Hunting is a privilege

Dawn was blushing the eastern sky with a blaze of fiery color when a drake and hen mallard slanted down over the treetops, lost altitude in a banking left turn and settled to the river in front of me.

One day soon, I thought, we may meet again during the duck hunting season. Those thoughts carried me back to past hunts where I asked myself why I hunt.

It's a question hunters quiz themselves about. Few can answer for others, butt simply stated,  hunting means different things to different people.

Hunting is a matter of choice for those who love the outdoors.

Some hunt to enjoy the whisper of duck wings ghosting over a marsh before dawn; others like the damp, musty odor of the autumn woods; and others seek the challenge of spotting and stalking wild game.

The challenge of pitting knowledge and skill against a wild animal is part of the reason, but other factors often enter the picture. For many,  it can mean the chance to eat wild game at every meal.

Perhaps it's knowing that the hunter's role in conservation has always been one of keeping game bird and animal populations in line with their food supplies and habitat requirements, and protecting them if needed.

Michigan's hunting seasons are winding down but they offer millions of licensed sportsmen the freedom to work the woods and fields, lawfully carry a firearm or bow and arrow, and peaceably follow a pastime as old as man himself.

Hunting means many things to me, as it does to almost anyone that shares my love of wild places and wild things. The out-of-doors has so much to offer,  both to hunters and non-hunters alike.

Hunting is a privilege that most sportsmen hold dear.

Hunting has never contributed to the decline of any game animal or bird during modern times. Many times hunter license dollars and taxes on equipment have been used to increase game habitat, hunter education, fund studies or any number of other wildlife-related programs.

An overpopulation of any wild game results in death by starvation, surely a less humane way to perish than by a hunter's arrow or bullet.

But the actual killing of wild game is something I've never been terribly comfortable with although I've taken my share of bear, bobcat, caribou, coyotes, deer, elk, grouse, hares, moose, muskox, quail, pheasants, rabbits, sharptails, squirrels, waterfowl and woodcock.

The tinge of remorse I feel doesn't mean I am against hunting, but it means I hold my hunted animals in deep respect. My belief is that hunting plays a definite role in wildlife conservation. Man cannot be a sophisticated hunter without respect and love for the wild game we hunt.

Hunting is a serious feeling, something described by many as a deep inner experience. Man, as the ultimate predator, holds the power of life and death in his hands. Hunters know and accept this honorably.

This power means that hunters must know their equipment, know what it can do, and be skilled enough to place a shot so the animal or bird is killed cleanly, without suffering. It also means that hunters must know and obey hunting laws and respect the rights and property of others.

A hunting license gives no one the right to a full game bag, or a two-buck limit. It grants sportsmen the opportunity and privilege of hunting ... nothing more, nothing less.

Hunting promises nothing except the opportunity to be outdoors with bow or firearm in hand.

I hunt because I need to hunt. It satisfies a need within myself to go afield in pursuit of wild game and enjoy the wonders of nature.

It offers me the thrill of an exciting stalk through thin cover, the fleeting glimpse of a wide-antlered buck, the explosive sound of a ruffed grouse thundering from an alder run, or simply the chance to hunt and be afield.

The taking of game is secondary, ranking far below the mental and physical experience of the hunt.

The hunt, and not the kill, is what hunting is all about. And it is enough for me.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Cruising to spot gobblers

One thing about turkey gobblers always holds true. There are far fewer big longbeards running around northern Michigan than jakes.

The other day I spotted a huge longbeard in a field 15 miles from Traverse City. The bird was wandering alone although two or three hens weren't very far away.

What struck me about this bird, besides his larger than normal size, was his beard. The beard was at least 10 inches long, and appeared to be as wide as a big paint brush. It hung ponderously off his chest, and swayed from side to side as he walked.

The beard doesn't show in this photo but it's there and it's big.

I noted the time of day, drove a half-mile down the road and out of sight of the gobbler, turned around and drove past him for another look. From this angle the bird looked even larger, and the beard was dragging the ground whenever he bent over to feed.

This was a gobbler of extraordinary proportions. Such birds are difficult to keep hid because he seemed bound and determined to stand out in the open where he could be seen by every vehicle that traveled the busy road.

We drove away, and the next day we went back looking for this Monarch of the open fields. Sure enough, he was in the same field, walking the edge of a wood lot, and about 100 yards off the paved road.

The question is how long will he stay there? If he keeps showing himself, every turkey hunter west of Interlochen and north of US-31 will be trying to hunt him. The bird is on private land, and seems enthralled with the area.

It's my assumption that the big gobbler and some hens are roosting nearby. I see him about two hours after sunrise, and the birds never stray too far from this spot.

Company came from Wisconsin and spent three days here, and I didn't have any chance to go out checking on the big gobbler. I know for certain that at least two other hunters know about him, and suspect he has been seen  by many more people.

Too much traffic will spook birds.

The burning question is whether he will still be around when turkey season opens. I spotted another car parked along the road, and figured he was watching the bird.

He had binoculars to his face when I pulled up. He turned, saw me and whispered "Big bird." I nodded in agreement.

The bird walked off into the woods, and he asked if I had known the bird was there. I told him I'd been watching the gobbler for a few days.

"Are you planning to hunt him?" he asked. I told him that I might if he sticks around.

The burning question about this gobbler.

"Do you think he will still be in this area when the season opens," he asked. "I just spotted him on my way home,  and I've never seen a beard like that before."

His was a valid question. Would this bird still be in the area when the turkey season opens? It's not very likely.

"I doubt if he will still be here then," I said, being honest with the guy. "A bird that big attracts a great deal of attention, and I suspect people pressure will force him to move on.

"How far he and the hens will move is just a guess. I'd expect him to breed those hens before the season opener, and then he will be off in search of other hens. He could be several miles away when the season kicks off."

Would I hunt him? Certainly, if I could get hunting permission for that land. However, my guess is he will be gone in a week or less because other people now know where he is, and if cars continue to stop and watch him, the pressure will force him to get on his way.

And, perhaps that is a good thing. Such big birds are tempting, and poachers often figure a way to shoot such birds out of season. That is one reason why I didn't say how far west of Interlochen Corners or how many miles north.

I may go looking for him again tomorrow, but it wouldn't surprise me if he is gone already. Perhaps I'll be lucky and find him again, and then, I may never see that gobbler again.

The next time I spot him, if there is a next time, there will not be any notations in my blog. The only reason I've written about the bird is because of his size and because I know he won't hang around there long.

He will shove off, move elsewhere, and it's likely he will take over the hens of a smaller gobbler, and soon he will be following the hens. They will keep him moving, and the more nearby eyes and ears there are, the safer that bird will be.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

How not to shoot a gobbler

Turkey season is still about a month away but I've been thinking about turkey hunting all day. I wonder: How many ways are there to miss a longbeard? Let me recount several ways to totally miss a big gobbler. Some are easy for most people, and other sportsmen may have some rather innovative ways that can lead to a complete miss.

My neighbor is seeing about 25 birds daily. He was hoping for an early-season tag but settled for a third season hunt, and since I'll do my best to call one within 30 yards for him, I want him to know the many ways that missing a big gobbler can happen.

*Missing a gobbler with a shotgun is something to ponder as opening day approaches. It's been many years since I first teased three Toms close enough for a shot. My hunting companion lifted her head off the stock as she shot, and any head movement causes the shot pattern to go high. All three birds ran off unharmed. Moral: Make a conscious effort to keep your head down on the stock and squeeze off the shot when the sight settles on that area where the head and neck join. Moral: The job is done right when the shotgun goes bang and the gobbler falls over without a wiggle.

I believe shooting gobblers in the woods is easier than hunting the fields.

*Another time a person got so caught up in watching a cautious gobbler approach that when it was time to shoot, she was hyperventilating so bad she felt faint. Her companion shot and killed the bird. Moral: Take a deep breath, relax and concentrate on the shot. Another trick to remember is to take a breath every few seconds.

*A buddy tried to swing around a tree and shoot while a big gobbler approached from the rear. A human has as much chance of swinging around, shooting and killing a gobbler from an awkward-angle as most people have of flipping the light switch and getting out of the room before the light goes out. Moral: Sit still, don't call or move, and wait for the cautious gobbler to walk around your location and step in front of the shouldered shotgun. If the shotgun isn't up to your shoulder long before then, you deserve to not get a shot. You also deserve to miss.

*A buddy of mine wasn't paying attention one morning. He had heard a bird gobble in front of him, and didn't realize it was circling and looking for a hen. He eventually spotted the decoy after he moved his leg to relieve a nasty cramp. Moral: Once a turkey gobbles, and starts moving your way, don't move. Let the cramp develop, wait for the gobbler to stick his head up out of cover, shoot him and then scream with pain.

Sometimes a hunter must tough out the pain to get a shot.

