pounds.  We called it a morning about 11 a.m. when the temperature started soaring, kids were getting hungry and the girls in the boat had to find a restroom.

Both Shyanne and Dylan were busy snapping photos on their cell phones to share with their friends when we got back to camp.  We took a couple groups shots and it was nice to see the smile on everyones' faces holding up a couple fish.  It's always fun to share the experience.  The kids and my sister will remember the trip each time they sit down to a fried catfish dinner.  They're already looking forward to our next outing in a couple weeks.  Hopefully, it will be worth the wait. 

RIGHTEOUS ROADTRIP

I've always liked the anticipation of looking forward to an outdoor excursion outside the usual here at home.  And my 12-year-old twin boys, Brandon and Cody, get even more fired-up as many of these junkets are their first-ever.  A buddy, Kent Dodds, was equally anxious when we departed last week headed to Lake Texoma for a little striper fishing.

Our guide, Travis Barker, picked us up at the dock at 5:30 a.m. the first morning in a boat more suited for the ocean but right at home on Texoma's 90,000 acres.  Outfitted with dual 250 hp Yamaha 4-strokes we were stylin' and it didn't take us long to get anywhere.  Our first spot didn't yield much, but it wasn't long and news of good fishing spread over the radio.  Many of the guides share information and there's usually plenty of fish to go around. 

Travis was a flurry of activity trying to keep our four rods in the water as fish bit nearly non-stop.  We used live threadfin shad he'd caught prior to picking us up and most times we fished them three to five cranks off the bottom.  Stripers typically don't mess around and sometimes hit like a freight train and then act like a runaway one when hooked.  My boys had no trouble discerning a hit and we all caught a mess of fish in a hurry.  Our limit of 40-fish (10 each) happened almost too fast as we were back at the dock, fish cleaned and headed back to our motel room by 8:30 a.m.

The next morning followed with similar results.  A large school of surfacing fish started the day and for whatever reason we caught bigger fish this day with several pushing 10 pounds.  Each angler is allowed two fish over 20 inches long in their daily creel and we had some nice ones.  Our 40-fish limit took a bit longer but we were still back at the dock well before the temperatures of 100-degree-plus days started sizzling. 

All four of us had a great time.  We spent more time on the road than we did fishing, but the overall experience was a package deal.  It's nice to do something different and I'm certain I'll have plenty of anxious participants should we do it again.