FARM POND FUN

Kansas is loaded with tens of thousands of farm ponds. Many of them provide fantastic fishing and some of the best bass fishing the state has to offer. I grew up in Topeka and wish I had a nickel for every bass I caught from ponds on a big ol' Mepps spinner. Simple, and extremely productive, fishing for sure and I enjoyed thousands of hours fishing ponds.

I loaded up my boys, daughter and her boyfriend, Adam, and we hit a nearby pond the other day. We had a friendly wager on the first fish, biggest and most fish. Ashley was the first one to holler "GOT ONE!" and she took "first fish" honors. Granted, it was only a 7-inch green sunfish but a fish is a fish and it was indeed the first. Shortly afterwards Adam caught a nice bass and had the "biggest" and was tied for "most." I enjoyed their success and figured I should start fishing, too.

It didn't take long and I, too, was catching fish. My boys were struggling to catch anything so I had them fish nearby. I'd hook a nice little 2-pound bass and open the bail and hand the rod to them. It wasn't quite the same as catching their own but they enjoyed the tussle and thought it cool when they jumped.

In the end, ol' dad took the "most" and "biggest" categories. But the real reward came watching the four of them walking around the pond's edge fishing, just like I used to do many moons ago. I look forward to more trips this spring just like it.

EASTER SKEET

Easter Sunday was nicer than predicted so I wanted to take advantage of the day. I've been meaning to get my 12-year-old twin boys to a gun range and let them shoot to practice on moving targets as they've never done it. They've dove hunted the last couple years and each managed to kill a few doves as we tried to work on their shooting skills with this on-the-job training of sorts. But as expected their kills versus attempts average was less than stellar.

The Ark Valley Gun Club was open for business so we hit the skeet range. The first targets were from station 7 on the low house and they were going straight away. Cody busted the first three out of five while Brandon struggled a bit. I worked on his mechanics and with further instruction he started to break targets. We threw a few from the high house and practiced left-to-right shots. Both boys broke many more targets doing this than I expected. Cody gained enough confidence he wanted to try a double and broke both on his second try.

Brandon and Cody absolutely loved shooting targets and shot three boxes of shells between them. Cody is already asking about a league or shoots geared just for kids. I knew they'd have fun but didn't expect they'd enjoy it that much. And since they're a little too old to hunt eggs any more it wasn't a bad way to spend a nice Easter afternoon.

MYSTERIOUS MUSHROOMS

There likely isn't an outdoor topic more mystified and talked about this time of year than morel mushrooms. There's a few weeks in the spring when fungus hunters all across the country start chat rooms buzzing with tales of finds. It seems those stories are in full swing in Kansas right now and 'shroom hunters are out in full force.

Many have their own theories on what makes it "prime time" for mushrooms to sprout. Certainly nighttime temperatures, sunlight, moisture and other weather-related factors are all discussed and used as barometers. Adding even more mystery is the areas where they're found, but that varies geographically in the state. Some swear by elm trees while others look for cottonwoods. Cedars are talked about in some locals and others find them in pastures.

The mysterious nature, coupled with the succulent flavor, of morel mushrooms makes them a prized possession. Throw in the commercial value, anywhere from $20-$50 a pound, and they're a valuable commodity. Good spots are guarded like family secrets and I have no doubt some honey-holes go to graves with die-hard mushroom hunters.

If I find enough for a meal or two I'm pleased. My kids seem to get a kick out of eating something found growing in nature and they equate it to the "Man versus Wild" craze. The window is short so if you've got a notion you better get to looking. It won't last long!

WHITE BASS ARE FUN

It's no secret that April is generally a month white bass angling enthusiasts anxiously await. Spawning fish make their journey up small rivers and creeks. They're readily accessible by boat or bank and if you catch one they're usually not alone.

But not all fish move into the tributaries. Many will stay in the reservoir and hang out on rocky points, dams and gravel shorelines. I found a bunch of them the other evening on a trip to Marion Reservoir. Casting a 1/8-ounce jig with a white, 3" YUM walleye grub I caught enough to lose count. The average-sized fish was a pound but I had at least a dozen that were 1 1/2 to 1 3/4 pounds. I kept 25, with a few fillets destined for a fresh meal for my family and the rest I gave to new neighbors who love fish. I probably pitched that many back and although the action wasn't fast it was steady. I wasn't alone as other anglers were having similar success.

Whether you're on a river or reservoir, catching a bunch of white bass is enjoyable. It's a good time. The good news is the action will likely continue for another couple weeks. Go get you some.

DANCES WITH CHICKENS

Spring courtship rituals among members of the grouse family are unique. Males gather on elevated grassy areas, called leks, and strut their stuff. Each bird has a not-so-well-defined boundary which results in border disputes. Birds face each other, mock charge and may jump into the air trying to strike their opponent with wings or feet. Injuries are rare, other than a few ruffled feathers.

Females visiting the Lek meander through nonchalantly. Each male does his best to visually and audibly convince her he's the chicken of her dreams. Dominant birds that win the boundary battles are inevitably the ones who get the nod and mating takes place when the hen is ready.

I visited a Lek Tuesday morning. As soon as we exited the truck we knew the morning would be a good one. The ritualistic sounds can be heard for nearly a mile on calm mornings. Six or seven males displayed while a couple hens feigned interest. Two Northern Harriers dove on the birds a half-dozen times. The Lek would go silent and then the birds would flush. The predators wouldn't have anything that "tastes like chicken" this day but it wasn't for lack of effort. This eyewitness account, coupled with the dramatic displays, made this morning memorable.

The sights and sounds of a prairie chicken lek are something right off the Discovery Channel. It's a scene I think all Kansans should get to observe at least once in their life. It's truly one of the Great Plains most inspiring and visual wildlife-watching experiences.

TURKEY RODEO

My twin 12-year-old boys aren't identical. From their sleeping and eating habits to their personalities and demeanor, they're totally different. So I guess it should come as no surprise their outdoor experiences might be different, too. Their turkey hunts this week proved it.

Brandon and I slipped out Wednesday evening to the same spot where Cody had a picture-perfect hunt last Saturday. It was warm and smoky as the Flint Hills were apparently ablaze. We tried calling a few times once we neared the timber but got no response. We decided to sit for awhile and see what transpired.

We sat for 90 minutes before finally hearing a gobble across the river. A couple more got my hopes up. But a shotgun blast from that direction doused those feelings. We kept calling and later had two birds pop into the field. They cautiously eased our way. I reasoned their reluctance was due to the fact they were likely the two surviving jakes from Cody's encounter.

They crept into shotgun range but got behind some brush. Brandon couldn't see them well enough to shoot. I put him on my lap trying to get him a higher vantage point. He still couldn't get a clear shot.

Finally, the birds started to move off and he could see them. At the shot, one turkey flew away and the other was hit hard but headed for the river. Another shot didn't work and I grabbed the gun and we took off towards the river. We peered across the river but didn't see his bird and my heart sank. But a few "putts" caught my attention and the young gobbler was at the edge of the grass near the water's edge. I handed Brandon the gun and he finished him off.

Now the dilemma was the river crossing. I contemplated stripping down to my drawers and wading/swimming across and Brandon seemed amused by this option. However, better judgement had us go to the truck, back out to the highway and down the other side. It was a rodeo of sorts, but Brandon's bird got a ride home in the back of the truck.

I guess nobody said it would always be easy.

PICTURE-PERFECT MORNING

I've always said one of my favorite sounds in the world is a turkey's gobble. It elicits all kinds of emotion and on a perfect spring morning it does wonders for the soul. Saturday morning was good medicine as I shared it with one of my twin boys, Cody.

Only seconds after exiting the truck into the darkness I heard them gobble. Birds all up and down the drainage were making their presence known at 6:15 a.m. A raucous gaggle of geese on a nearby pond had the turkeys shock gobbling at every honk. The only bad news was there were no birds on the property where I had permission to take my kids during the youth season.

But a gobbling serenade echoed until daylight and I'd already considered the day a success. My son sat in front of me with his little 20 gauge propped on shooting sticks. It was peaceful. Cody dozed off against my chest and I enjoyed the moment knowing soon he'd be too big and too cool for moments like that.

I kept calling and it wasn't long and I had some interest from the other side of the river. By now Cody was awake as the birds gobbled, getting closer but coming from behind. We could hear them walking in the leaves, spitting and drumming. Three jakes popped out into the field and eased towards our decoys gobbling every few steps in full strut.

I told Cody to be patient and the birds would walk right into his gun's line of sight less than 15 yards away. I could tell when he picked up a bird as his gun started to move. I asked if he was on it and reminded him to keep his cheek on the stock. When he answered "yes" I told him to shoot and his aim was true.

Rather than immediately retrieve his bird, we sat for another 10 minutes or so and continued to soak in the sights and sounds of a picture-perfect morning. Turkeys gobbled in the distance and the sounds of spring were indeed therapeutic.

MEMORIES ARE MADE NOW

The Kansas youth and archery-only season opened this morning and runs through April 12th. Kids 16 years of age or younger (with a turkey permit) may hunt with any legal equipment as long as they're supervised by an adult 18 years or older. Anywhere from 5,000 to 6,000 youngsters will participate in this youth season. It's a great time to get kids into the woods and put all the emphasis on their experience.

I have taken advantage of this season for several years now. My 12-year-old twin boys killed their first turkeys at age 7. Each of them took turns and would sit between my legs with their 20 gauge shotgun propped on shooting sticks. Although I wouldn't allow them to swing a shotgun on any flying game for several more years, those early turkey hunts were absolutely controlled. It's a perfect and safe setting to introduce a youngster to hunting.

There were some misses and bungled opportunities along the way. What seemed easy to me was more difficult with a young beginner and I understood and accepted the challenge knowing failure was part of the learning process. But when it all came together, my boys' smiles were likely only exceeded by my own. Watching them enjoy the great outdoors and passing on that tradition was truly a proud moment.