*I can't vouch for this one but it was told to me by a man who speaks the truth. He and a hunter were walking softly through the woods when a gobbler ripped off a full-throated gobble about 50 yards away. The two men sank against nearby trees, the hunter reached into his pocket for a shotgun shell, stuffed it into the breech of his 10 gauge magnum, and silently eased the pump closed. One brief call, and the bird double-gobbled, and stepped out into the open. The hunter was set up perfectly, and the shotgun's front bead settled on the head-neck area, and he softly clicked off the safety and pulled the trigger. A faint click was heard but the gobbler hauled his tail feathers out of the area. Moral: Do not do like he did and put a roll of Life Savers in the same pocket as the shotshells. Nothing happens when the firing pin encounters the end of a roll of candy.

*Don't just slap a scope or red-dot sight on the shotgun, and figure you are set. A guy I once knew gradually learned that scopes or red-dot sights can be an asset in the turkey woods. It's also important to sight them in so you know where the shot charge is going. He didn't do that, and when he shot, a tree limb fell and almost hit the gobbler on the head. Moral: Do your homework and know how the shotgun shoots with a certain load. Never, ever mix up shotshells of the three sizes (No. 4, 5 or 6 shot) in your pocket. My cornshucking pump 12 mag shoots No. 5s very well but a No. 4 or 6 shot leaves shot pattern holes big enough for a gobbler to walk through. Moral: Carry just one size of shot and pattern the shotgun long before the season opens.

*I took a guy out several years ago, and we had a long walk to the hunting area. We stopped so he could take a breather, and he leaned his unloaded scoped shotgun against a tree in the pre-dawn darkness. He got slightly turned around in the dark, bumped his shotgun, and the scope hit a big rock when it fell. I called a nice gobbler to him a half-hour later, and ... you guessed it. The scope was knocked out of kilter, and he missed the bird. Moral: Never lean a loaded or unloaded shotgun against anything. If necessary, unload it, leave the action open, and lay it softly on the ground.

Avoid being surprised by the sudden appearance of a nearby gobbler.

*Almost last are these two dandies. I was calling for a first-time hunter, and this young lady was cautioned that the birds were circling and she had to sit still, don't move a muscle and let the gobbler walk in front of her shotgun. I kept saying in a soft whisper: "Sit still. I can hear the birds 20 yards behind us. Don't move and don't make a sound. Five minutes later a gobbler walked up from behind her, passed within 10 feet of her right elbow, and she gave a startled "Eek!" Moral: This lady missed her bird without firing a shot because even though she was warned, she wasn't mentally prepared for a bird at close range.

*Another woman, this one from out west, came to shoot a gobbler. I eventually called up a nice gobbler to within 20 yards. She missed a standing quartering-away shot with her bow, and I handed her a shotgun. She insisted she had killed the bird but I knew she had missed. She said "I'll shoot it with the shotgun," and proceeded to miss it standing, head-up, now at 30 yards. The shot charge tore up the turf 10 yards from the bird, and again she insisted she had killed it. The bird ran into the woods, and we flushed the big gobbler and it took wing. I told her that was her bird. She insisted her bird was dead so we ended that hunt. Moral: It's easy to miss a gobbler, but if you miss, have enough common sense to fess up and admit it.

Even I, believe it or not, have missed a turkey gobbler. But that was a long time ago, and is a story for another day.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Sputtering about DNRE's wildlife problems

Guess what? Fishing and hunting isn't the same as it was 10 years ago, and it won't be the same in the future as it is now. Many changes have taken place over the past several years.

And not all of them are for the better. Fishing and hunting has become fragmented. How so? There are many ways to look at our natural resource problems, such as:

Years ago, a bear hunter bought a license and went hunting. Now, we have sound, scientific wildlife management, and that means more bears are being killed each year under a quota system than were ever killed under the old rules when anyone could by a tag and hunt bruins.

And that's OK for now because we have more bears than ever before, and the animals are moving into new territories, and management means determining the social carrying capacity of bruins. How many bears will people tolerate near their homes before they start squawking?

We have elk hunts now with some rather new rules. The rules only affect those who draw an elk tag from now on. I've applied for an elk tag ever since they had their first hunt in 1964. I've never been drawn, but instead of drawing names from those who have applied and have missed being picked, the DNRE are enforcing the newer rules.

Bear numbers are up and the animals are spreading out.

And frankly, I'm not the only one who has applied and been denied. It means that hunters who drew an elk tag years ago can still draw another one. Does this make sense? Is it sour grapes on my part? No, it just means that me and many people are dissatisfied with a system that makes no sense. No one should ever draw another elk tag if they've already drawn one but that's not how it works now.

The DNRE has had ample opportunities to allow Region II turkey hunters to obtain some private-land turkey tags that would guarantee them a first- or second-season hunt for those applicants who own property up here, but pressure from other groups is louder than the mumbles of regional landowners. So, private-land turkey tags can be obtained in the Upper Peninsula in those counties where birds are hunted, and throughout southern Lower Peninsula counties, but again Region II landowners get the short and dirty end of the turkey-permit stick.

It appears the DNRE is caving in to special interest groups. In case you haven't noticed, the special interest groups are in the face of the DNRE biologists to get what they want, not what is fair to the general public.

Do you remember when Michigan had their statewide trout season opener on the last Saturday in April? And then, in hopes of streamlining our fishing seasons, the DNRE allowed Lower Peninsula muskie, pike and walleye fishing to open at the same time as the trout season. There are many sport shops in the Lower Peninsula, and this ruling 10-15 years ago, denied sportsmen two opening days -- trout and walleye, etc., and simply lumped them all together.

There is nothing streamlined about our fishing or hunting regulations. Some conservation officers say they must reader the annual fishing or hunting digests time and again before trying to enforce the law. The language is stilted and cumbersome, and an attorney would probably have trouble defining what some of the DNRE legalese language really means. Some rules can make violators out of perfectly honest people. Make anything too difficult, and many give up for fear of unwittingly breaking the law.

Guess which one season most people prefer, and in resounding fashion? It isn't trout, which are harder to catch. Those people who once opened the trout season, and then on May 15, opened the walleye season years ago, jumped for joy. They got more than two additional weeks of walleye fishing, and the sporting goods stores lost a wonderful chance to make money on the second opener, which is now gone.

The DNRE, currently backed into a corner by angry deer hunters, have been taking it on the chin. The DNRE's little dog-and-pony show went on the road to discuss issues with deer hunters several years ago, and they were confronted by many angry people who were tired of not seeing deer and even more tired of horrible deer management policies.

Deer numbers are down in Regions I and II.

Trust me, in many parts of the state, the chances of seeing and killing a deer is as high as drawing one of the aforementioned elk tags. Southern Michigan counties still have lots of deer, but such is not the case in the Upper Peninsula and northern Lower Peninsula.

These hunters were and still are clamoring for change, and rightfully so. I've backed the DNR for more years than I can remember, but things are changing ... and frankly folks, it's not for the better. Deer are plumb hard to find in the U.P., and things aren't much better in the northern half of the Lower Peninsula. But guess where the deer are: on private land in the southern Lower Peninsula counties. The big numbers aren't Up North, no matter what anyone says.

This deal over deer and deer hunting is far from over. The DNR needs to begin mandatory deer registration, and do away with the two-license deal. If they want to make more money, make it mandatory that hunters register their first deer before they can buy a second license. Hunters no longer believe the estimated Oct. 1 deer numbers, and they certainly don't believe the  final totals that show deer kills higher than what anyone believes, especially those sportsmen who do not see a whitetail buck during the combined hunting seasons.

Last year was the first time in history that I can remember when the DNRE came out and positively admitted the deer kill was down dramatically. Is this a harbinger of things to come? I suspect it is.

Now, in an effort to raise more money and to potentially alienate more people, the DNRE will be selling some permits for some of the species that are difficult to draw -- like the bull elk tags. If you've got enough money, you too can bypass the lottery system, and bid lots of money. This further tips the scales away from the ordinary sportsman, and will become the most direct cause of higher license fees and perhaps even fewer hunters.

And, while we are at it, it means the rich get what they want while the average sportsman get little or nothing. Go over to Germany and try to hunt. It will cost an arm and a leg, and a lengthy training session before you'll take your firearm into the woods.

Now, because of one case of the Chronic Wasting Disease scare in Kent County a few years ago, baiting has been eliminated in the entire Lower Peninsula. In the meantime, baiting continues in the Upper Peninsula. Many people began cheating in the Lower Peninsula where they continue to bait. Does it make sense to have legal baiting in one part of the state but not in the rest? Not to me it doesn't.

Ask the DNRE about the compliance rate for not baiting. They maintain the compliance rate is high, but bait is still being sold at gas stations, and someone is certainly buying and using it.

And all of this mess because of one CWD disease in a private enclosure. Everyone must pay the price for that solitary animal. Did people resent this, and is it sound scientific management? It makes one wonder. The DNRE and Department of Agriculture should get their collective acts together.

Has deer and turkeys suffered in the northern Lower Peninsula. You bet. Folks, where I live we had more than 180 inches of snow two winter ago and more than125 inches so far this season. I've seen very few gobblers, and only a few hen turkeys this winter. If the DNRE's weird sense of having turkey feeding sites weren't so laughable, I'd cry.

If we have fewer turkeys this spring than in the past, we can look to a lack of a winter feeding program. Turkeys are big birds and burn a lot of energy launching into flight from the ground, but to expect birds to burn up even more fat reserves during winter months by flying up to an elevated position for corn, is a bit silly. Besides, the birds scatter the feed from above, and the deer come to it on the ground, thereby creating another problem.

But never mind me. I get a bit peckish after snowblowing for three months, getting the blower stuck once in deep snow three weeks ago, and watching the road plow fill in my driveway. Some things, like silly management policies, get me hacked off.

Am I in a bit of a nasty mood? You bet! Michigan hunters once stood tall and proud of their DNRE, our deer management policies, and the fact that we had more combined deer hunters and man-days of deer hunting than any other state in the nation was something we were proud of.

We don't have much to be proud of now except in areas where there is a Quality Deer Management program. Hunters in such areas are now seeing more bucks and larger animals in some of those counties than ever before.

The state's deer numbers are down in Regions 1 and II.

Folks, it goes against the grain of Mother Nature to try to maintain a status quo, year after year. It's impossible to accomplish, and management of our deer herd is sorely lacking in its focus.

I never see a wildlife biologist in the field, and in the words of a fine wildlife biologist who retired a few years ago, "the new wildlife biologists don't have any dirt on their boots."

One might wonder if they even own a pair of boots. They spend little, if any time, in the field. They manage by building computer models, and I for one, know that this philosophy really isn't working.

And sadly, the biologists seldom want to talk with landowners and hunters, especially in northern counties. They know they'll get an ear full, and most of the anger generated their way these days is justified.
Perhaps we need a shake-up in state government.

One doesn't have to look hard or into a crystal ball to see that state government has wrecked the economy, our jobs and our livlihood, and politicians have left taxpayers holding the bag ... once again.

This is the adult version of the old snipe hunt trick we played on other kids when we were young. It was funny back then, but nobody is laughing now because many of us are left holding that empty bag. It's difficult to compare deer hunting 20 years ago with what we now have because there can't be a comparison. It gets worse every year.

And excuse me for not being politically correct. The DNRE is no longer correct and proper. The proper alphabet soup name is now DNRE. The "E" is for Environment, and where the DNR once rolled easily off our tongue, adding an "E" doesn't seem to have done much for this once-proud state agency.

The people who are most visible to the public -- our conservation officers -- are often seen in the field but the same cannot be said for many of the DNRE's wildlife biologists. What a sad situation., especially when it comes to some of them and their people skills.

Fortunately, we still have some good wildlife biologists. Not many but some good people still remain, but when they retire, who will we have to carry on proper wildlife management of our natural resources?

It makes me wonder.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

George and I fished and hunted together for many years

It was one of those days when it felt good to be cleaning my steelhead rods and reels. It gave me something to do while procrastinating over figuring our income tax.

I was puttering with a light spinning reel with 4-pound line when a memory jolted me. It was about brother George, and he was coming down the Little Manistee River in early April with a rampaging steelhead on his line. It was the first of many fish we'd catch that day.

"Try and get a net under this guy," he hollered. "I hooked him a quarter-mile upstream, but he's riding the current broadside. Stick your net in the water, and I'll put him head-first into the net. Ready?"

My net was pulled from under my belt behind my back, and my rod butt went in underneath it. The fish was 10 feet upstream as my net went into the water, and George leaned back on the rod to get the fish up onto the surface, and at the right time, he dropped the tip and the fish dove into the net. My job was to lift it out of the water.

George poses with a near-30-pound river king salmon.

"Good dip," he said, as we waded ashore. The steelhead, a red-sashed male with bright cheeks and gill covers, was 16 pounds of broad-beamed raw power. George worked the No. 4 wiggler fly free, eased the big guy into the river, and with a splash it was gone.

Several years before George died in 2003, I took him caribou hunting in northern Quebec. From home to Montreal, I told him there were two things to remember: never shoot the first caribou bull you see, and don't shoot a cow caribou. They have very small antlers.

We hunted together, and I ran him down the lake in a square-stern canoe with a small outboard motor, pointed to the top of a tall and open "baldie," a treeless hill-top where long-range visibility was superb.

He would use binoculars, and study any caribou seen. My plans were to scout the south part of the lake. I found an area where countless caribou had walked through, and the trail looked like a cattle trail. I was looking for a good downwind spot to sit when a shot was heard.

It could only be George. The others in our party were far to the north of us. I returned to the canoe, motored over to where I'd dropped him off, and saw him trudging down the hill, carrying something. The closer he got, the more it looked like a cow caribou head.

"Didn't I say not to shoot a cow?" I asked. He bowed his head in mock shame, and said: "But I'll have the biggest cow caribou rack in camp."

The other hunters teased him about it, and he made up for it by shooting a very nice bull two days later. The razzing didn't bother him.

Another time we hunted Le Chateau Montebello, a famous resort in Quebec. We were there to hunt deer, and the guide told us we would be lucky to see a deer. If we did, he said, it would be a shooter.

The guy put on one-man drives, and I've been involved in deer drives for most of my life. I can tell good drives from bad, and this guy was an expert. He walked softly, yipped like a beagle puppy occasionally, and never hurried the deer. They just moved slowly ahead of him.

Far off, on the third day, I heard him yip softly to let us know he was coming. It was a large area to watch, but 10 minutes later a white-antlered 8-pointer eased from the woods and stood, side-lit by the sun against a pine tree, and it was a beautiful sight to behold.

He turned to look the opposite way, and I slowly raised the rifle and shot. He went down, and he almost beat me to that buck. It was the only deer we saw, but he wasn't disappointed. He loved listening to the wolves howl at night, and was happy that one of us took a good buck.

"Good shot, good buck, and where's the guide?" He asked. "This buck weighs well over 200 pounds, and we will need help to move it."

The guide showed up, we boiled a kettle to have hot tea with our sandwiches, and took a four-mile hike to his truck and a short drive to the deer. It is the only whitetail I've taken in Quebec, but it's important because we shared the hunt in a unique Canadian location.

Neither of us have ever been competitive with each us, but years ago before I wrote the first story about pink salmon runs in Upper Peninsula streams, George was with me to share what might or might not be an adventure. We didn't know if we'd find any pink salmon.

We would fish pink salmon in the morning and hunt bears in the afternoon, and soon found fish in the Big Huron River. They usually spawn on odd-numbered years and we found hordes of them on the first gravel bar above the river-mouth.

We'd guided river fishermen for 10 years, and began catching pinkies on flies. An orange fly tied on a No 6 hook produced best, and they were some of George's tried-and-true steelhead and salmon patterns. The fish weren't big but were very aggressive.

"Here's another one," he said. "I'm taking it in to the store to get it weighed. I figure it to be just over two pounds. There's no state record for these fish so let's set one this trip."

Back he came, and it weighed 2 lbs., 3 oz., and so I tried to beat him. Mine weighed 2 lbs., 4 oz. The next day we caught fish of 2 lbs., 5 oz, and then 2 lbs., six oz. On the last day George caught one that weighed 2 lbs., 7 oz., and it became a state record that stood for many years.

I was tickled for him, and he got a Master Angler award, and the mounted fish hung in the DNR offices in Lansing for years before his record was broken. He didn't care. He'd had his "15 minutes of fame."

And that was the neat thing about brother George. He could go with the flow, be happy doing anything outdoors, and greet each new day with a smile on his face. He had the capacity to make people feel good.

Geprge was always game for almost anything. I set up a bear hunt in the Upper Peninsula one year, and although he had hunted bruins near St. Helens, he wanted an Upper Peninsula bear.

We hunted near Marquette and near the Laughing Whitefish River, and it was there on a nice September day, that he took a good bruin.

The animal walked in, stopped near the edge of the swamp, stood up to survey the bait site, and slowly dropped down to all four feet. The bear was cagey and moved slowly to circle the bait. There was no wind, and scenting conditions were bad, and it played the role of being sneaky.

George could see the animal at times, watched the bracken ferns move as the bruin walked through them, but could never see enough to take an accurate shot. Finally, apparently satisfied that all was well, the bear strolled slowly into the bait site and stood facing him.

He waited until the bruin turned and offered a broadside shot, and one shot from his 30-06 took out the heart and lungs and broke the off-side shoulder. His bear weighed a bit over 200 pounds, and it was a wonderful prize for my twin brother.

George and I shared 64 years of fishing and hunting in many different locations across Canada and the United States, and I saw that he could accompany me on some great and wonderful fishing and hunting trips. It's early spring now, with more time to think, and to reminisce about those great memories of the Richey twins on the trail together is something that will always stick with me. In memory of George Richey, 1939-2003.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

One never has enough fishing-hunting books or lures

There are more tackle boxes in my basement storeroom that any sane man needs. Every one is almost overflowing with fishing lures, so why should I need more?

It's a bit like fishing and hunting books. A man can never have and read too many fishing or hunting titles, and I'm as guilty of buying more of each than I will probably ever need.

There are four huge tackle boxes filled just with muskie plugs, and a smaller one that holds some smaller muskie lures. I've got some 10-inch muskie plugs and great huge spinnerbaits in the big boxes. However, every year I see someone with a Bobbie or Eddie bait or a Suick painted in a color I don't have.

It doesn't mean that the other guy's oddly colored Suick hasn't worked for him. It could, and there I'd be without one painted in that strange color that every muskie fishermen needs to own. Sadly, seldom do they produce fish, but against all odds, they could!
 
There are two more beastly huge tackle boxes filled with nothing but salmon spoons and big salmon plugs. I own most colors of J-Plugs, Dardevle, Silver Streaks and other fishing spoons, but I keep bumping into newer sizes with different paint and  tape patterns that seem to beckon to me with eyes that look deep into mine and seem to whisper "Buy me and take me home!" It's the old siren song.

A big red-white Dardevle produced this big Isle Royale pike.

The eyes have it. I've been adding stick-on eyes to my lures for many years, and now more and more lures are being made with prominent and well-colored eyes. I think eyes make lures more appealing to fish but wonder if they really produce more fish.

OK, how about Herring Dodgers? I have two smaller boxes filled with them. There are red ones, white and yellow ones, chrome plated, some home-painted a dull black color (don't laugh because they work ... sometimes), half silver-half bronze, chartreuse models, and some with dazzling tape and some without. There are small ones, large ones, those of normal size, and Hoochies. Got me some of them too.

If we're going after lake trout I tote 50-60 different sizes, shapes and colors of cowbells and perhaps half that many different colors of P-nuts. Another tackle box is filled with various trolling weights for inland trout lakes, and some stainless steel needles to sew shiners onto my hook.

Dardevles are a favorite Canadian lure.

One tackle box is loaded with more Dardevles in a variety of colors although my best pike fishing comes with two color combinations -- red with a white stripe and silver back or yellow with five red diamonds and a brass back. There are other pike spoons and plugs in the box, and although most of my largest pike come on the two colors noted above, there are another two dozen other patterns for when the pike get picky. And then there is a box of spinnerbaits in several sizes that work for muskies and pike.

Oh my, I nearly forgot. One box is filled with body baits like Rapalas, Rebels, FasTracs, Long A Bombers and other similar lures. They too are in an infinite variety of great colors, and some have never been in the water but boy, do they look pretty.

Still another box is filled with wood FlatFish and Tadpollys from my guiding days when I used the dropback method on the Manistee River below Tippy Dam or when trolling Manistee, Pentwater or Pere Marquette lakes for late-fall steelhead. The FlatFish come in two varieties: those with the tiny treble gang hooks or with two larger hooks. In that box are extra hook hangers for the small treble hooks that I prefer to use.

I'm a big fan of vertical jigging on the Detroit, Kalamazoo, Saginaw and Tittabawassee rivers, and there are two heavy tackle boxes filled with jigs weighing from 1/8 to 1 ounce, depending on the depth of water and current speed at each location. Half of one box is filled with oodles of grub bodies and twister-tail bodies in a rainbow of colors.

And as nice as freshly painted jigs look in their trays, I often scrape the paint off and use just the bare lead and a lip-hooked minnow. It works!

One small box holds nothing but Mepps spinners, and another holds nothing but weight-forward spinners like Erie Dearies. Another small box is nothing special except it contains lures purchased when I was 15-17 years old from the Wanigas Fly Shop near Saginaw, Michigan. The shop was owned by Art Neumann, a co-founder of Trout Unlimited, and it holds a bunch of small trout-size spoons that are rarely seen these days except in a lure collection.

A body bait produced this big Georgian Bay, Canada walleye.

Then there are some collectible Heddon lures that I normally leave home, and other scarce Creek Chub Pikie minnows, etc. And did I mention two small boxes of ice fishing lures?

So, do I really need several more lures? Probably not, but once one or two new lures wink at me and catch my eye, I go into a feeding frenzy until I have them. Many times, after such a cabin-fever purchase, I try the lure once and take an active dislike to its action, color or lack of fishing-catching abilities.

Someone once told me that fishing lures catch more anglers than fish, and I suspect that is quite true. However, gazing upon tray after tray of various colors and sizes of lures makes me feel good.

So, why not, honey? All I need is two or three more $20 muskie lures. There are still a few Suick colors I don't have. You never know when one of these odd-ball color combinations will tempt a trophy muskie.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Calling practice in my basement

Is calling as important to a turkey hunter as some sportsmen would have us believe, or is calling just the frosting on a turkey hunters cake? If calling isn't, it should be.

It's one thing to choose a spot to ambush a gobbler when it walks by. It's still another to make the longbeard come looking for you, one or two slow steps at a time; its head up and looking, the roar of a return gobble, the sight of a snowball head moving slowly through the woods as it comes toward the call.

Turkey hunting is fun. Calling a gobbler to the bow or shotgun is just about as much fun as anyone can have. Is calling difficult and must we really be an expert caller to succeed?

Good questions. No, one doesn't have to be an expert, and calling is not extremely difficult. A diaphragm call is far more difficult to learn than an aluminum, crystal, glass or slate friction call. The wood box call is perfect because it is one of the easiest calls to master, and the easiest to use is the push-button call that produces realistic sounds.

The most difficult turkey call of all to master is the wing-bone yelper. Anyone who can run a yelping sequence on a wing-bone yelper or trumper is a person who has my admiration. It is extremely difficult to master, which is why few people use them in the northern states.

Calling is the pure essence of turkey hunting, Shooting a bird is anticlimatic.

There is one important thing to remember: turkeys, like humans, have different voices. I've listened to world champion callers, and once spent a week deer hunting with Dick Kirby of Quaker Boy Calls. He was prepping for the World Championship  of turkey calling, and he could make truly realistic turkey sounds that were as clear and pure as the brittle tinkle of an icicle breaking.

"Championship calling is different than an in-the-field situation," Kirby said. "Hunters who can cluck, cutt, purr and yelp can call birds. Championship-type calling isn't required because no two turkeys sound alike. The key is more about the cadence and rhythm of a call than the quality of the sound. The biggest secret is knowing when to call, which call to make and not to call too much. A caller who calls much too often will scare more birds than he will attract."

Box calls - Hold the call lightly in the palm of the hand. Many callers hold a box call horizontally, and draw the paddle across the top of the box. Some hunters, especially in southern states, hold the box vertically and hold the striker between index and middle fingers to strike the lip of the box. Both methods work well, and what it boils down to is using whichever method feels the most comfortable.

A turkey show was on television recently when the host was using a box call in a horizontal position, and would then hold the call in a vertical fashion. He didn't look very comfortable with either method. Use whichever feels best, and there's no need to switch back and forth.

Make a cluck by popping the striker (handle) against the top of the box. It is a sharp one-note sound. To cutt, make a series of sharp clucks in rapid fashion. Yelps are made by moving the handle across the lip of the box and cover the sound chamber to accomplish the two-note call. Purring is simple and works best early in the morning when birds are roosted; move the striker lightly and slowly across the lip of the box.

Diaphragm - Kirby could make astounding sounds with a diaphragm call but mine sound like a gobbler with bad adenoids. However, my diaphragm calls are effective. Remember, notes need not be competition perfect. Just understand the cadence of each call, and know when to make that particular call.

To cluck exhale air across the reed(s) and say "putt." Cutt by making three or four fast clucks quickly and sharply. They can be made loud or softly, and much depends on how far away the bird is and how he responds to the call. A soft cutt often excites birds when they are within 50 yards. A yelp starts out high (and can be strung out) and falls off into a lower note. Yelps can be strung together quickly or done just once but jaw, mouth and tongue movement can affect volume and tone. Experiment until it sounds good. A purr is fairly difficult to do, but I find it easier than breaking off the high end of a yelp into the lower tone. My yelps sound like a gobbler with tonsillitis but birds come to it.

Aluminum, crystal, glass or slate calls are quite easy to use but require both hands. I favor these calls when a turkey is a good distance away, and as the bird comes closer, I switch to the diaphragm call so both hands are free to handle the shotgun.

A successful hunt doesn't always end with a gobbler. The calling is the most fun.

All three materials require the use of a peg or striker. Strikers are made of glass, plastic or wood. To cluck, hold the striker like a ballpoint pen but turn the tip at an angle pointing toward your body and drag it toward you in a skipping motion. Press down harder to make a louder cluck. Cutting is done by making a series or fast and irregular clucks for five to seven seconds. Cutts can be soft or loud, and long or short in duration. Yelping is done by dragging the striker with some pressure in a circular motion or a straight line. The more pressure of striker against the call, the louder the sound. Purr by lightly dragging the striker across the call. This is one of my favorite calls early in the morning because it sounds like a contented bird.

A recording of these sounds make more sense for a beginner than me trying to put down what each sound is like. Hunters also can talk to an accomplished caller and learn these basic sounds.

Some gobblers are, by nature, downright call-shy. Gobblers often will call from the roost, and four or five Toms gobbling back and forth sends chills down my spine. As a general rule, don't call as often as a gobbler; let him wonder where the hen is and come looking for it. I often give one or two soft tree yelps after I hear the first crow calling at dawn. If there is no response, try again five minutes later. If a gobbler responds, sit still and say nothing. Wait for the gobbler to call again, and then softly cluck and purr for five seconds and shut up.

The gobbler will probably boom back a return call but let him wait again. As he gobbles, birds in other areas may respond with a gobble so wait for a few minutes after silence is restored. Try another soft purr, and if it is full light, slap a turkey wing against a tree or your pant legs to imitate a bird flying down, and give one short and soft yelp to sound like a hen on the ground.

A few other tricks that can work.

Muffle some calls like a hen moving around on the ground, and listen for the gobbler to fly down. Give him another yelp, and if he gobbles, let him come. If the bird stops 50 yards away, purr or softly cluck and scratch in the leaves with your fingers like a hen feeding. If the bird keeps coming, stay quiet and let him come. If the gobbler stops behind a tree within range, purr or cluck softly and shoot when he steps out and lifts his head.

If a gobbler hangs up, try a trick that has worked for me many times. Use two calls at once: yelp softly with a diaphragm call and with a box or slate call to imitate two hens calling for the big boy. This trick has produced a number of gobblers for me and my friends. Or, try creeping backwards and turn and call softly to imitate a hen moving away.

Try to set up so the bird can come into a semi-open area to look for the hen. Gobblers will move through thick cover if necessary but they like to see what lays ahead and if it appears dangerous. Calling isn't particularly difficult but it requires some practice. Do it in the car, not out in the field. The first time you call outdoors is when you have a shotgun in hand and a turkey roaring back in response to a yelp.

The above is just some of the basics of calling a wild turkey within range, and it represents some of the tricks that work. Give 'em a try, and work at learning something new every day. Studying turkey behavior and their calls will pay off with more enjoyment in the turkey woods.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Spring has sprung and some gobblers are calling

A new metal roof was installed on our roof a few years ago. I was outside yesterday before last night's heavy rain, looking up at what little snow that remained, and watched the last of it come down.

Mind you, I understand fishing and hunting, but the mechanics of metal roofs isn't in my bag of tricks. I was standing there, looking up,  and heard a hen turkey nearby cut loose. She sounded as if she was scolding a gobbler that may have been pestering her.

There was a soft rumble, and about 10 pounds of snow landed out in front of my somewhat foolish head. Thankfully, the snow was loose and not loaded with ice as it was several days ago.

There is, I suspect, a short period of education about metal roofs as the thought dawned me. I'm not the sharpest knife in our drawer, and after scraping snow off my head a few times, pulling out my shirt-tail and shaking out the snow that snaked down my back, a light went off telling me that standing under the edge of the roof could be adangerous piece of business to my longtime health.

A flock of hens are kept in line by two gobblers.

I walked away from the roof, stood out of harm's way, and listened as a gobbler 100 yards away and out of sight, gobbled at the hen. It appeared on this bright, warm and sunny day, that he was trying his best to pull together a harem of hens.

It's probably still a bit too early for him to get very excited about breeding hens, but for me, spring fever has set in. I'm eager to go back outside after this is written, and soak up some of the warmth that has been missing from my life since early last fall.

It's about 50 degrees, and one must stretch their imagination a bit to say that 50 degrees is warm, but all things are relative. Fifty degrees is warm when compared to the teens and the 20s of a week ago.

It's a day for doing very little except trying to get accustomed to a bit of warmth in the air. I still had to shovel off the front deck to clean things up, but that is fine by me.

It is a trade-off. Warm weather makes snow slide off my roof. In places, it misses the deck and falls over the railing. In other places it lands with a dull thud on the deck, shakes the house, and just lays there making a mess of things. In open spot, there is a deck railing that was destroyed two weeks ago by falling ice and snow.

I could do, as I once did, and figure if the Good Lord wanted snow there, He put it there and could make it go away. It seems the going-away part gets lost in the translation of my thoughts, and it also means that it's time to go to work.

I'm no longer fond of snow.

Shoveling snow isn't one of my favorite winter chores, but it is a necessary evil. Last summer I reached the age of 70, and with the vision loss in one eye, meant crawling up on the roof to clean it off three or four times a year was foolhardy and stupid. I agreed with that.

My balance is bad on slanted surfaces, and even worse when those surfaces are snow and/or ice-covered. My depth perception is off a twitch or two, and my family could see me sliding off the roof. Even worse than falling to the deck would be to fall and spread-eagle myself on the deck railing. It would probably ruin not only a day but many days, and it seems an unnecessary risk I wouldn't take.

So ... the metal roof was installed. All I need to do now is get a hard hat to wear, start paying more attention when the roof snow starts to melt, and pay more attention to my roof than listening for turkeys gobbling.

Listening to gobbler music is more fun than almost anything.

Oops, there was another gobble. I must be learning, because I'd moved away from the edge of the roof in time to escape the last  little bit of wet snow.

I stood, listening to him rattle the woods and kept trying to spot him through the trees. I haven't seen a hen or gobbler today, but I'm about to start looking for birds.

Maybe a couple of birds will come to stand back in the woods and watch the foolish human as he listens to them. Those birds are smarter than me. They walk around, eat and I've yet to see one with a show shovel.

Whoever said turkeys are dumb have no clue. I know better.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Playing A Hunch

Fishing guides are smart. If they stumble in the brains department, they often are out of business within a year.

Guides know when to make decisions. and then proceed with an action plan. That plan may not always produce the desired results, but I'd rather have a guide who is willing to make a sound decision based on his experience than fence-straddle all day while nothing happens.

Arnie Minka of Grawn and I had booked a steelhead trip with Mark Rinckey of Honor (231-325-6901) a few years ago. Fishing had been extremely slow, but it's been too nice of a day to reschedule a trip. We were committed to it even though we knew steelhead fishing had been unremarkably dismal for two weeks.

"We are going to try something new," Rinckey told us when we met in Honor at 5:30 a.m. "The water level flowing over the rivermouth where the Betsie River flows into Betsie Bay has been so shallow that few steelhead are moving upstream. We're going after them in Betsie Bay."

Rinckey has been guiding river salmon and steelhead fishermen since 1977 when I first started fishing with him. He's come up with some strange ideas in the past, but they often pay off. Minka and I would go along with this venture with great anticipation.

A hunch paid off with this steelhead for Arnie Minka (left) and Rinckey.

We got to a spot that borders the Elberta side of Betsie Bay, walked to the water, and stuck short sandspikes at the water's edge to hold the rods. Rinckey began rigging lines with a quarter-ounce pyramid sinker, a four-foot leader of four-pound test, and a No. 8 hook. Spawnbags would be used for bait.

The first bait hit the water, and Rinckey was rigging the second rod, when a steelhead rattled the rod. I grabbed it, set the hook, and held on as a fish powered off on a 20-yard run. Five minutes later an 8-pound steelhead was skidded up to shore.

Rods No. 1 and 2 was baited, and Rinckey was working on Rod No. 3, when the second rod dipped toward the surface, and Minka grabbed it and held on as another fish powered off on a short but determined run. That fish was soon landed, the line was baited again, and we soon had five lines in the water before the sun rose above an eastern hill.

Guides often have hunches and they often produce fast action.

"This is the first time I've fished this spot," Rinckey told us during a lull in the action. "It made sense to me because the fish often follow the dropoff as they move upstream, but I think these fish are stranded here because of the extremely low water just below the M-22 bridge. Very few fish are making it upstream through that skinny water.

Another strike, and this was a 10-pound male for Arnie. I hooked an 8-pound silver female, fought her and she was soon released. The strikes weren't coming too fast, but every 10 to 15 minutes, we'd have a bump or a hook-up and it kept our attention level high.

Boats were trolling the harbor but the action was slow for them. For us, we seemed to be in the right place at the right time. And frankly, folks, that is why people hire fishing guides to show us how and where to fish.

The fishing often slows about 8 a.m., but not today. A bright, sunny day, and the only thing that changed was the fish went slightly deeper. We'd make longer casts, allow the sinker and line to sink to bottom, tighten up the line, stick the rod in a sandspike, adjust the drag and wait for a nodding rod tip to signal another biting fish.

Rinckey with a nice spring fish.

Other steelhead were caught, and then Arnie landed a seven-pound brown trout. The fish fought hard, stayed deep, and was a lovely specimen. It was quickly unhooked, held aloft for a photograph, and quickly released.

"Hunches do pay off," Rinckey said. "I've had a few that didn't work, but often a hunch is based on fishing knowledge, an analysis of existing river conditions, and a small portion of good luck. I thought about this spot last night when I was trying to fall asleep, and it proved to be a genuine hotspot."

He said that tomorrow's fishing at the same location may not produce a fish. If so, then a good guide refers his clients to Plan B.

Rinckey doesn't need a Plan B very often. He knows spring steelhead, and is adept at helping clients catch them. A 10-fish catch and the release of six fish over a half-day of fishing should be good enough for anyone. It was certainly good enough for us.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Steelhead fishing from another era

It was April 1, 1968, and my second year of guiding fly fishermen to brown trout, salmon and steelhead fishermen. My twin brother, George, and I was scouting the Little Manistee River between 6 Mile and 9 Mile bridges, for clients who would arrive to fish the next twp days.

The river was rain-swollen and murky, and in another hour of heavy rain, it would be a foot higher and the color of chocolate milk. I thought a big buck steelie was on a shallow gravel bar an easy cast from shore, and George shinnied up a shoreline tree and stood on a big branch to check things out.

"That fish is huge," George muttered to me. "It's bigger than any steelhead I've ever seen, and his cheeks and gill covers are a bright orangish-red color. This is an awesome fish.

"You know about where he is. Cast a copper spinner upstream and reel hard when I tell you."

The author admires a Betsie River steelhead.

I cast, and George said to cast another six feet farther upstream in hopes of getting the spinner down in the heavy current. My next cast, he said, was on target.

"That's the spot," he said. "Keep casting to it. Reel hard now!"

I reeled, and nothing happened. Cast after cast went into the right spot, and I'd reel fast enough to make the spinner blade turn over in the current, and after 40 or 50 casts, George yelled "Hit him!"

The hooks were slammed home as I felt the strike, and nothing happened, so I pounded the rod tip back to set the hooks again. The huge steelhead rolled to the surface, his cheeks and gill covers glowing like evening campfire embers, and the fish started swimming upstream, his dorsal fin creasing the surface like a shark. He didn't move fast but seem possessed with tremendous power.

I moved along the bank but stayed downstream from the fish. The trick was to make the giant steelhead fight the rod pressure and the river current. We duked it out in the soggy rain for 10 minutes before the fish swapped ends and headed downstream into a deep hole. I was reeling while running but still the fish tangled the line in underwater brush and quickly broke me off.

"How big," I asked George. He'd caught steelhead to almost 20 pounds, and he guessed this ponderous male was at least 25 pound, perhaps more.

Big steelhead were more common back then and there were fewer anglers.

Wow, you say. That's what I said, and of the thousands of steelhead I've caught before and since, it remains the largest one I've hooked or seen.

My point with this anecdote is that incident occurred back in the days of very few steelhead fishermen and lots of big fish. The Little Manistee River at that time had a huge run of spawning steelhead that averaged, according to the DNR, between 11 and 12 pounds. A 15-pounder wasn't anything special, and it took a 17- or 18-pounder to raise any eyebrows.

That same year, also on the Little Manistee River, I found a 30-yard stretch of gravel that was wall-to-wall fish. The river bottom was honeycombed with spawning redds, and 15 or 20 feet away would be another redd, and every one held a female and one to four males. We fished only for the male fish because a hooked hen would take all the boys with her.

On that day I set a record of sorts. I hooked 30 steelhead in eight hours, and am proud to announce that I made a professional release on every fish. If you're unfamiliar with the term, a professional release means I lost every fish, one way or another.

There were far more steelhead in those days than now. There are far more fishermen today than back then. It's easy to do the basic math; fewer fish are being caught by more fishermen.

Brother George casts a fly to a steelhead.

There are still some rather exciting days if anglers can find a spot where fishing pressure is minimal. Two years ago me and another man hooked 30 steelhead in a morning. We landed about half of them, and released each and every one. Those days seldom occur these days.

Low Lake Michigan water levels in the past haven't helped. The Betsie River mouth has been so low in recent years that very few fish made it upstream. Rivers like the Manistee below Tippy Dam can be good at times, but the fishing pressure is just too heavy to suit me. I can take two or three hours of fishing in a crowd, and then get turned off by the whole thing.

That doesn't mean that you should, but it's easy for me to remember way back when to those special days where a steelhead fisherman would consider himself unlucky to see two other anglers all day. And, back in the day, people didn't crowd you or wade down through a spawning bed.

They had some class and good manners. The fish were larger and more plentiful back then, and the rivers weren't swarming with anglers. It was a different era, and the steelhead fishing now remains fairly good, but remembering what it was like 40-45 years ago is enough to make a grown man cry.

Personally, it's my thought that we'll probably never see the likes of those days again but remembering them is still a thrill for an old goat like me.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Testing river waters for steelhead

Steelhead fishing has been my addictive passion for more than 55 years. Give me four or five days of snow-melt temperatures, and a forecast of two or more days of rain, and there's only one thought that goes through my head at this time of year.

It's time to think strongly about hitting the river. One might ask where. Pick any stream, but those larger rivers with a dam and a constant stream flow, may be the best of all. Some good bets this week and over the weekend could be on rivers such as the AuSable, Betsie, Boardman, Manistee, Muskegon and St. Joseph. Many anglers concentrate their efforts in those river stretches just below the dam.

Why? Easy answer. Any steelhead that entered the rivers last fall or earlier this winter have been in the river for varying lengths of time. A run-off caused by melting snow and rain will move downstream, and fish that are holding out in the lake waiting for the water to warm. A temperature rise of only a few degrees will send fish migrating upstream before their spring spawn.

My strategy would be to fish close to the dam. That's where many of the fish will eventually be, and it can be a wise decision. Or start at the dam and begin fishing the holes and runs and an angler works downstream. There is still a good bit of snow in the woods, which can make gaining access to good spots more difficult. It's also a good reason to start fishing near the day because the  angler traffic has made it a bit easier to get around.

Learn to see spawning male steelhead.

Make no mistake about it. The river water is still cold, and fish can be lethargic and slow to move to bait, fliesm plugs or spinners. The trick is to cove every inch of holding water from as many possible position as wading conditions will allow. Anglers must be aware of the possibility of shelf ice extending out from shore, and use caution when wading. Any appreciable run-off can raise the water level, and each spring holes and runs change as sand or other timber debris moves downstream. I've seen holes change completely during a heavy spring run-off.

One key piece of fishing advice is to fish deep, and allow bait, flies or lures to bounce downstream with the current. Make several casts from one location, and then move downstream a few steps and go through the same routine again. Work the holding water thoroughly, and if you aren't getting hung up on bottom debris occasionally, you are not fishing properly. Your offering must be bouncing downstream along the bottom, and at the same speed as the current.

When it comes to bait, spawnbags are the eternal favorite of most anglers. However, keep this in mind: when the water is extremely cold (33-35 degrees) was worms or wigglers occasionally out-produce the tradition spawnbag. Two major fishing methods work for bait, and can be equally successful.

Many fishermen prefer rolling the bait along bottom. Cast across the river and allow the bait to sink to bottom. Splitshot is preferred, and use just enough weight to allow it to bounce downstream. Use too much weight about a foot above the baited hook, and the bait remains in one place. Keep adjusting the weight until you achieve the proper drift. Too little weight will mean a faster drift but the bait will up off bottom, and drifting over the fish's head. Spring steelhead rarely move up in the water column to take bait.

Bobber fishing or rolling spawnbags along bottom?

The second way to effectively fish bait is to estimate the depth of the water being fished, and attach a bobber (float) above the baited hook. Use just enough weight about 10-12 inches above the hook so it causes the bobber to stand upright in the water. Cast as outlined above, and watch the bobber as it drifts downstream. If you are unfamiliar with the river, keep adjusting the bottom. If the bobber lays on its side and doesn't move, slide the bobber down toward  the hook. It can take several adjustments to make the drift carry the bait along and just off bottom.

Years ago, many of us use small leadhead jigs and we'd bait them with a wax worm or wiggler. We used small jigs weighing  1/16 or even 1/32-ounce, and the brightly colored jigs, when combined with bait, seemed to make your offering more appealing to fish.The key to success, with or without a tiny jig, is to use just enough weight to make the bobber stand upright in the water. Watch the bobber at all times, and if it goes down just a little bit, it could have picked up a leaf or twig or a fish could be mouthing the bait. The best indication of a strike is the swift disappearance as the bobber is sucked under the surface. Lift the rod tip with a bit of force, and set the hook.

Late winter streams often feature very clear water. Long 10-12-foot rods work well, and my favorite is four-pound monofilament. If the river rises suddenly with heavy run-off, bait anglers should consider using six or even eight-pound line. Sometimes a fish will clean you (take all the line on your spool), and just keep going. Again, trial, error and experience can be the best teacher on how heavy line can be used. Bait fishing is finesse fishing, and more fish are hooked on light line than heavy line.

Catching fresh-run steelhead on a fly is fun!

Heavier line can be used when fishing with plugs or spinners. Most spring steelhead strikes when using hardware are sure and hard. There's no mistaking a strike, and some fish slam the lure so hard that it can produce a sore wrist. The key thing when pitching plugs, spinners or spoons, is to stay alert. Even though the strike can be a wrist wrenching affair, if you are daydreaming and don't set the hook promptly, the fish can get away.

Great lures for this type of fishing would include plugs like the FlatFish, Tadpolly or Hotshot. I favor the Mepps Aglia spinner for smaller waters if I'm going to use this type of gear, and a No. 2, 3 or 4 Mepps Aglia spinner (without the bucktail) is a favorite.

Back me into a corner, and demand to know my favorite steelhead fishing method, and I'd readily say fly fishing. There's something magical about catch a mint-silver hen or a red-cheeked buck steelie on a fly. Sight fishing works well for those anglers who have enough brains to stay out of the water until the spot a fish. The best action takes place during the spawning period, and when fly fishing to bedded fish, re,e,ber that it's most important to fish for only the male fish. Often a soon-to-spawn steelhead may have three, four or five males line up behind her, and the pecking order places the biggest and most aggressive male closest to the hen.

Fly-fishing for steelhead is the best fun of all.

Watch the fish long enough to spot the silvery hen rolling up on her side. The male moves in close, and together the release a cloud of eggs and milt. The males usually are darker than the female, and they move around more as they chase other smaller fish away. Pick a fish, and fish directly to it. I spent 10 years guiding steelhead fishermen from 1967 through 1976, and pioneered fly fishing on Michigan's tributary streams for browns, salmon and steelhead. Many of the methods my twin brother George and I devised are still in use today.

One steelhead caught on a fly is just about as much fun as a person can have while wearing waders. Watch the weather, and fish at every opportunity. This warm-up has come early, and I've seen years when the run has ended by April 1. The only way to avoid disappoint is to fish as often as possible. Follow some of these tips, and this may be the year you'll hit the run just right. Good luck!

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Learn how to sit still

Anyone who has bow hunted more than once knows the importance of sitting quiet and still. Knowing that, and practicing it while hunting, are two entirely different things.

I seldom hunt with another person, but in the past when my kids and grandkids were young, they would go out with me. Most adults can't sit still, and even fewer children can do so.

One of my grandchildren was fidgeting when I whispered to him to sit still. He whispered back that he was sitting still.

Your idea and my idea of being motionless and quiet may not jibe. It's taken years to master the art of silent sitting. I've taken more black bears than I have fingers and toes, and have learned some of the tricks to sitting as still as a stone for long periods of time. Doing so can lead to success.

"The first bear I shot," another savvy hunter said, "was on Sept. 10, opening day of the Upper Peninsula bear season. This was well over 30 years ago, and tree stand hunting wasn't legal. I sat alongside but downwind of an active bear trail with my back against a big cedar root-wad on a warm day.

This black bear was only 10 yards away when I took this photo. He never knew I  was nearby.

"Sometime later, I awoke from dozing and cracked one eye to see a black bear walking past at eight feet. The animal walked past, and a smooth draw and an clean bow shot took that bruin behind the front shoulder. It ran only 25 yards and dropped."

The bear didn't go far, and the hunter said he was absolutely motionless when the bear walked by because he was asleep. He admits that was an accident, but he's since learned to sit without movement or sound.

Over many years of hunting bears and deer, I've found one trick to being still is to be comfortable, and a hunter must learn how to relax and be at ease with himself and his surroundings if he hopes to be motionless and quiet. The first step is to remove anything that can cause discomfort while sitting. My primary problem is it's necessary to remove my wallet from my back pocket. If it is left in, my sitting time is 30 minutes or less before my hip hurts. No one can sit still if their butt is painfully sore.

Sit on the ground, and a root an inch under the dirt will put a crease in one butt cheek, and you'll start moving to get comfortable. I make certain if I'm in a tree stand that no branch stub is digging into my ribs or spine. A stone in the dirt under you butt will feel like a boulder after 30 minutes.

One big secret to sitting still is to be comfortable.

Check out each spot wherever you hunt. Remove offending branches or broken branch stubs. Many tree stands have uncomfortable seats because the seat is too low, and your knees are up under your chin and that makes for an uncomfortable seat. Just as bad or worse is a seat that is too high, and you have to sit on the edge of the seat to keep your feet steady on the platform. This cuts off blood flow to your legs, and your toes and feet go to sleep, which leads to more movement.

Learn to get physically comfortable first, and then learn to relax your body and mind. A man told me once that he meditates while in a stand, and although his eyes may be closed and his heartbeat and respiration slows down, he can hear the rustle of bear hair against bracken ferns or the faint twig snap of a wandering buck. One day, while following his example, I sat still all day within 20 feet of a bear bait, and nine different bears came to visit but none knew I was there.

This isn't recommended for someone unaccustomed to meditation. What works for most of us is to free our brain of all thought, to feel comfortable and relaxed, and to will yourself to be motionless. I've had bucks approach to within several feet of me without seeing any movement, and that is part of the secret. Keep your mind uncluttered by unnecessary details, and it's much easier to remain still.

One trick of mine is to fix my attention on a distant object, and stare at it. It will blur, come back into focus, and blur again. Stick with it, and don't think of deer or work or anything else, and try to become one with your surroundings. Get comfortable and relaxed, and don't feel like an intruder. Relax and become one with nature.

That works for me and some other people I know, but it may not work for you without a great deal of concentrated practice. The first and foremost thing is to be comfortable. Once the human body is comfortable, start working on the mind.

Sitting motionless and quiet is nothing but mind over matter. Start practicing now and you'll be ready for a nice spring gobbler or a buck this fall.

Soon, with continuous practice, it will be possible to sit motionless for 30 minutes. Then start working on being motionless for an hour. If you can get up to two or three hours, many of your hunting problems will be solved.

Learn to expect sudden noises, such as a red squirrel chattering or running through the leaves. Don't be started when a bear or deer steps through dry leaves. Be alert but motionless and still. Sooner or later whatever made the noise will step into view. Never turn to look behind you.

The old Negro League and big league pitcher, Satchell Paige, had it right when he once said: "Never look back. Something may be gaining on you." That thought should be considered by hunters.

If you are not moving, you won't be making noise (unless you snore). Without movement or noise, the only thing you must worry about is being winded. Stay downwind of where bear or deer travel, and you will have removed most of the key things that spook animals.

Turkey season opens in a bit more than a month, and movement or any sound (except a turkey call) will spook birds. Their vision is like you or me looking through 10-power binoculars. I wear a camo mask that covers  my face, ears and glasses, and wear brown glove on my hands. The trick to shooting a gobble-bird is to be ready for a shot when he steps within range. If you sit with the shotgun across your lap, and try to raise and aim at a bird, all you'll probably see will be tailfeathers rapidly getting further away.

Practice now, long before turkey or bow season opens, to sit still and motionless in a non-hunting environment. If you can pull that off for two hours, and you follow the other common-sense hunting rules, there won't be a bear, deer or gobbler that will be safe around you.

Sitting still and not moving any part of your body except your eyes is simply a case of mind over matter. Humans do have a brain, and once they condition it to silent inactivity, their hunting skills will increase.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Calling gobblers can be easier than you think

It was a simple question. A man asked a few days ago if i was a great turkey caller.

The answer was a resounding "no." Great callers are guys such as Greg Abbas, Chris Boesel, Paul Butski, Bob Garner, David Hale, Rob Keck, Dick Kerby, Harold Knight, Arnie Minka, Will Primos, Carl Salling, and a host of others. I'm not a great turkey caller, and must fight hard to make even a passable yelp on my diaphragm call.

However, after many successful years of turkey calling and hunting, I am OK. I can call most birds I encounter. I considered the question put to my by the young man, and it's obvious he's looking for some help. I can't help him much by telling him how to blow a better yelp with a mouth call.

I didn't have much time to talk with him that day but will see him again this week. In the meantime, I can teach him a few tricks about calling and hunting turkeys.

There are two basic things to remember about turkey calling: Don't call too often and don't call too loud. Let's take a look at these aspects of calling.

Gobblers like those fanned out are to call when with hens.

Someone who toodles too often on a turkey call usually winds up spooking birds. They tend to call too often and too loud, and occasionally at the wrong time, thereby spooking gobblers that may be coming to the call. They also may blow a "clinker," a sound that is not natural to a turkey's limited vocabulary. That can send a bird scurrying into the next county ... but not always.

Hunters are wise to limit their calling in most cases. As a general rule, let a gobbler do most of the talking. Call just enough to keep him interested. A bird that calls but keeps getting farther and farther away, is not going to come at that time. After the gobblers and hens separate about 10-11 a.m., the talkative gobbler may return to where he heard a hen call. Patience is one of the best friends a hunter has. Sitting still for three or four hours can be a painful exercise but gobblers often return to where they heard an early-morning hen.

My young friend is trying to learn how to run a diaphragm call, perhaps the second-most difficult call to learn. The hardest call to run is a wingbone yelper. I've met a few guys that could play Dixie on a wingbone call but those that can make great turkey music are few and far between.

The easiest call to operate is the push-pull call. Push on a plunger, and it moves the lid over a wedge-shaped piece of wood, and it produces a realistic turkey call providing it isn't used too much. The next two calls -- a box call and an aluminum, glass or slate call -- are far easier to work. Done properly, they can produce great sounds that imitate an amorous hen turkey.

Learn to use all forms of turkey calls (right).

Everything, within reason, about using a turkey call, is a matter of cadence. There is a certain flow or rhythm to turkey calls, and those calls are difficult to make with a diaphragm call  without a great deal of experience and practice, and knowing what each call is supposed to sound like. Go out as soon as the snow melts, take along a foam cushion to sit on, leave your calls home, and just listen to wild birds calling. Go home, or out in your car with the windows up so you don't drive your wife nuts, and practice. A few people pick up on the sounds they should make quickly, but for most people, it may take two or three years of constant  practice before they can run a good yelp.

The box and slate calls are far easier to use. Box calls can be held horizontally, as I prefer, or vertically as many southern hunters prefer. It makes no difference how you hold the call. What is important is how you bring the handle or lid of the call across the top of the sound chamber. Play with this a little bit to get a good feel for it.

Some years ago, and a few months before my twin brother died in 2003, I was guiding a man and my brother wanted to hunt as well. I didn't want to take out two people at once so in the predawn darkness, I helped George set up a jake and hen decoy in front  of one of my hunting blinds. I gave him a one-minute course on making a yelp. I bid him good luck, and the other guy and I went off to where we were going to hunt. I worked a big gobbler for an hour that morning but the bird wouldn't complete the circle and come out in front of us.

We eventually gave up on that bird when he finally walked off after spitting and drumming for 20 minutes behind us. There was something a bit off about my set-up, and I knew  I could take that bird on another day. We drove to where George was hunting, and there were two gobblers in front of him. I shut down the car without spooking the birds, and watched through binocuars as he shot the largest gobbler. He was geeked to think he'd called in not one but two gobblers on his first hunt.

George shot that bird, and both men wanted breakfast so we headed for town to eat. My brother headed home with his prize, but I managed to snag back my prized call that I'd let him use. The man I was guiding shot his gobbler about an hour later.

Four different box calls that I use (left).

One thing I didn't tell the man who had questioned me about turkey calling was that on any given day a gobbler will respond to only one call. A hunter may start out with what normally works, and the birds pay no attention to it. Learning just one technique or calling can be rather limiting. When next I see him, I'll try to coax him into learning three methods: box call, slate call and diaphragm call, and in that order.

The box call user can become reasonably proficient in an hour or two. The yelp should be the one call used most often, and for many hunters  it's the one that draws in the most gobblers. A whine or purr is easy on a box and slate call but difficult on a diaphragm call. He told me he is trying to perfect his fly-down cackle call, and I asked why. Soften up and shorten up on a yelp, and you've got a close approximation to that call. The trick is to learn the yelp, and how to make a soft and semi-loud call.

Timing is important, and I prefer to put gobblers to bed at sundown. That way I  know about where they will be in the morning, and can sneak in fairly close (100-125 yards) of the roost tree. Know your terrain, and don't try to call birds across water. It can be done, and I've done it a couple of times, but birds often hang up at water. Call to birds you know are on your side of the waterway.

Gobblers often sound off from the trees about the same time as the little tweety birds and larger crows begin mouthing off. Let the gobbler call two or three times in an attempt to determine where all the nearby hens are. Then give a soft three-to-five-note yelp, and hush up. The bird will usually pause and then answer, as will other gobblers in the area, and after he calls a couple of time, give the same soft call again. Keep it soft. Turkeys have amazing hearing and eye sight.
Some old turkey calls from 35 years ago (right).
Once the gobbler starts coming, call only if the bird seems to have stopped or lost his direction. This is not the time to over-call or call too loud. If you have decoys out, keep the jake or gobbler decoy closest to you, because gobblers usually head for the jake to kick his tail feathers although sometimes they single out the hen to jump on.

Have your shotgun up and across your knees with butt of the shotgun stock against your shoulder. The bird may try to circle or may head right for the decoys. Wait until his head comes up to look around, and shoot once, shoot straight and don't miss. Don't shoot at birds over 40 yards away/ Sure, with today's high powered shotguns, it's possible to kill the occasional bird at 60 yards but there too much margin for error.

Calling turkeys is easy, and since no two turkeys sound alike, the notes of your call may be off just a bit. Get the cadence right, stay hid with good camouflage, and don't move. The gobblers often come running, and this, my friends, is what turkey hunting is all about.

It's not just about shooting a big longbeard. It is about calling that heavily bearded limb-walker to the gun. That is what endears wild gobblers to those camo-clad hunters who get up long before dawn to hunt them. It's really all about calling the bird, and the excitement is breathtaking as a bird moves closer. It's what causes sane men and women to forsake a warm bed in favor of sitting with their back against a big tree. Hardly anything in hunting can beat calling a big bird within shotgun range.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Beginner turkey hunter lessons

I spent some time today outside listening to turkey talk as the snow quickly melted off the roof in near 50-degree temperatures. It was an immensely beautiful day to listen to the birds.

It's always been my personal philosophy to teach kids to hunt. My oldest grand-daughter, at the wise old age of 19 years, was asking me about turkey hunting. I took her out several times for whitetails with a bow, and although she didn't shoot a deer, there were opportunities.

"Are you interested in turkey hunting," I asked. She allowed as how she might be, and I allowed as how I might be talked into calling up a gobbler for her. That is, if she wanted me to.

Determining whether to hunt turkeys or not can be an issue.

That's when the questions started. And that's what I love about teaching children that really want to learn.

"Are you ready to shoot a gobbler if we go hunting," I asked. "We'd be sitting on the ground, and the bird would probably be within 25 yards. The heart-pounding action comes as the bird gets close enough to walk in front of the shotgun. Do you want to kill a gobbler? Hens are off-limits during the spring hunt."

"You've always told me that there is more to hunting than killing," she replied, nailing me to the spot.

"That's true," I said, "but calling a bird in close enough for a shot can spook the bird if they spot any movement. A spooked bird may not come to me again or to another hunter. You don't have to shoot if you don't want to, but turkey hunting is altogether different than bow hunting for whitetail deer."

"I'd like to shoot a gobbler," Jessica answered several years ago, "but I don't know whether I can or not. It's the moment of truth when I must choose to shoot or not shoot that I can't answer right now."

This was as good an answer as any she could give. I wouldn't want someone to shoot a big gobbler if they had problems with doing so. I also don't want to put enormous pressure on her, nor do I want her to think that I'll be upset if she doesn't shoot or if she missed a bird.

Seeing a big gobbler like this can give many hunters the shakes.

"Look," I said, "you have nothing to prove to me other than your willingness to go hunting. A turkey gobbler may show up, four or five might show up, and I just want you to be prepared for what can happen during a turkey hunt."

She faced her moment of truth with a big doe at 10 yards, and she was at full draw, and she later told me she wasn't ready yet to release the arrow. She is a good shot, but I'd rather see her wait until she was fully confident of her abilities, before she shoots an arrow.

The same principle applies while turkey hunting. Where we bow hunted from an elevated and ground stand, we'll be sitting outside on the ground with our backs to a tree, and willing that gobbler to come our way.

Sitting inside elevated or ground coop for deer is one thing. Sitting out, on the ground, and calling to a bird and watching him come -- quickly or slowly -- is a bit of heart-pounding excitement. The heartbeat races, the mouth gets dry, and the breath is sucking in and blowing out as hunters hyperventilate, and it's never easy to sit without moving while a gobbler closes the gap.

"Do you think I can shoot a gobbler," she asked. "Will I have to shoot a lot to get ready? How would I have to dress? Do you have a shotgun that I could use? Would you call for me?"

Beginning hunters can spend the next weeks studying turkeys traveling on the snow.

Of course I would call for her. I'd have a shotgun for her to use, and she could wear the same camo outfit she wore last fall while deer hunting.

"I'd love to take you turkey hunting," I said. "You'd have to shoot a shotgun enough to get accustomed to the recoil. The big secret to killing a gobbler is to wait for the gobbler to walk in front of your shotgun, and keep your head down on the stock while aiming and firing, and you can't move.

"A knee jerk, any twinge or twitch, stiff muscles, sore butt, all of it has to be ignored when a bird is coming. They have eyes like an eagle, and hear very well. Any movement at all will spook the bird."

She is eager but somewhat apprehensive. Trying to allay her fears of making a mistake wasn't easy, but it's my opinion that she has what it takes to shoot a gobbler once she sees a bird or two close enough to shoot. No one is a natural-born turkey hunter.

First-time turkey hunters must experience a gobbler at close range to know how they will react.

We all come to turkey hunting the first time without prior experience. That's where an older person can exert some influence, calm the hunter down, and be there for congratulations when they do everything right. Or to offer heartfelt condolences when it doesn't work.

After all, as Jessica reminded me, hunting isn't all about killing. It can mean simply watching the bird, but one must be prepared with bow or shotgun in hand, in order to properly hunt. One could hunt every day of the season without shooting a bird, but in the end, it must mean releasing an arrow or shooting a load of No. 4, 5 or 6 shot at the bird.

There comes, for every person who hunts, the Moment of Truth when people are suddenly faced with the prospect of shooting at the bird. Many can do it but there are some that can't, and it's best to learn early in a hunting career whether one can do it or not. There's no shame in not being able to shoot a deer or turkey, but from a personal standpoint, it's a point in a hunter's life that must be addressed.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors