Order Christmas Book Gifts Now.

Each year in late November of early December I urge readers to order their Christmas book gifts early. I often do a short book review on several great new books that cross my desk, and urge people who are looking for other fishing and hunting titles to look over Scoop's Books at <dave@daverichey.com> . A book on fishing or hunting can make the perfect Christmas gift for the angler or sportsman in your life, and this three-week-plus advance warning gives people plenty of time for delivery providing orders are made promptly. Scoop's Books has more than 400 used fishing and hunting books and magazines for sale.

On The Trail Of The Indian Tiger by Tobias J. Lanz, Ph.D.

Published by Safari Press, 15621 Chemical Lane, Building B, Huntington Beach, CA 92649-1506. Phone (714) 894-9080. Visit their website a <www.safaaripress.com> or email them at <info@safariPress.com> . This book was published in 2009, contains 332 pages and is illustrated with b/w photos & drawings. $34.95 plus shipping.

India was always the stronghold of the tiger, and during the British Raj from 1858-1947, the ceremonies and rituals surrounding this grand hunt was among the most lavish in the world. The British, and their empire building, brought a host of men who wanted to taste the excitement of hunting these giant cats from howdahs, precariously perch atop an elephant's back. The sportsmen of this era suffered the nerve twitching anxiety of hunting from tree-top machans or platforms in wooded areas.

There were famous hunters such as Jim Corbett, who took it upon himself to hunt the man-eating tigers on foot or horseback. Corbett lived through these hunts, wrote books about hunting leopards and tigers, but many native villagers were ambushed by the felines and paid with their lives. This is a hair-raising account about hunting these beautiful animals. This gripping anthology of hunting tales will keep you riveted to your easy chair. All of Safari Press' books are sold only by them, and not sold anywhere else. They are handsome and well-bound books.

Sun Over The Dark Continent by Charles Bazzy.

Published by Safari Press Inc. Address and other information listed above. $85 in hardcover with slipcase. Price does not include shipping.

This book tells the tales of 54 years of big-game hunting in Botswana, Cameroon, Ethiopa, Kenya, Sudan, Tanganyika and Zambia, and it was on the Dark Continent where we also worked as an apprentice Professional Hunter. His career of  taking people to Africa, helping them get their big-game trophies, and soaking up the lore and love of the African continent is a major story among African hunters. Bazzy was a lucky and skilled hunter, and his lesser kudu still ranks among the top five in the world for that species. The brown cloth cover features a gilt setting son with a charging rhino on it.

Bazzy tells the story of this longtime love affair with Africa and its game animals, and between the covers of this book, which is limited to 1,000 numbered and signed copies, are stories about his hunts for African elephant, bongo, Cape buffalo, giant eland, lechwe, leopard, lion, sitatunga, white rhino and much more. This is much more than just about a Michigan resident who loves to hunt in Africa. It holds readers spellbound as Bazzy discusses numerous safaris and the people who made these treks with the author. Again, another exceptional hunting book by Safari Press, the best publishing house  on worldwide big-game and trophy wild game hunting.

Siatwinda by Joe Brooks.

Published by Safari Press. Address and other information listed above. $65 in hardcover plus shipping. This is the story of an elephant control officer and Professional Hunter in Zambia, who also is a crocodile hunter, breeder and an adventuresome type, who has been doing this kind of work since 1962. Many books on PHs are available, and some of them are very good reads. This is that type of book, and Brooks tells some hair-raising tales of controlling rogue and very unpredictable elephants.

Brooks hunted some out-sized monster elephants including one that went over 20 feet. He also regales readers about hunting crocodiles from a leaky boat with a Scotsman named "Crazy Mack." One bizarre tale about Brooks being asked to remove a long-dead elephant from a river. He began by  pulling the dead elephant out with his vehicle, and suddenly several natives jumped on it to float along. The carcass rolled over in the current, and the natives fell into the river amid a bunch of crocodiles, who were following their meal. He also hunted down rogue elephants that raised havoc with local villagers, and once shot two crop-raising elephants with one shot. It is an engrossing book that tells of Africa then and now.

Safari Rifles II by Craig Boddington.

Published by Safari Press Inc. Address and other information listed above. Harcover and dust jacket at $49.99 plus shipping. No one  living today knows more about double rifles, magazine rifles and cartridges for African hunting than the author. He wrote the extremely popular Safari Rifles in 1989 based on his African experiences up to that point. Boddington is the real deal, and is acknowledged as the pro among professional hunters. His name is synonymous with African big-game hunting. Anyone considering a hunt to the Dark Continent should buy and study this book because there is nothing better available.

Boddington realized that the needs of today's African hunting are much different than they were 20 years ago. He presents his information in clearly-explained, bite size pieces that readers can easily digest. The result is the reader gets a solid understanding of what works and what doesn't. He solves the problem many hunters have of which sights are really best for big-bore rifles. Is a single shot a responsible choice for dangerous game? If this isn't, it should become the Bible for hunters interested in learning which rifles, calibers and bullets are best suited for hunting today's Africa. Boddington's books on African game and hunting are cherished by hunters who have been on the sharp point of a charging member of the Big 5, and lived to tell their tale. Boddington knows his stuff, and he delivers it in fine fashion. This book with its lush color photos is one of his best.

The last time I had a chance to speak with Craig Boddington was in 1991 as he prepared to go to war with the US Marines during Desert Storm. He served his time in other hell-holes, and I wish to publicly thank him for his long military experiences in helping to protect the American way of life, and now he is writing some of the most profound books on safari rifles. Best of luck, man!

African Game Trails by Theodore Roosevelt.

Published by Safari Press Inc. Address and other information listed above. Hardcover and dust jacket at $49.95 plus shipping. This book has been  printed and reprinted, time and again through many editions, and it never loses its appeal. It was first printed in book form in 1910, and 99 years later, it is still as impressive now as back then. Teddy and his entourage, as well as his son Kermit, made their safari a year before the book came out. This safari, perhaps the most flamboyant safari ever, lasted almost a year and the great man himself wrote much of the book while on safari and this newest printing celebrates the 100th anniversary of that great experience.

The emphasis of this safari, which was undertaken for the Smithsonian Museum, resulted in Kermit hunting for the more difficult African game animals such as the bongo, giant eland, sitatunga and the white rhino. Hunting licenses were not required for leopards and lions and multiple  elephant and rhino were issued on one hunting license. This is a lavish book, and quality paper was used to provide the best possible reproduction of 100-year-old photos. This is the story of perhaps the most lavish safari ever put together. Anyone with a sense of history, and a willingmess to put everything in its proper perspective, would realize that this was a far-flung event, even 100 years ago.

Mark Sosin: A Sportsman's Memoir by Mark Sosin.

Published by Mark Sosin's Saltwater journal, 681 S.W. 15th Street, Boca Raton, FL 33486.  For more detailed information contact him at <sosinmark@aol.com> . It sells for $29.95 plus shipping and handling. I've known Mark for more years than I can remember, but I remember the occasion. It was at an Outdoor Writer's Association of American conference in 1969 in Duluth, Minn., and it's where we first got to know each other. Since that time, 40 years ago, Sosin has been one of my favorite people. And for good reason.

We are about the same age, and both of us are crusty old curmudgeons. I suspect his voice is louder than mine, but only because he's a bigger man than me. There's one thing Mark is, and that is he is the ultimate professional outdoor communicator. He's dabbled in a few more things that I have, and his television show has seemingly been running forever. We've both done the book gig, have both written for outdoor magazines and newspapers, and each of us has dabbled in radio. Mark is a raconteur, a story-teller with unique talents. He tells stories, and when he's done, people are laughing at him and with him. It's a special talent that too few people still possess.

This book is a collection of 350 stories from five decades of fishing around the world. Even I don't know where all these spots are that Mark has fished, and it's quite possible he may have forgotten a few countries along the way. He's done some freshwater fishing years ago, but his massive out-put of saltwater fishing tales is as big as the man himself. But wherever Mark Sosin travels, there are people who know him and he knows them. He moves in different circles than I do because I can count all of my saltwater adventures on one hand, and have a finger left over. Not Mr. Sosin.

When he talks, people listen. When he tells a funny story, people listen and laugh. When he gets serious, and commences to tell people how to catch fish under certain circumstances, nary a sound is heard. His size, his voice and his presense is like a command performance. I've heard a few of the stories in this lavish array of self-published hilarity, and if you're looking for some good chuckles while reading some very well written stories, this book is for you.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Trespass: A Troubling Landowner Problem

The firearm season ends tomorrow night, and for some landowners, the 16-day season will have brought trespassers to their land. It has happened to me. Tire tracks were as obvious as a train wreck on my woods road. I hadn’t made them so it meant someone had been trespassing or poaching on my property.

I followed the tire tracks for 200 yards into my woods, and then they ended. A vehicle had come that far and left. It was easy to see where it had been parked, and nearby was an empty cigarette package and a candy bar wrapper.

I continued down my two-track another 200 yards before stumbling over something in the leaf-covered trail. Leaves covered the trail, and I kicked around to remove what I’d tripped over and uncovered a mound of illegal sugar beets.

Clues led to the trespasser's tree stand.

I felt like a detective searching for more clues. My gaze went to the nearby trees, and 20 yards away was a ladder stand. It wasn’t mine so I climbed the stand, unhooked it from the tree, and twisted it free. It was either a very cheap stand that bent easily or my anger made me stronger than I realized, but the ladder got twisted like a pretzel. Darn!

A note was left at the site. It said “If you want your ladder stand back, stop at the first house to the east at noon.”

A truck pulled into my driveway in timely fashion, and I didn’t recognize it. A man got out, walked up to the door, and I met him. He’d come to claim his tree stand.

He said he had put up the stand for his son who was living with other people nearby. I asked him why he used my two-track as a parking spot while he trespassed.

Dealing with the man who trespassed on my property.

“I didn’t know it was private,” he whined. “I’m sorry.”

 He was told that he had purposely driven past two No Trespassing signs near the road, but he claimed ignorance. He said he hadn’t seen them.

“Do you want your ladder stand back?” I asked. He said he did.

“Let me see your drivers license. I need some information, and once I have that information I’ll return the stand.”

“Why should I show you my license,” he asked.

“If you don’t, you won’t get your stand back. I’ll walk outside before you can back out of my driveway, and write down your license plate letters and numbers. Then I’ll let the police track you down. That will work fine for me. How does that suit you?”

“C’mon, man, I don’t want any problem with the police.”

“Give me your drivers license, and don’t call me man. I’ll write down the information, and then give you your stand. But first, a warning: if you are caught on my land again, I will go to the police. If I find your truck on my land I’ll flatten all four tires to keep you here until the police arrive. Do we understand each other? Is all of this clear enough for you?”

It was, and he complied with my request for his drivers license, and I returned his bent ladder stand. I haven’t seen him since, and don’t want to.

Trespass is one of the most common problems that landowners face.

People sneak onto private land, put up tree stands, screw in tree steps, and figure they can get away with it. It is illegal to trespass on another person’s property without permission, but people who do so realize the chance of being caught is not high.

Sadly, trespass is a misdemeanor and few trespass cases wind up being prosecuted. The prosecuting attorney and staff is too busy dealing with armed robberies, burglaries, embezzlement, home invasion, murder, rape and other more serious crimes. They seldom handle a trespass case unless it is a part of a more serious crime.

Sadly, what seems an easy situation for the prosecuting attorney’s office to handle, can leave the landowner blowing in the wind. Is it fair? No, but it’s a fact. This leaves the landowner feeling helpless and used by the system and the trespasser. It’s difficult to get police to the scene of a trespass problem in time to take any immediate action. Often, the landowner must handle the problem alone, and this is not always a wise decision.

Trespass is only one problem. Two others often include littering and property damage.

Another case of trespass on our leased land.

Years ago several friends and I leased 640 acres near Harrison for deer and turkey hunting. On opening day of the firearm deer season we encountered a stranger in the woods. He wasn’t dressed in  blaze orange, and we asked what he was doing.

This gent was antagonistic and surly. He wanted to know who we were.

“We lease this land,” I told him. “You are trespassing and will have to leave.”

“I’ve hunted this land for 40 years and will continue to hunt it,” he said, with grit in his voice. “You can lease it but I plan to continue hunting here. If you call the police, I’ll set fire to the woods. You’ll never be able to prove I did it.”

He left, and we bumped into him again later in the season. He threatened to fight all three of us, and the last thing we needed from a lease was to fight with a cranky neighbor. We finally gave up the lease for apparent reasons.

A deal with the devil.

A doctor who requests anonymity bought 400 acres of land in the northern Lower Peninsula, built a nice log cabin and barn, and began planting food plots for wildlife. He soon encountered a trespasser, and went to talk and politely asked him to leave.

“I’ll leave this time but I’ll be  back and there’s nothing you can do about it,” he said. “My daddy grew up in this area and so did I, and I’ve always hunted one specific spot on the border of your property and I’ll continue to hunt it whether you like it or not.

“Put the police on me and I’ll sugar up the gas tank of your brand-new tractor. If that doesn’t educate you, I’ll burn down your barn. If that doesn’t work I’ll burn down your fancy log cabin. However, I am a reasonable man.”

By now the doctor was terrified, and asked what “reasonable” meant.

“Give me written permission to hunt my one spot on the corner of your land, and I’ll be the best caretaker you’ll ever have. Poachers and other trespassers know who I am, and I’ll keep everyone else away from your house, barn and farm equipment. I won’t hunt if you have a bunch of company, but I won’t allow anyone to hunt my stand.”

“How do I know you’ll do as you say,” the doctor asked. “What guarantees do I have?”

“There are no guarantees. It’s a simple deal. Give me my one place to hunt, and I’ll keep everyone else off your land. You live up to your end of the deal and I’ll live up to mine. Trust me, you don’t need me as your enemy. I’m just a little bit crazy.”

So he cut a deal with the devil. He honored the agreement and has had no problems even though his cabin and land is in a remote part of the state, off a dirt road with no close neighbors except for his new caretaker. No one has broke into his cottage, sugared his gas tank or burned down his barn.

Not many trespasser will work out such deals. They come and go until caught, and if anything happens, they get a naughty-boy slap on the wrist and are turned loose with a minor fine.  Some may retaliate. Most do not, but they may return to trespass again.

Trespassers want to hunt private land, not federal or state lands.

Land is getting tight in the Lower Peninsula, and as more farms are sold and subdivided, the acreage where people could once hunt has shrunk. It becomes a situation of the haves and have-nots. Those who own land worry about the have-nots trespassing on it.

There has been a few cases of physical violence over the years although most such actions have involved snowmobilers. It seldom comes to that with sportsmen.

However, the specter of trespass is never far away. What does the future hold?

It’s a question that is most difficult to answer. The most  obvious concern among landowners is the threat of increased trespass cases. That also brings to mind the possibility of retaliation.

Several people I know have made friends with the local Sheriffs Department deputies, and offer them a chance to hunt their land in return for them running  people off. Others invite Michigan State Police officers to fill the same role. It eliminates the need for the owners to physically confront  trespassers.

Should such actions be necessary? If we lived in a perfect world, it wouldn’t be but this is not a perfect world nor are all of our citizens nice people. The perfect world would allow for a jail sentence for repeat offenders and something far more substantial than a wrist slap and a small fine and court costs.

The perfect world would teach trespassers to stay on their own land or hunt federal or state land. That obviously doesn’t work in today’s society, and violence on behalf of the landowner only exacerbates the problem.

Solving this issue takes time, proper legislation, solid law enforcement, landowner cooperation and a court system that will address the issue properly while administering justice and punishment in a swift manner. One can only hope that day soon comes.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Hunters Who Never Miss

It was 20 years ago, and a friend and I were hunting mule deer on a northeastern Wyoming ranch. There were some good bucks on it, and I shot a dandy mule deer (shown below) as did my hunting buddy.

A few hunters on the ranch were there for antelope, not mule deer. One was the sort that let his mouth overload his back-side, and he told everyone within shouting distance that he never missed a shot. Not once, not ever. He was Dead-eye Dick with a rifle. He acted as if he was several notches better than the other sportsmen in camp.

Such people irritate me almost as much as those who say they always shoot bigger critters than onyone else. Most are obnoxious louts that other hunters dislike having in a hunting camp. I occasionally hassle them, if for no other reason than they deserve it. It becomes a bit of fun to publicly embarrass them.

Starting to put the pressure on the loud mouth.

"Is that a fact?" I asked, setting the hook into him. "I'm frankly in awe of anyone who can shoot game and never miss a shot. Do you mind if I shoot some photos? It would make for a good magazine feature, and later tonight I'll do an interview. For now, I just need some photographs of you in action. OK with you?"

'You bet, kid," he said. "I'll show you how it's done. I pull the trigger, and the 'lope hits the dirt. You'll have to be quick to catch me in action."

"I'll try to keep up with you," I said, adding a bit more pressure to the situation. "I'll do the best I can. It's going to be great watching a hotshot like you shoot."

We drove around until we spotted several antelope, and the gent said we could get closer on foot. He said the biggest buck would go 15 inches or a bit better, and that is what he wanted. That and some good cutters.

He and I stepped out of the truck, got a roll of ground between us and the antelope, and I dogged his tracks. We covered a quarter-mile, and he cautiously peeked over the hill. The antelope were 125 yards away, staring off toward the pickup truck.

The moment of truth.

He sat down, got his shooting sticks situated, and I was right behind him, prepared to shoot photos over his shoulder. He eased the rifle fore-end into the sticks, snuggled up tight to the rifle stock, peered through the scope, and whispered "watch this, kid."

I was watching the buck antelope and clicking photos with a telephoto lens. The buck goat never moved at the shot.

"You missed," I whispered to him.

"Nope," he said. "Just watch, he'll topple over soon."

"Better shoot again. I can see him through my telephoto lens, and he doesn't know where the shot came from. You flat-out missed him. Shoot again before he runs off."

He did, and with the same result. Braggarts are a pain, and I needled him a bit. "Hey, partner, you flat missed that antelope. Try it again."

By now, he's ticked at me, mad for making a fool of himself by bragging up his ability to shoot, and aimed and fired a third shot. The antelope wheeled, looked our way, and put it in overdrive.

"Missed again, bub," I advised. "They're gone now and are probably halfway to town my now."

"They will pop up on that rise and I'll try again," he said. The rise was 400 yards away, and I knew the antelope would be moving fast.

Up they came, and he shot, and the buck antelope dropped. It was hit in the back end. We jogged over to the fallen animal, and he shot it at close range to end its misery.

"Must be tough missing those three shots when you've never missed before," I teased. "You had me going there for a bit. You were just putting the shuck on me, weren't you? That last shot ruined most of the steaks, but then, antelope are pretty small critters at 400 yards. Right?"

He wouldn't talk to me, and left camp as soon as we returned, and never talked to a soul before pulling out. It's what bragging does to people who can't back up their words.

Every hunter missed at one time or another.

A friend of mine missed two whitetail bucks today. No excuses, he flat missed. But then, I've seen him miss once or twice in the past 30 years, and I've also seen him make some almost unbelievable long-range shots.

A buck came out in front of him at over 200 yards during a drive, and he missed that buck with both shots. It crossed a nearby road, and everyone in his hunting party searched for blood or hair. Both were clean misses, and he'd made those kinds of shots many times in the past.

On the next drive he spotted another buck, shot once, and missed again. They checked for blood or hair, and it was another clean miss.

"Hey, I just plain missed," he said. "I've got no excuses. For whatever reason, I missed, plain and simple."

I had gone years without missing a whitetail with a bow, and casually mentioned that fact to a friend a few years ago. Sure enough, that was the night I missed an easy quartering-away shot. Bragging is never a good idea.

There is a big difference between these two men. One was a loud mouth and braggart, and the other freely admitted to his misses, just like I did just now. The first one got needled hard because he had bragged himself into a corner from which there was no escape, and the other man and I deserved the sympathy we got.

We've all missed deer in the past, and may very well miss again in the future. It's a part of deer hunting, and those who say they never miss have either shot very little game or is a stone cold liar ... or, most likely, a combination of the two.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

The Night Of The Brown Trout Moon Dan

The Night Of The Brown Trout Moon Dance
By
John McKenzie

The late-October day had passed all too quickly. The thrill of fly fishing northern Michigan streams during the peak of the fall salmon and trout spawning runs had been a mesmerizing experience.

The setting sun had brought to a close an award-winning episode on Michigan’s famed Platte River. Longtime friend, guide, and outdoor writer Dave Richey and I had been guiding clients from Iowa. That day had found us in the midst of a heavy run of chinook and coho salmon and some huge brown trout.

We had put our clients into a mind-boggling number of fish, and it had been a truly legendary kind of day. We fished a stretch of river that looked yellow-orange because of the spawning colors of lake-run brown trout.

One of our clients with a trophy brown trout.

I witnessed savage runs of these powerful fish, and watched them break 10-pound test line like it was sewing thread, leaving clients drop-jawed and speechless. But now the day was over, and our clients had returned to their cabin.

They were sated from numerous struggles with big fish. They complained of sore arms and wrists, but their smiles stretched from ear to ear. They had brown trout, Chinook salmon and coho salmon carefully wrapped and padded for a taxidermist, and they would be frozen solid as they headed for home in the morning. Their salmon and trout fillets were packed away in the deep freeze.

Our waders, rods and tackle all rested in their proper places, and we were on our way to dinner. We were lean and mean in those bygone days, and one meal a day was normal for us. Now, after all the day's work was done, we were on a bee-line for some hot grub.

After a great meal and one sundowner, we talked about the numbers of big brown trout we had encountered that day. Dave and I couldn’t shake off the intensity of that outing, and the number of big bronze colored and silvery brown trout we had found.

Perhaps, deep down inside, we knew the odds were very strong in our favor that we'd never see a river filled with browns again during our lifetime. Some of the gravel spawning beds had held 10-15 male and female browns, and more kept nosing their way upstream in their continuing search for a spawning site.

It was 10:30 that night as we left the restaurant and the night sky was filled with the energy and light from the Rutting Moon. We looked at each other, and then I said: “Lets go back after ‘em. They will still be there.”

Dave put the car in gear and we were heading for the Platte River. I'd noticed that his Black Beauty fly rod was all ready to go, and knotted at the end of the leader was a No. 6 Dave's Favorite that had been tied by his twin brother George.

The big browns were still there.

We found a crystal-clear river, filled with trophy-sized spawning brown trout. The night sky, energized by the light of the full moon, provided great lighting, and we were as giddy as school girls.

We soon reached the river, parked the car and walked slowly and softly down the bank. The shallow gravel beds, fanned hard and shiny with overturned white stones, glistened in the moonlight. The river was choked with big browns.

A pathway, clear of obstacles, lay alongside the spawning trout, and it provided perfect casting opportunities. I tied on one of George’s Platte River Pink flies, and the first cast retrieved across the gravel bar triggered a strike that sent a huge brown trout tail-walking in a moon dance of silvery spray across the shimmering Platte River. Two fishing guides had arrived at Fly Fishing Heaven.

I hooked a big fish, a male with a kype as big as a crooked little finger, and the fish took me down the river. Dave shook out line through his fly rod, shot a cast across the river, and as it swung in the current, another brown trout hit.

It was nonstop fly fishing action.

For two hours we danced one brown trout after another across the moon-sparkled river. We were deep in our individual thoughts during this piece of time. Just us and the fish that took us there.

Dave then worked a big brown down the river, and I sat on the bank, unable to cast again. I was shutting down alongside the river that had given us the greatest single night of brown trout fishing either of us had ever seen.

I awoke to Dave’s voice: “Hey, partner, I almost stepped on you! You had enough magical fishing for one night?”

“Yeah,” I replied, “let's pack it in. We need some sound sleep before meeting our new sports in the morning.”

We walked back to the car, stowed our rods, and as I looked up into the night sky, I knew we would never forget the Night of the Brown Trout Moon Dance. And you know what? We never have forgotten that one night in our shared lives when the brown trout fishing was twice as good as anyone could ever want.

Editor's Note: John McKenzie was one of my fishing guides from 1968 to 1975, and this is another of his stories based on an event that happened almost 40 years ago. He loves river fishing and whitetail deer hunting, and he, like I, remember the old days with great fondness because they may never happen to us again.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

I Give Thanks ...

Thanksgiving Day is the one day each year set aside for giving thanks. It may be to our Lord and Savior for all the good things in our lives, and it may be given to our family and friends. It is a special day for me, and later today I'll spend time with family and friends, and on this special day, I'd like to thank all of these fine folks.

On this day, I wish to thank:

*My wife Kay (left) for putting up with me and my sometime quirky behavior. She is my lover and my best friend, and she has been there  for me for more than 32 years. She has picked me up when I have fallen, nursed me when I was ill, traveled with me in the early days when neither of us knew where our next magazine check would come from, and together we've weathered many storms. She's my best hunting buddy, and she loves to hunt. She also loves me with all her heart, and I love her with a fervent passion. Who could ask for anything more from their mate?

*My twin brother George (right), who passed away more than six years ago. He and I gave of each other to help the other person. He died of cancer, and a part of my life disappeared that evening in September when he drew his last breath and moved on to a better place. We shared 64 years of memories that began in the womb, and during that time, there was nothing he wouldn't do for me and nothing I wouldn't do for him. We were soulmates for many years, and shared countless fishing trips and deer hunts. I miss him, and there has been a terrible sense of loss as I think of him daily.

*I'd be remiss on this day if I didn't remember the armed forces of the United States of America. These men and women, at home and abroad, stand ready at all times to guard this great nation from those evil forces who would take away our Constitutional rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Countless men and women have made the ultimate sacrifice to keep our proud nation free. To one and all, past and present, I salute you and offer my heartfelt "Thank You" for the many sacrifices you've made on my behalf and that of other citizens. I'm eternally proud of each and every one of you, and may many others in this wonderful country of ours pay their respects today as well.

Write and get paid for it is a great gig.

*I've been a lucky man. In 1967, I chose my path and way of life when I began writing outdoor copy for a living. The first few years didn't provide much of a living, but I was happy and proud to say that for most of my adult life I've made my living doing a job I thought needed to be done. I wrote countless magazine articles, newspaper columns and features, books, and for the past six year, a daily blog. I've dealt with some editors for all these years that were memorable people. There was Stan Meseroll of Sports Afield, who bought my first magazine article in 1967, and several others. He was a man who believed in me and my dream of making a living as an outdoor writer. There were others, like the late Ben East of Outdoor Life, who really taught me how to self-edit my material and how to make each piece the best it could be.

Other editors such as Lamar Underwood of Outdoor Life and Sports Afield; Jay Cassell of all three of the Big 3 outdoor magazines (Field & Stream, Outdoor Life and Sports Afield); the late Gordie Charles of Traverse City, Michigan, who invited me to go to New Zealand 30 years ago on a fishing trip I'll never forget; the late Mort Neff, who was the eternal gentleman, and a pioneer in outdoor television; and other writers like the late Jack O'Connor who gave of his time to help lead the way by example during the early 1970s; the late Ted Trueblood, who knew who I was and was willing to spend time talking with me while he slowly and painfully died of cancer at his home in Idaho; the late writer John Madson, who had a magic pen that could make an ordinary story into something that may have been the best written story in the world.

Writers who had a great impact on me.

*I'd also like to give thanks to two men I never knew except through their writings. The late Gordon MacQuarrie of Wisconsin was a newspaperman who also wrote magazine articles and books. His book "Stories Of The Old Duck Hunters & Other Drivel" was a magical one. I've read it many times, and he died much too early but he had a dramatic affect on me and my writing. Another man -- the late and inimitable Robert Ruark -- may have been the finest outdoor writer that I've ever read. His two books -- The Old Man & The Boy and The Old Man's Boy Grows Old -- should be required reading for anyone who wishes to play in the outdoor writing sandbox. Ruark had a major drinking problem, and like Ernest Hemingway before him and Peter Hathaway Capstick after, the booze led to an early death long before they should have died. All were at the top of their game when they passed on, and I honor their memory and give thanks for the great work they did.

*I'd be remiss in this list of people to whom i owe a large measure of respect would be my old mentor, Max Donovan of Clio, Michigan (lower left). He was a hemophiliac, who took me under his wing as a teenager, and did his best to teach me right from wrong. He could nick himself during a morning shave, and be laid up in bed bleeding for two weeks. But, when he was at the top of his game, he taught me most everything he knew about trout fishing, catching spring bluegills, how to hunt red foxes on winter snow or haughty black ducks on a late-fall nor'easter when gust of wind blew the cattails flat and brought the big red-leggers down from Canada and to our decoys in a marsh opening. Max coached me along for about 25 years, teaching me what he know, and guessing accurately about things he didn't know, and we were a pair. I miss his mentality and his wit, and fortunately I was able to tell him how I felt about him when he was still alive. Now I'm giving thanks for the privilege of having known and fished and hunted with him. It was an education I truly treasure.

*The late George Yontz of Wolverine was another person deserving of my thanks. Serious asthma and hay fever problems brought George and I together in 1952 along the banks of the Sturgeon River in Cheboygan County. He was a short-legged, long-waisted Dutchman who was a plumber by trade but who owned a small tackle shop along old M-27 and rented cabins. Me and a school friend used to spend all summer along the Sturgeon River fishing because we had problems breathing the pollen-filled air of southern Michigan. Yontz spent hours teaching me how to fish for steelhead, big brown trout and walleyes. I acted as his "man" when some big stout young feller would drop in to challenge Yontz to an arm wrestling contest. I never knew him to be beat at arm wresting, fishing or for being a storehouse of solid no-nonsense fishing information. He, like Donovan, coached me from an early teenager into adulthood, and I owe him much more than a debt of thanks. Men like Roger Kerby on Honor has provided me with many wonderful deer hunts over the years, and I give thanks to him as well.

Everyone deserves my thanks, except one.

*The list of people I worked with on stories, not only recently but also during my early writing years, could fill a book. If it hadn't been for some of my guides, there would have been stories and I wouldn't be deliberating over who to name. Most of my guides were very good, a few merely adequate, and memory only reveals one truly bad guide who cost me a massive 7 X 7 bull elk in Idaho. He deliberately tried to steer me away from the blood trail of that huge bull. He left me up in the mountains without my horse when I questioned his judgment, and it took all day and half of the night to make my way down out of the mountains. He doesn't even deserve this little bit of space because he wound up with my big elk.

Other guides who stand head and shoulder above many others include Mark Rinckey (lower right and I) of Honor, Michigan, who began guiding after I quit my 10-year guiding career in 1976. Mark is one of the finest fishing guides for salmon and steelhead fishing in the rivers that I know. Emil Dean, who spent years guiding steelhead anglers on the Big Manistee, is another man to whom I owe a large measure of thanks. Jack Duff of Leland and I shared 10-15 years of the best big brown trout fishing action this state has ever seen, and the capstone of his guiding career was the 31 1/2-pound brown trout that held the Michigan state record for years. Forty years of fishing with Duffy has made me a better angler. There are other guides like the late Al Lesh of Warren, Steve Van Assche of Harrison Township, Michigan, is perhaps one of the finest muskie fishing guides on Lake St. Clair. Jerry Regan and Sam Surre are two of the finest fly-fishing guides on the AuSable and Manistee rivers.

To one and all, living or dead, on this day of Thanksgiving, I offer my thanks to you. For those not named, but who helped me along the way, you know who you are and deserve a warm "Thanks" for all you've done. Have a good day and don't forget to give thanks in your own way.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Should We Protect Button-Bucks?

Some whitetail authorities question whether protecting button-bucks during the hunting season is right. I admit to some mixed feelings on the topic.

It's important that we remove some doe fawns each year. We can't afford to feed them all winter, and then have them giving birth to one or two fawns next spring. It would continue to swell our deer herd, and could quickly put it out of balance.

We try to protect the button-bucks while knowing that many of them will die in a tough winter, but still we try to keep them alive while concentrating our hunting efforts on does and doe fawns.

Button-bucks like this are almost impossible to tell from a doe fawn.

Many hunters know to bring a really good pair of binoculars when they hunt, and I expect them to use the binoculars to study an antlerless deer's head before shooting. Even with strong binoculars it can be very difficult to tell a young button- buck from a doe fawn.

Some button-bucks have one- or two-inch buttons or knobs on their head that can be seen with the naked eye. Some also have a head almost as smooth as a bald doe fawn.

There are times when the buttons are more like a pimple on a teenagers face. except in this case, the pimple is buried under hair. On occasion, that button (or pimple) will barely nudge one or two hairs out of place.

A casual glance would probably result in that little button-buck being shot. Some hunters say the button-bucks have a darker coat than a doe fawn, but I've seen button-bucks with dark and light hair at this time of the year. Hair color is not a good indicator of sex.

Button-bucks often are more aggressive. They may be bigger than a doe fawn although I've seen some button-bucks that wouldn't produce enough meat to make four big burgers.

Trying to tell the difference between a buck fawn and a doe fawn can be very difficult with some small deer.

Doe fawns often hang closer to the does, and in the winter, often get kicked around for their efforts to feed. Doe fawns often sniff the nose of their mother, but I've seen button-bucks do the same.

Some authorities feel cropping button-bucks is fine because they may not live through a hard winter anyway. Some feel that the loss of very small bucks is nature's way of eliminating excess animals that simply can't or won't survive the perils of winter.

I've found many dead deer during a bad December with cold temperatures and deep snow, and almost all of the young ones found are button-bucks. If that is the case, why the age-old stigma against shooting young male deer?

We are a product of our environment, and many of us have heard the hoary old messages about sparing "next year's antlered bucks." It appears, from some of what I've seen, that button-bucks have a tenuous grip on life during a severe winter. They are walking a tightrope between life and death during the winter and don't know it.

Doe fawns, although I've found some dead at this time of year as well, seem to have a slightly stronger survival instinct. All I know is that if a button-buck is accidentally shot by a hunter who can't see the tiny beginnings of antlers on the deer's head, the chances are very good that animal would not survive anyway.

We still try to protect as many button-bucks as possible, but we don't grieve over the loss of a few. If we don't shoot some, the winter will certainly exacts its toll on them.

And, that is exactly what happens whether we like it or not. So you tell me: should we protect button-bucks or not? Email a "yes" or "no" answer to <dave@daverichey.com.>

11-25-09_droblog_ShouldWeProtectButton-Bucks_((tag: binoculars, bucks, button-bucks, Dave Richey, deer hunting, does, doe fawns, Michigan, outdoors, study))

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

I Can't Give Up The Memories

This is true confession time. Those years between the age of 11-13 and 40 are difficult for me to recall because I was a gluttonous angler.

I was mired in the first two phases of trout fishing. Lots of fish and big ones, and the bigger the better. Bragging-size fish made me feel good, and I'm ashamed to admit it but that's the way it was back in those days 40-45 years ago.

The first stage for me was to catch as many trout as possible. The second phase was to catch the largest possible trout. So, there I stood in my waders: wanting to catch bunches of big fish, and they were so plentiful in the 1960s and early 1970s that it became very easy to catch lots of big salmon or trout.

No brag, just fact: I was a very good stream fisherman. I could catch fish, lots of them and some very big ones, when no one else was doing as well. My methods were 100 percent legal, and the difference between me and 99 percent of the other fishermen on our rivers was I knew the river intimately, paid more attention to locations of holding fish, tried new areas and techniques as I learned to obtain the best drift to work my fly to big fish.

 

Mind you, most of those fish were visible in some of Michigan’s gin-clear waters. Often, the fish held in only two to three feet of water.

Constant fishing improved my angling skills.

The major reason for my success was I fished every day and missed only four weeks during the year, and most of that was during the winter or the dog days of summer.

 Spring and fall steelhead? No problem. Fall brown trout with fish to 15 pounds? It was as easy as laying back in an easy chair. Chinook and coho salmon? No sweat. Lake trout were even available in the Leland River in the 1960s, and until they shut it down during the fall spawn, it was possible in October to catch five big lakers without much of a problem.

 There was a two-year period in the late 1960s, where if you hit it just right,, it was possible to catch some coasters (lake brook trout) by wading and fishing rocky areas near Northport. Very few people knew they were there during October.

 Mind you, 35-40 years ago there were far more of all these grand game fish than now, and less you think I was a game hog by bragging about my limit catches, consider this. Ninety-five to 99 percent of the time I never kept a trout or salmon. All these big fish were released.

 Everything was hooked, fought hard and fast, and was quickly released. The fishing seemed so easy, especially after fishing every day, that in many cases while guiding anglers, I'd go looking for more fish for my clients. It was an excuse that allowed me to look for the hardest fish in the river to catch.

 My idea was to look for a salmon or trout buried back in under a log jam, behind a large rock, tucked under a nasty sweeper, and those were my daily challenges. Fish out in the open on spawning beds offered little challenge for me but I'd put my clients on them. I wanted my fish to have all the odds stacked in their favor, and then if it was possible to catch one, it became a feat that make me feel good.

As a guide, picking up the challenge was part of the fun for me.

This was the challenge. Going after the most  difficult fish in the river became part of every guiding day for me.

The fish in those days, and especially before 1974 when the DNR put in their fish harvest weir on the lower Platte River, the runs of fish into the Platte were simply incredible. There was a bonanza of salmon and trout available to anglers that would staggered the imagination. I’m still in awe of those old days.

Today's anglers have trouble contemplating the vast number of fish available in most streams during that era. To say the rivers were almost awash with fish wouldn't be much on an exaggeration.

There were days in the late 1960s and early 1970s when a limit (five fish daily at that time) of big brown trout were possible for at least 30 days. The males were golden brown with great hooked jaws, and the big males were often mistaken for carp by clueless anglers. Seldom would they be set free because we were running a guide service in those  days, and the location of such fish were important to us.

The fish were important to our clients. If they wanted to keep a limit of fish to take home, they were free to do so.

One spot I never told people about featured a sweeper that had fallen into the river. The tip of the tree almost touched the far bank, and the current had dug a two-foot-deep hole under the tip. Every brown trout in the area wanted to spawn in that spot, and since it was so snag-filled, most people climbed the bank and walked around it. They didn't have the amount of challenge that turned me on.

Seven days in a row would produce a limit  of returned fish, and each brown ran from seven to 15 pounds. Still not convinced?

Take your pick, salmon or trout, and all were available in the fall.

The Platte River had a run of fall-spawning rainbows. They spawned in only two spots, and I knew where both were. The males would be 22 to 24 inches long and weighed 12-14 pounds. I tried to convince the local DNR fisheries biologist that they existed, and he told me they were salmon, not fall spawning ‘bows.

I caught a spawning male and female one day, carried them up to a 100-gallon cooler filled with cold river water in my car, and I drove both fish to the Cadillac DNR office. I had to shame the biologist into getting out of his chair and come out to my car where he was asked to pick them up, one at a time.

Any pressure on the hen's belly produced a stream of golden orange eggs, and the male would produce a steady spurt of milt. He then wanted to know where they were being caught and I refused to tell him. I told him it was his job to get out into the field, and learn what was going on. I felt I'd given him enough clues.

I once was hunting grouse near Otter Creek, just a few miles north of the Platte River mouth, and found that tiny stream full of salmon. It had been open to fishing for years but when I told the biologist about it, the creek was closed the next year. It was too small to fish but snaggers and spear-wielding slobs had  a great time once the stream was shut down.

The nearby Betsie River was amply supplied with big brown trout runs, as well as salmon and steelhead, and a favorite spot then was at the upstream end of the US-31 bridge south of Benzonia and on the north side of the river. Browns held there from late August or early September through November, and most people walked right past the fish as they headed upstream toward the old Homestead Dam.

It's not that the upstream area held more fish. It's just that this was where other people were fishing, and anglers, being gregarious folks, gravitated to areas frequented by other anglers.

We were always content to take the leavings: those areas that no one else fished because they didn't know that these tiny spots held fish. As a guide, it was my place to educate them ... after they paid the daily guide fee.

A wealth of salmon-trout action awaited fly fishermen.

The fall months from early October through November provided a smorgasbord of brown trout and salmon and steelhead action. Most of my anglers in those days could care less about catching browns, fall steelhead that followed the salmon upstream to feed on free-drifting eggs, or the fall-spawning rainbow trout.

They wanted salmon, and there was no shortage of Chinook and coho salmon in those days. I could walk people into different areas every day, and they could catch a limit. In fact, some found this fishing too easy (which it was) and wanted a greater challenge. That's when I began sharing my passion for the ultimate fishing challenge with others.

Less anyone think I'm making all of this up there are still some photos in my files of those bygone days when salmon and trout were so plentiful that it sent a fishing guide looking for a greater fishing challenge.

I experienced something that was wondrous and exciting for 10 years, but when the allure of massive catches and 100 percent release began to pale, it was time to shift into the third stage of trout fishing: where the challenge and the evening of odds began to fall in favor of the game fish rather than a skilled angler.

Now, I still seek the ultimate challenge. And like those outdoor magazine art directors and editors I dealt with many years ago often said: "I'm not sure what I want but I'll recognize it when I see it."

 I’ve seen it, and that fishery was an awesome experience, and angling of that magnitude will never been seen again.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Hunt The Second Season

It's been said that Michigan has two distinct firearm seasons. The first two days -- Nov. 15 and 16 -- represent the first of these seasons, and Nov. 17-30 is the second one. It's basically true. Hunting conditions change after the first two days, and the hunting gets much tougher. Roughly 75-80 percent of the firearm deer are shot during the first 48 hours, and hunters who are not willing to change may not eat much venison this winter.

The second part of the firearm deer season is of great concern to everyone right now. In previous years while working for the newspaper, I had little time to hunt on opening day. So the opener was of little importance to me except for the stories they produced. The second part of the season, starting Nov. 17, was far more productive and many of my past bucks have been taken during this period.

Why? It's a good question, and it is somewhat difficult to answer. Perhaps it's because I wasin the season busy talking to other hunters early and had little personal time to hunt deer. That all changed on November 17, once I escaped from the opening-day atmosphere.

Hunt once the gunning pressure eases.

Perhaps it's because hunting pressure slacks off once the first two days pass. I'm willing to bet the Thanksgiving weekend will be far more productive than the first two days although hunters are reporting more bucks in some areas. Another thing is that during the rest of the firearm season I'll spend less time sitting and more time moving, and that will put me closer to more deer.

I employ several proven methods during the rest of this so-called second hunting season. These tactics seldom pay off early in the season because there are too many other hunters afield, and often the mere presence of additional hunters can cause a deer's travel patterns to significantly change. Hunters often find deer will move out of an area entirely if they hear a single round being fired.

I'll use one or all of the following techniques late in the firearm season, and often one of them will pay off with a whitetail buck. It's just a matter of adapting each of these methods to the prevailing wind and weather conditions.

Stalk late-season deer.

*Stalking deer, especially on windy days, has been a very productive method if snow covers the ground. I prefer a windy day with breezes gusting to 30 miles per hour, and overcast skies seem to produce better than sunny weather. Deer are attuned to weather changes, and the best of all conditions is the 24 hour-period prior to a nasty cold snap or a heavy snow storm.

My strategy is to hunt slowly into the wind through thick bedding cover. I'll take one or two slow steps and pause for at least 30 seconds to check nearby thickets for deer sign. Use your eyes and listen for any sounds of moving deer.

Look around, memorize what you see, and try to see beyond the limit of your vision because anything that moves in between will be quickly spotted. Study the nearby cover, and take two or three more slow steps before stopping again to look around. Don't bulldoze through cover. Instead, act like a deer sneaking  from one spot to another.

Use all available cover as you move. A good stalk will result in a hunter covering no more than 100 yards in an hour. Sometimes, if deer are present, a hunter might not move 100 yards all day. The trick is to move without being seen or winded. Keep track of the wind and head into it at all times.

Deer are reluctant to move in high wind during daylight hours. A slow but cautious approach on a blustery day can place hunters within easy range if the deer are seen before they can spot or smell the approaching hunter. I have, on two occasions, stalked close enough to a buck to touch its rump. That causes an explosive takeoff and a heavy adrenaline rush.

Driving deer means few people and downwind zigzag movements.

*Driving deer is a favorite method among many hunters but too many sportsmen make some major mistakes when they try this method. They gather together into groups of too many people, and they move along in some semblance of a straight line in an attempt to drive deer from too large a piece of bedding cover. Most hunters on a drive make far too much noise as well.

Deer are best driven in short, narrow parcels of thick cover. Strips 100-200 yards long and 25-75 yards wide are ideal. One or two men should begin the drive after standers have been silently placed in likely crossings along the downwind side of the cover.

The drivers should not talk but move in a very slow zigzag, downwind direction and stop every 20 feet. Pause for 15 seconds, and then zigzag downwind back the opposite way to keep deer off balance. Refrain from making more noise than is normally made by walking through cover, and step ahead while watching for any deer movement.

The breeze will carry human scent downwind to the deer, and they will hear and smell the approaching drivers, which is what is needed to make them move. Once the driver stops, deer believe they have seen something, and the animal may bolt downwind toward the waiting standers. Or the deer will try to move back the other way to avoid the oncoming drivers. About that time the drivers stop, and then zigzag back the other way, causing more confusion for the deer as they seem to be closing in on the animal.

Safety must be stressed to avoid a hunting accident. Standers should allow deer to move away from the approaching drivers before taking a shot. A hunter on stand must remain motionless until it's time to shoot because a deer will study the cover ahead for danger as it continues to move downwind.

Find the thickest cover to hunt.

*Thick cover hunting works well late in the season because whitetails have gradually been pushed into thick cover by human activity and nearby gunshots. Choose a swamp a patch of very thick cover that is seldom traveled by humans, and find a high, dry spot where sign shows that deer have recently bedded there.

Try to move into such areas before daylight, and try to be positioned downwind from a bedding area before the sun comes up. Whitetails often feed during the night during firearm season, and then are tucked away and out of sight long before sun-up.

Find a dry place to sit, and get comfortable. Often, if visibility permits, I try to sit within 50 yards of a suspected bedding area. Watch closely for movement. Deer can ease through a cedar swamp without making a sound, and often, the flick of an ear or tail will be the only thing a hunter may see. Allow the animal to step out for a positive visual identification, and be ready to shoot.

Second-season whitetail hunting is fun. There are fewer people afield at that time, and plenty of bucks remain to provide good sport. Try it during the long Thanksgiving Day weekend, and see if you don't agree that deer hunting at this particular time of year may be the best there is.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Hunting The Tiny Covers

The hunter who pays attention to deer movements and thinks small will find some out-of-the-way spots where big bucks live. Some of those locations are easily hunted and some are not, but all are worth trying.

Some of these out-of-the-way spots are found while hunting other game species. Some of the little hidey-holes where bucks lay up are so small that one wonders if there is enough cover for a cottontail rabbit to hide. Take it from me: it doesn't take much cover to hide a big buck when he wants to stay out of sight.

Some of my friends hunt in widely scattered locations. Many also hunt upland game birds, cottontail rabbits and snowshoe hares, wild turkeys and other types of game. The observant ones find buck hideaways that deer use when hunting pressure gets heavy. Most of these tiny covers become even better once snow covers the ground.

Forget about big swamps now. Hunt tiny covers.

A friend pays close attention to such things, and as he walked past an overgrown apple orchard after a hard rain earlier in the season, he spotted a big deer track going over the fence. He'd tried to get his pointer to work into it in search of birds, and the dog refused to go.

Being a patient fellow, he walked his pooch around the orchard, and found the way the buck left that orchard. He also noticed that the tracks went past a big pine tree. Two days later he scaled that tree in the late afternoon after putting the dog in the truck kennel, and took his bow with him. Thirty minutes before the end of shooting time a buck that grossed 152 points jumped the fence and walked past his tree, and he ambushed it.

He's no stranger to seeing big bucks. This one passed the tree at 22 yards, and my friend shot him. It is still his largest buck, but it points out the reasons why hunters should be more attentive to deer sign.

Another guy was out chasing ruffed grouse, and walked past a sumac patch on top of a hill with a good view in all directions. The man stopped to re-tie his boot laces, and was 20 feet from the sumac patch, and out busted a big buck. He was laying up there because most people walked past the sumac without stopping, thinking the cover was much too small to hold a deer.

I tell a personal story of hunting ringneck pheasants near Montrose, Michigan, 35 years ago. I was hunting along the edge of the Flint River. A rooster flushed wild at 30 yards ahead of the dog, and I swung and winged the bird.

Look for tiny islands surrounded by water.

The ringneck caught its balance in mid-air, cocked its wings and soared part-way across the river and landed on a tiny island of marsh grass and a few stunted trees. I checked the water depth, and it was only shin deep, and I crossed. My dog caught some scent, pointed, and as I approached the dog, a big buck jumped up and bolted across the river. He watched the buck splash across, crisscrossed the tiny island, and kicked up the pheasant and downed the bird.

I kept that oddball sighting in mind, and once the firearm season opened, my twin brother George and I waded across to the island just after daybreak. One of us went to the upstream end while the other walked through, and sure enough, we jumped the buck and killed it with one shot.

Talk to some farmers, and they all have tales of bucks laying up in tall weeds along their line fences or next to a barn. They push deer out of swampy little tangles perhaps 20 feet across. These bucks hold in such tiny bits of cover because few people think to look there.

A buddy has an elevated coop near a cornfield where deer congregate every night to feed. There is a tiny, narrow strip of brush 20 feet from it, and many people have seen big bucks get up out of that brush and move out to feed.

Dare to try something different.

The thing is that bow hunters can dare to be different. They don't have to follow the doctrine everyone else throws at them. They can walk through an area so small that it takes less than 10 seconds to get through, and often they find the home of a big trophy buck that no one knows about.

Cattail marshes hold bucks, and I remember a nice buck that my friend Larry Barrett shot as it came out of the cattails. He knew that buck was there, and when he shot it, the buck wheeled and dove back into the cattails and died there.

Don't stick with the status quo. Check things out. Know where these tiny patches of heavy cover are in your hunting area, look for those little nooks and crannies, and try to figure where a buck will come from or go to when leaving. That information is knowledge that you can put it  to good use during the rest of the firearm and muzzleloader seasons.

Try it the next time you hunt. It may produce a nice buck that you've probably overlooked in recent years.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

The Fog Was Thick Enough To Slice

My thoughts of deer hunting were dashed when I arose to find fog so thick it could be sliced like a white wedding cake. The fog wasn't one that hovered six feet off the ground.

This was dirt-hugging ground fog. Thick tendrils of motionless fog. I looked out behind the house to the woods 20 yards away, and the big maple trees were not visible.

It wasn't a white-out, but the gray clouds of clinging fog looked like strips of rotten bandages hanging in the air. I stepped outside, and an eerie glow was given off by the security light. The light itself wasn't visible, but the soft glow was ... from 10 feet away.

I'm here, and I'll walk out to the newspaper tube at the entrance to the driveway off the road. The farther I proceeded down the driveway, the less could be  seen. It was one cautious step after another, and my eyes were downcast, looking at the driveway.

Not much advance planning here.

No flashlight for me. I do these things impetuously, and then wonder why I didn't think it over first. Ah, how can I get lost in my own driveway?

There were no borders or edges to the driveway, and I'd know if I strayed from my appointed rounds. I'd be in the trees. See, I was thinking.

It took several minutes to locate the road, and then a bit of backtracking to find the newspaper tube, and I then knew exactly where I was. I wasn't lost, but I couldn't see the house, garage or security light. Walking a straight line was am eerie and impossible task.

I even knew my desired direction of travel back, but the fog was so thick and clinging that taking one step would take me out of sight of the mailbox and newspaper tube. OK, I thought, I've got to head the opposite way to get to the house. It wasn't cold, but very damp, and a thought popped into my head that I probably should have put on a jacket.

This is the same kind of illogical thinking that took me out in a raging blizzard 31 years ago wearing a down vest, chamois cloth shirt, shoes, no socks, and then get stranded on top of a huge snow drift more than two miles from home. I made it back with only a minor bit of frostbite on my big beak. That's one penalty for being incredibly dumb about leaving home.

So there I stood, 30 yards from my house, and the humble abode was invisible. It's lost in the drifting fog, and even though I know it is there, my poor vision couldn't spot it.

I took two tentative steps, looked back, and knew I could find the mailbox but it too had vanished in the fog. Go back? Nah, press on regardless. Just follow the driveway. How hard can that be?

The problem now is it looks too wide to be my driveway. Am I walking down the road? Nope, a step later a low-hanging branch gave me a soft, wet and sloppy kiss on the face. I'm still in the driveway, and a few steps closer to the disappearing house. Not even the security light could be seen.

I paused, thought for a moment and wondered how exciting my deer hunt would have been if I were stumbling around in circles in the fog-filled woods. A buck could have been standing six feet away, and regardless of how large and white his antlers were, he would have been invisible.

Moving on through the fog.

OK, here we go again. I took another step, and another branch was felt touching my shoulder. This journey back was more difficult than the one going out to get the paper.

Another step and stop. There was nothing visible but white fog in all directions. Another step, and no more branches. I drew a line in the driveway with my toe, took another step forward, looked back and the mark was gone. I took one step back, looked for two minutes before finding the mark, stepped forward again, and drug the side of my shoe in the dirt once again.

I paused, knowing I must be within 20 feet of the house, and it could have been 20 miles away. It was impossible to see. My bearings were checked again with my toe mark in the dirt, and now I'm guessing if I'm in the driveway or not.

Two more steps, and something bulky loomed indistinctly to my left. Too boxy to be a tree, and one more step revealed my utility trailer. I'd almost walked past my house and garage in the murky weather. The trailer gave me my bearings and two steps brought me to my car.

I walked around the end of the car, took two step and could just make out the security light. From there to the garage on on the cement apron, and my house was now a walk in the park.

Thirty yards out, thirty yards back, and lots of excitement along the way.

I never knew going out for the newspaper could pack so much adventure and excitement into one five-minute period. Thoughts of deer hunting were put on the back burner. If I'm going to hunt, I want to know where I'm at and at least be able to see a deer if one offered a shot.

This getting lost while knowing where you are happened to my brother and I one spring day, and all we knew was we were standing in Lake Michigan and casting spoons for brown trout. I took a photo of him with his fish (shown above) and knew exactly where we were. It's really strange knowing your precise whereabouts but not being able to find you way to any other location.

This little episode yesterday was kind of fun. It wouldn't be much fun at night in the woods, but then, I'd never put myself into that situation. I'd like to think I know better but sometimes I doubt myself.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Some Early Winter Thoughts

Snow is just around the corner, and speaking only for myself, my wish is not to get buried in snow like last year when we had 216 inches of the white stuff. Being something of a logical gent, I could easily get along with 50-60 inches as long as it gets cold early and freezes up our local lakes for safe ice fishing.

 Early winter is a breathtaking time of year for me. Cool breezes, bright sunny skies, and glistening snow as far as the eye can see provides a brand of outdoor pleasure only for those willing to spend the time outside to enjoy it.

There are countless things that tap into my winter moods, and from now through late-March, we be thinking winter all the time. Still, in the coming months, there are ample opportunities to make use of our five senses. Winter is made for nature lovers, and outdoor sportsmen can reap the greatest benefits during this period.

These personal delights are just a few of many that will tempt sportsmen over the next few months.

*I relish the sight of straight-as-a-string fox tracks moving across freshly fallen snow and find them mesmerizing. Each track is deeply set in the snow, and they are dark indentations that show pad marks under a bright sun. They move forward, stop, meander from one side of a hill to the other, and then moves on  again as the animal endlessly searches for food.

 *A good buck, its antlers gleaming and polished in the winter sun against a snow-covered cedar, is a beautiful sight. And a person doesn’t have to hunt to enjoy the image of the deer’s haughty attitude once the hunting seasons end.

 *The distant and forlorn sound of a coyote pack on the move send shivers down my spine. Listen to each voice, and determine how many animals there are. Some yip in a shrill manner like a youngster’s voice changing during puberty. Others have a rapid yapping style and some seem to yodel or howl like a wolf. Each voice is distinctive, and it’s easy to tell when they are on the hunt because the sounds continue to move rapidly. Coyote hunting as grown by leaps and bounds as people realize that these are alpha predators.

*The distant smell of a wood fire after a long afternoon of bow, muzzleloader or rifle deer hunting is tangy to the nose. It is the smell of wild places and a home hearth. Nothing fires my belly faster than a sniff of wood smoke drifting on the winter wind.

Count your winter blessings.

*Most folks take vision for granted but for some like myself, who only have one eye that works, we count our blessings when we see snow devils swirling like dervishes on a winter wind or across a broad expanse of unblemished snow. A line of snowshoe tracks by a sportsmen going over a hill and out of sight makes me wonder what may lie on the far side. The sight of white snow buntings flying low and zigzagging over an open field is an enjoyable winter sight.

 *Snowshoe hare hunting is a major winter challenge for me and many others. Watching a white hare run across a white blanket of snow can be a lesson in frustration. Hares can be difficult to see until one learns to look for the black eyes, black ear tips and tiny puffs of snow kicked up by the animal as it dodges in an out of thick cover.

*Kids always used to stick out their tongue to taste falling snowflakes. At age 70, I hardly qualify as a kid but my tongue still catches an occasional flake. It’s just one way to taste the outdoors, and that taste is one that will linger as long as I live. However, I do draw a line at sucking on ice sickles. Why? No clue.

Ice fishing is great winter fun. 

*There is a special magic that comes over me each winter as I auger a hole on a local lake, rig up a bluegill jig on one-pound monofilament, and bait it with a wax worm.  Keep the jigging motion very short and try different depths. A 10-inch ‘gill is a prize beyond compare, and small limber rods and tiny reels require spending a few minutes fighting that fish to the hole where it comes splashing out with water droplets sparkling like small diamonds.

*Touching winter-hardened trees, the soft fur of a downed cottontail or coyote, the cold steel of a shotgun barrel or snow dropping from a cedar bough to trickle down our neck are other treasured reminders of our human status and our ability to enjoy the beauty and splendor of the outdoors during the winter months.

All the pleasures of nature are there for those who will expend the energy required to enjoy a winter day outdoors. And deer hunting on Thanksgiving Day will be my day to again remember why I spend my leisure and work time outdoors as the winter months pass slowly into tomorrow as we chase away thoughts of yesterday.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Buying-Selling Fishing and Hunting Books: Part II

The late Clyde Harbin, unless you happened to be a lure collector some years ago, was hardly a household name. Clyde, over many years, amassed a huge collection of fishing lures and wrote several notable books on Heddon lures.

He was called "The Bassman" by all who knew him, and he was a wise investor in fishing lures. He and I knew each other fairly well, and he had a profound saying that he applied to buying and selling lures, and it's one I've never forgotten: "Ain't nothin' worth nothin' 'less somebody wants it."

It also applies to the buying and selling of fishing and hunting books, which I do a good bit of, and almost anything else of value. You can't sell me your books unless you have something I want, and I can't sell my books if no one wants to buy them. Somewhere during the buying and selling process, Clyde Harbin's southern drawl and his comment always comes home to roost.

Book buying & book selling calls for honesty.

I have bought and sold books for more than 40 years. I've missed some sales because people dislike selling books to a person they don't know, but people like me cannot buy books sight unseen. I try to tell potential sellers that I am honest, but need to see what is for sale before I spend my money on it. Verbal descriptions, unless the other person is in the book business, often are not very accurate or reliable. The reason; many people don't know the terminology.

I've had two sales this week. The money made is hardly enough to send me joyfully on an Alaskan hunting trip. But those two people trusted my name and reputation, sent me their hard-earned money, and I sent them good books. The reverse is true: someone sends me fishing or hunting books, I look them over, determine their value, and if my offer seems fair, I buy them.

All of this began many years ago because I love to read. Reading is something that comes naturally to me. You see, I grew up reading.

Many of my readers know I collect books on fishing and hunting. How many of you know that I buy fishing and hunting books, and sell such books as well? Not many so I'm putting out the word.

Start looking for fishing or hunting books now.

The days of getting ready for winter are here, and probably sooner than later, our spouses will suggest cleaning the attic, basement, barn, garage or spare room. Often, in one of these spots, will be some books. There invariably will be some Reader's Digest books, which are very common and virtually worthless, and there may be some children's books from an earlier era. In some cases there may be books on fishing and hunting, and it is those I am interested in.

They may be common, fairly common or scarce. There are literally thousands of common fishing or hunting titles, which may sell for $5 or less. Some are worth more money, and a very select few are worth a hundred dollars or more. How do you know which ones are worth good money and which ones are not?

You ask Dave Richey. I've been in this buying-selling game for year, and I also do book appraisals. I've spent 18 years compiling a bibliography of fishing, hunting and natural history titles written in the English language. This book will be published when completed, but the half this is completed lists values (where known) of over 30,000 different fishing or hunting titles.

Modesty aside, I am as close to being an expert on fishing and hunting book values as anyone can get. I know what they are worth, and pay fair prices when I buy them.

A bit about me and my honesty.

I've been a full-time outdoor writer for 42 years, and was the staff outdoor writer for The Detroit News in Detroit, Michigan for 23+ years. Major metroplitan daily newspapers do not hire dishonest or unreliable people to work that long for me. I am a Life member of the Outdoor Writers Association of America, and was awarded that organizition's highest honor for longtime service. I am an award-winning outdoor writer with many major writing awards. I don't lie to people, and am honest in my dealings. One doesn't maintain his high degree of acceptance by being dishonest.

What am I looking for? I'm looking for a list of books you have that contain the author's name, book title, publisher, date of publication, and whether it is a hardcover (with or without dust jacket) or paperback. I am not looking for books that have childish crayon scribbling, whiskey glass sweat rings and I do not want ex-library books with card pockets, ink stampings of a library, and I don't buy musty books or those with covers ripped off or missing.

Buying books is much like buying a car. Neither you nor I would buy a car that won't start, is missing two tires, the windshield is broken and the door handle is missing on one side. But, people with books for sale often think a book with a missing page, photo plate or cover is worth money. A first printing of the Gutenberg Bible with the front cover detached but present would be worth some money, but such is not the case for the books I collect, buy, sell and read.

I want to buy books in good to fine condition. I ask you to spend 15 minutes and print out the authors name, book title, year published, and if it is hardcover or paperback. Send the list to me via email, and I will respond within two days. I am not in the market to spend time haggling (although I gladly will if someone wants to sell me a book that really turns my crank) over price. Set a price for each book, and if you are too low, I will make a higher counter-offer. If the book(s) are not what I can use, I will let you know immediately and return them.

Some books are very common, and I am not in the market for Byron Dalrymple or Vlad Evanoff titles at any price. There are many others I don't want, but bear one thing in mind: good books have a look about them. They are well done, printed on good paper, the bindings are tight, and the book has all its pages. A book missing just one page is next door to worthless. A book with an inked owners signature is worth less than one without it unless the book was signed by the author.

A good book is worth more with a dust jacket or with a leather cover and slipcase. Paperbacks are generally worth less than a hardcover book, although there are a very few exceptions to that rule.

What kind of books do I need?

What do I want to buy? I'm looking for books about ruffed grouse or wild turkey hunting. I need good trout fishing titles. Some deer hunting books published before 1980 are desirable. Some muskie fishing titles are books that can find a home with me, as is true with books by Robert Traver. Books published by Amwell Press, Briar Patch Press, Safari Press, Derrydale Press, Premier Press or Trophy Room Books are some publishers I look for, and I'm not interested in most anthologies, bass books, titles about raccoon hunting, and books that cover many different outdoor topics.

I also have books I will trade for your desirable titles. Remember one thing: outdoor books, by and large, sell for $5-10 on the used-book market. Some sell for hundreds of dollars. Not all outdoor books are scarce and worth big money; in fact, very few are. However, that doesn't mean you can't have several books that may make you a few hundred dollars, but remember that such books are scarce. Scarce means they were printed in very low numbers, and time has seen many lost to fires or landfills. A scarce book is one that may be found perhaps once or twice over several years by a busy bookseller.

 Know too that booksellers (and buyers like me) must make a profit if we are to stay in business. Show me a $100 book, and depending on author and title and my needs at the time, I will probably offer $50 for it. If it is a $10 book, and I want it for a customer, I may spend $3-5 for it. Some may think this unfair, but doing business means making some money. Books may not sell for one or two years. That means I have money tied up for up to two years on a hunch that it might sell. This requires me to buy books at a fair but discounted price. Any honest bookseller will tell potential sellers the same thing

If you have a $100 book, and try to sell it yourself for that price, it's very likely you'll still have the book for two or more years. It’s entirely possible you’ll never sell it.

Book prices go up and down in value.

Books also go up and down in price according to the never-ending law of supply and demand. If the demand is high, and the book is difficult to find, people (including honest booksellers) will pay more money for it. If the book is common, and there is no demand, no one will buy it. That is why they call it doing business.

So, with these thoughts in mind, if you find some fishing and hunting books this year while cleaning out the attic, barn, basement or garage, or if you inherit some books from a deceased relative, 15 minutes of your time may provide some extra money. If the book is scarce, and I ask to examine it, I will pay your postage for mailing it to me for a seven-day examination period plus an offer of whatever I feel the book is worth to me. When books are mailed, they should be sent by 1st class mail, insured and with delivery confirmation that the book has been delivered and received by me. This guards you and/or me from someone saying they didn't get the book(s).

I'm just about out of space. In the coming weeks, please look over your spare fishing and hunting books, and let me know what is available. I will make a fair offer for any book I decide I may buy, and will pay your shipping fee. One doesn't stay in this business long without being fair and honest, and I'd like to prove it to you. In the event you are looking for a specific book, check out Scoop's Books on this website. If you seek a specific title, and it's not listed here, let me know what book you want and I will do a no-charge search.

I have conducted no-charge searches for many people. It's one of my services, and although there are many books that are difficult to find, if a copy exists and it is for sale, I can often track it down for a client.

Hope to hear from you soon at <dave@daverichey.com> .

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Promoting Scoop's Books For Christmas

I've always been a reader, and when the snow is deep and heavy and the paper isn't delivered on time this winter, I'll read the cereal box while munching on my favorite breakfast flakes.

I got stuck once in Galena, Alaska before a moose hunt when my flight couldn't cross the mountains. I'd meant to pick up a novel or two in Anchorage, and was barely able to make my connection. No time to shop for books, and the three days spent in a boarding house at the tune of $250 a day without something to read, nearly drove me nuts.

More people are reading now than in many years. They've given up on the idiotic drivel that passes for television programming, and have gone back to reading which entertains you in your mind through the use of the written word. Don't believe me: check seats on both sides of the aisles on commercial airline flights. Most passengers are reading.

Why read? Because it makes more sense than the pablum being served on television.

Which brings me to my shameless self-promotion of Scoop's Books, my website for used and out-of-print fishing and hunting books. There will be over 400 fishing and hunting titles listed before next weekend, and there are low-priced, mid-range and high-priced books for sale.

I've resisted charging readers to read my daily website, and haven't taken any advertising for the six years my blog and website has been up, but it takes money to pay the freight. I do this by selling books about fishing and hunting to folks like you who want to learn more about fishing and hunting, and learning is indeed possible.

There are numerous books about muskie fishing and turkey hunting, two of my specialties, and there are some wonderful buys. Many of these books are scarce and expensive, but all are fairly priced.

This listing of 400+ books and 30-something old outdoor magazines comes just in time for Christmas shopping for the angler/hunter in your life. Checking out what is available is only a few keystrokes away.

When you open my website <www.daverichey.com> you'll come to my Home Page. At the right side of my blog is a link to Scoop's Books. Click on that, and then click on the fishing and hunting book link.

Ordering and paying for books.

Scroll down through the books or magazines, and the books are listed in alphabetical order according to the author's last name. Each book is accurately described with all necessary information including the book condition and price. People who order books from me must pay with a bank money order (preferable) or PayPal. I do not accept credit cards nor do I accept business or personal checks.

I advise customers to insure their payment to me and obtain a delivery confirmation that allows them to track their money, and when books are shipped, I also insure the books for their value, obtain delivery confirmation, and both parties are protected. Postage fees are $7 for the first book and $3 for each additional title.

This may seem high until you consider the books are insured for full value and there is the delivery confirmation. Handling sales in this manner is proof that I ship what is ordered and paid for.

This is very important: I advise potential book buyers to query me first at <dave@daverichey.com> to determine if a book is still in stock. Often, two or more people order the same book at about the same time, and if it is a one-of-a-kind title, one buyer is satisfied and one is not. A quick email eliminates that problem, and I'll hold a book for seven days awaiting payment. If you don't see what you want, write and ask me if it is available but not listed. I have several thousand fishing and hunting books available.

Do I handle good books? The answer is yes, but I remind readers that I also offer a free search service for specific titles if they are not in my inventory. Search services are free providing the buyer isn't having other booksellers try to find the same book. Such duplication of effort makes one bookseller happy while ticking off the other sellers.

I try to offer books in the best possible condition, and those conditions (in decreasing order from best to worse) are Mint, Very Fine, Fine, Very Good and Good. I rarely offer such hole-filled as Fair or Reading Copy, but occasionally a Very Scarce book is offered in these lesser conditions because of their rarity.

I buy books, and specifically your books. Feel free to query me.

I buy books as well, and welcome the chance to consider yours. I prefer buying Fine or better books, and readers can query by giving me the author's name, book title, date of publication, and mention any flaws. I specialize in muskie fishing and turkey hunting books, but cover everything from bass fishing to trout fishing, from antelope to turkey hunting, and almost everything else.

Keep checking Scoop's Books daily for new additions, and make note of deletions, and let me know if there is a specific fishing or hunting book you need. My books are accurately described and fairly priced.

Fishing or hunting books, anyone? Here is your chance to fill Christmas stockings early. Oh, please read the page before the book listings. It is filled with information you should know before ordering.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors