Hard to hunt spots

Old orchards like this hold bucks 

The hunter who pays attention to deer movements will soon find some out-of-the-way spots where big bucks like to lay up. Some of those locations are easily hunted and some are not.

Some of these out-of-the-way spots are found while hunting other game species. Some of the little hidey-holes where bucks hole 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 whitetail buck.

Some of my friends hunt in widely scattered locations. Many also hunt upland game birds, cottontail rabbits and snowshoe hares, wild turkeys and other game. The observant ones find hard-to-hunt buck hideaways far more often than people who hunt only on place.

Always take note where a big buck is seen and where he goes

A friend pays attention to such things, and as he walked past an overgrown apple orchard after a hard rain, 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 gent, 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.

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

Larry Barrett with buck shot in cattails 

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 sparse to hold a deer.

A friend tells the story of hunting ringneck pheasants near a river, many years ago. He was hunting along its edge. A rooster flushed wild at 30 yards ahead of the dog, and he swung and winged the bird.

A winged pheasant led me to a big buck one day

It 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. He checked the water depth, and it was only shin deep, and he crossed. His dog caught some scent, pointed, and as he 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.

He kept that oddball sighting in mind, and once the firearm deer season opened, he and a friend waded across to the island. One went to the upstream end while the other walked through, and sure enough, they 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.

The thing is that bow hunters can dare to be different. They don't have to follow a stated doctrine everyone 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 a friend 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.

Look for thick cover, it can’t be too thick for bucks

Don't stick with the status quo next fall when the bow season opens. Check things out. Know where the 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 you can put to good use this fall.

Try it this year. It may produce a nice buck that you've probably overlooked for years.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

I fish, hunt and enjoy watching birds

Pileated woodpecker on suet. Ringneck pheasant below.

Bird watching is something I do year ‘round. It’s been a longtime habit, and this is particularly so during the winter months when forage is tough to find under the snow and ice.

Each day, without fair, I measure the snow depth on my deck railing. So far, we are at about 110 inches of snow. We have two bird feeders out, and they are refilled every two days. I deliberately pay little attention to the cost. If I knew the cost was high, I’d stil do it because watching winter bird life keeps me tuned in with winter.

It also helps me give something back to the birds that provide me with so much enjoyment all year. Food plots were planted, and they feed deer and other animals and birds from the first green-up until the winter snow flies.

Winter birds add a bright spot to winters.

The birds feed every day at my place. There are sunflower seeds and thistle seed feeders. The woodpeckers get a big chunk of suet, and some of the other birds peck at it a bit.

Seventy-five yards behind my house is one of my food plots. There's not much to it now that deep snow has covered the ground although deer occasionally paw through the snow and nibble at the old clover and purple-top turnips. It becomes a major source of nutrition during the spring, summer and fall months.


It satisfies all the rules that pertain to winter feeding. I no longer can distribute carrots, corn and sugar beets over the once-prescribed 10 X 10-foot area, and each day when I went out, there would be deer tracks everywhere but adding some corn to the winter deer diet is now illegal. supposedly because of the Chronic Wasting Disease scare three years ago.

So far there is very little sign of wild turkeys near us, and I seldom see them until the winter weather turns harsh. Right now, our area seems to be inhabited by a few does and young fawns from last spring although it's possible a buck that has lost his antlers may be coming in, but in all honesty, since the no baiting, no-feeding law went into effect nearly three years ago, the deer have not been coming to my food plot with any regularity. It’s hard to compete with standing corn fields.

Mind you: before last night and today's snow and 15-degree temperatures, the snow has been too deep for easy deer travel. We seldom see deer once the snow gets knee-high to an adult human. The deer vacate such upland country and head for traditional low-lying deer yards where food usually isn’t any more plentiful.

In summer we have a bird bath and orange rinds nearby.

Frankly, I'm not 100 percent sure what comes to dine on the food plot behind the house. Deer are common in early and late winter, and so too are rabbit and squirrels. On a warm sunny day we occasionally see a 'possum or raccoon track in the melting snow.

Turkeys might really get hungry this winter. We get some ground-feeding birds, amd whenever I fill the feeders, I sprinkle some sunflower and thistle seed on the ground for those birds that seldom fly up to the feeders.

At times we’ve had some turkey roosting near the house, but they seldom do that any more. I think with the open food plots that the land is a bit too open for nightime roosting now.

I enjoy watching the birds all year, and the first several years we lived here, we tried to identify the differ birds that came to weed. Years agp, we had a pair of red-headed woodpecker but they eventually died out or moved on. We still have a passel of downy and hairy woodpeckers.

We see songbirds, game birds and even birds of prey.

The largest bird that visits our bird feeders (primarily the suet feeder) is an adult pileated woodpecker. We have both the male and female of that species, and see them almost every day. Flickers also visit, and they are a fairly large bird. We also get chickadees, goldfinches, grosbeaks, juncos, nuthatches, sparrows and a raft of the smaller downy and hairy woodpeckers. We quit counting the birds after we’d seen more than 100, but perhaps it’s time to start counting over again.

We feed to help give something back to the wildlife community. It can be a major expense, but I've found that it makes me feel good. And watching the birds as they feed is far more entertaining than watching television.

For more information, go to any book store or the National Geographic Online Bookstore. They have other bird books.

I recently received a copy of National Geographic’s Global Birding by Les Beletsky. It’s a big book, and perhaps more than most of us in Michigan need, but it’s an interesting read with wonderful color photos and great information.

Birds are a part of my life. While I may not go out with binoculars and a bird book in hand, I do enjoy my love affair with birds.

Dreaming of Quebec's Arctic char

Doug Knight left and guide on Tunulik River & Knight with nice fish.

The dream began sometime late last night. Many of my better dreams are remembered, and some are savored and occasionally one will haunt me for a day or two. This one was weird but true, as are most tales of fishing or hunting dreams from the far north.

My dreams often deal with fishing or hunting, and the odd thing is that many are dreams about things I’ve experienced sometime in the past. Last night’s dream was from 30 years ago and it's as vivid as the photo above. It was my first trip where Arctic char were available, and it was a wonderful week spent catching the occasional Atlantic salmon, brook trout and char.

There was Ed Murphy from Sports Afield magazine, a man I'd sold many magazine articles to. He and the late Doug Knight, a freelance writer, and I were fishing at Bobby Snowball's camp at the mouth of Quebec's Tunulik River. Mind you, the Tunulik literally throws itself over a waterfall about 300 yards up-river from salt water, and the stream gradient from the falls to the salt is steep with haystacks of standing white water.

Getting to this area of Quebec’s Ungava Bay is a long plane ride.

I was accustomed to sight-fishing for visible fish, and Arctic char were our quarry. A few Atlantic salmon were mixed in with the char, and it took a heavy Dardevle to get down to the char holding at the edge of the fast water.

Bobby Snowball, an Inuit from Quebec's Ungava Bay region spoke fluent English as he met the plane. I'd made all the arrangements for the three of us on this trip, and he escorted me up the dock to the cabins where we would sleep. Children were throwing balls, and one of the balls bounced off a dead Inuit woman laying on the ground beside my tent.

"Uh, Bobby," I asked, trying not to be offensive but needing to know, "what's up with the dead woman?"

"Oh, that's my mother," he said. "She died three days ago and we're waiting for an airplane to come in and take her back to town. Hopefully, she will go out tomorrow."

The dead lady was a bit troubling but it soon passed.

The fishing was nothing short of sensational. Large orange-colored fish held below the falls in the rushing white water, and by casting into the falling water and feeding six feet of slack line into the cast, the Dardevle <www.eppingerdardevlelures.com> was soon wobbling past their noses. Every tenth cast or so, a char would peel out of the group and savagely maul the lure.

These fish are uncommonly strong, and when swimming downstream, it took them 20 seconds to peel off line and make it to salt water. On the hook-up, I jumped from rock to rock (some as big as a single-story house), and to say I was leaping like a gazelle would be wrong. I felt more like a young hippo, and it had to have been a roller coaster ride for the fish.

Of all the char we caught only one jumped and it was at best a feeble attempt. However, the fight on 10-pound line was as tough a struggle as any angler could hope to experience. If a 12-pound char and a 15-pound Chinook salmon were tied tail to tail, the char would drag the salmon to its death. There is no give-up in their fight, and once we reached salt water, the fish were still full of energy and every fight turned my wrist into a weary joint that became more weakened by the day.

The Inuit were a quiet but fun-loving group, and when we stopped for shore lunch, I soon learned to cook my own lunch of Arctic char. Bobby and his friends and neighbors would fare well at today's sushi bars. Their fish, wrapped in tin foil and tossed into the fire, weren't even warm in the middle when they began eating. We decided to cook our own fish, and the red flesh was delightful when cooked until done but not overcooked.

Fresh fish cooked on the rocky shoreline were tasty.

One fish would feed Knight, Murphy and me, and once we began cooking our own, we were soon hooked on the delicate taste.

One sea-run brook trout was caught and I tangled with and landed two Atlantic salmon on spoons but they were returned. The Inuit told me they were legal to keep, but legal only for the Native People and not for visitors. For us, if one could be caught on a fly, it would have been a legal catch.

This particular trip was recalled in its entirety last night, and relayed here. The fishing was next-door to the best I've ever seen, and there is something haunting about watching herds of caribou migrate by within 50 yards while we battled fish with flanks the color of orange-pineapple ice cream.

And, best of all, the elderly dead lady vanished from outside my tent wall late the second day and I mentally wished her a safe journey, and I slept like a baby that night while dreaming of crimson-sided wilderness fish.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Are you a giver or taker?

Where wil bear and deer go when there are no more wild places?

Are you a giver or a taker? It's a very simple question that goes far beyond a one-word yes-no answer.

The bottom line here, in the event this question surprises you, is very simple. Do you take more from your fishing or hunting experiences than you give back?

The purchase of a fishing or hunting license grants us no more than a chance to legally fish or hunt or trap in season. It is a privilege but not a guaranteed God-given right.

It promises opportunities, not limit catches or a heavy game bag.

In days of old, when knights were bold, landowners also owned the fish and game. They owned the river water that flowed through their properly, and Heaven help any soft-headed peasant who poached one of the king's red deer stags, a brown trout or an Atlantic salmon.

The population 300 years ago was far less than today, and peasants were kept in their places and ruled with an iron fist. People caught poaching were severely punished, and any fish or game illegally taken was confiscated.

Things are much different these days. We have flowing springs, but bottled-water plants are tapping into the aquifers. They take our ground water but put nothing back. There are developers ready to quickly fill wetlands, and they operate on the premise that it's easier to apologize later, if caught, than seek permission first.

These are trying times, and everyone wants and needs some outdoor recreation. We need to smell the roses, but what will happen when the roses no longer bloom? What will happen when former trout streams become a turgid trickle before drying up because a bottling plant has shipped our water out of state for corporate profit, and the trout have disappeared because bottlers have drained and sold our water?

Stand up and speak for what you believe in.

How many people are speaking out? Are you standing up to face big business, and asking the hard questions: Is sale of our water a right and proper thing to do? What happens to Great Lakes water when Arizona, New Mexico and Texas want their share? What will we do then?

God help us if the Asian carp gain entrance to the Great Lakes. Out new Carp Czar says he doesn’t think it will happen, but while people stand around and wring their hands about the problem, some of those fish could be moving through Chicago’s canals and waterways. Are you following that problem and pushing for immediate action? I(f not, why not?

Who among us speaks out about urban sprawl in the Traverse City area? Or near Charlevoix and Gaylord areas? On the Petoskey-Harbor Springs region? If you haven’t looked lately, the northwestern corner of Lower Michigan is spreading out at a rapid pace, traffic is horrid, and it reminds me of Detroit.

How many people will take a few minutes from their busy lives to ask why this is happening and how can it be controlled? Why does state government allow this to occur? Why are cities like Detroit becoming an empty maze of cluttered and unsafe streets, boarded up crack houses, and why has 1.2 million people fled Detroit over the past 20 years? Why is the same thing happening in Flint and other once prosperous southern cities?

What will become of our open fields, marshlands, hardwoods and conifers that now provide cover for game and non-game animals and birds? Has anyone paid attention to the downsizing of Michigan's deer herd and our Department of Natural Resources? The marked decrease in snowshoe hares and various game birds such as ruffed grouse has become alarming?

What will happen to our environment and wild game if no one cares?

As alarming, what’s happening to the hoped-for increase in hunter numbers? Baiting died three years ago in the Lower Peninsula, and hunter numbers went with it. At the same time, baiting continued in the Upper Peninsula. Is this fair and equitable treatment to Lower Peninsula hunters?

Is it fair that private landowners get preferred treatment from the DNRE for spring turkey tags, but private landowners in the Northern Lower Peninsula cannot get such a permit. How fair is that?

The answer is simple. We're talking about habitat loss in most parts of the state. We're talking greedy businessmen. How, I wonder, can Exxon and other gas companies declare such huge profits for shareholders while the average motorist breaks his back trying to stay solvent in a credit-card society that is rife with foreclosures. We have Medicare programs that no one understands. It's bureaucracy at the worse possible level.

Granted, what has happened in the past several years to our deer herd is not easy to cope with or accept. But take a hard look at some of the problems.

Urban sprawl is eating away at the land needed for deer to thrive. People move north, buy five or 10 acres of paradise, and disrupt deer travel routes. Homes are built where deer once crossed roads. As more people move in, buy land and build homes, the terrain becomes fragmented. The deer soon disappear to another area that has yet to be exploited, but how long will that area be safe?

People are seeing bears where bruins have never been seen before. The animals need a place to live, but humans have taken over. My wife and I own 20 acres we bought 30 years ago, and admit that we added to the problem. However, we did it long before the big northern invasion began, and since then, plant food plots every year to help wildlife.

Deer numbers in our area are way down so we hunt elsewhere at times. Does this solve the problem? Of course not, it just puts a bit more hunting pressure on an area that hasn't yet felt the full force of land development like what has taken place around Traverse City and other northern cities.

Thirty years ago Traverse City was a quaint northern Michigan town with about 8,000 people. Look at it now. We have the same problems as southern cities have faced for many years. Drugs, embezzlement, robbery, murder. Such things now live on our doorstep, and paradise no longer glimmers.

Twenty or 30 years from now, when Traverse City has expanded southeast past Kingsley to Fife Lake, southwest to Copemish and Thompsonville, northwest to fill the entire Leelanau Peninsula and Benzie County, and northeast to meet Charlevoix and Gaylord that are expanding southward, we'll have the same problems that people fled when they moved north.

The difference is those who moved north brought their heavy baggage with them, and now they want this area to be like their home area once was. Folks, it doesn't happen that way.

When will many people learn to care for other things and not be selfish?

When will people look around, see the slow but sure decay and destruction of this area, and wonder how and why it has happened? Of course, the answer is easy: we are too busy raising our family, pinching pennies because half our pay is a view of the bay, and if we live long enough, we'll learn that if we aren't part of the solution, we must be part of the problem.

Meanwhile, paradise has been turned into another drug store, gas station, bank or a cement-carpeted parking lot. And one must look hard to find a rose to smell, a deer to see, or that wonderful silence at night when the northern lights dance and glow in the heavens and the coyotes howl at the moon.

The problem is we've taken what we feel is ours and given nothing back. How sad is that, and when will we learn? Sadly, I’m sure many people will be asking that question after it’s too late to change our ways.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

One bad stand and lock (Tags: dave, richey, Michigan, outdoors, tree, stands. ladders, locks, chains, spring, work, loosen, chains, thieves))

Stands must be securely positioned long before fall bucks start to move.

Anyone who lives near Traverse City understands my problem. It’s one of weather damage and personal health. Weather damage to my tree stands and ladders, and my personal safety while hunting from a tree.

We all know that the chains or straps that hold tree stands in position on trees should be relaxed just a bit in the winter or early spring as the tree grows to prevent them from having the wood grow around what holds it to the tree. Two of my stands on my land were positioned too close to a new neighbor, and I wanted them moved.

My immediate area has received more than 100  inches of snow so far this winter on my land. Incidentally, those were measured inches. And now I’m entertaining ideas of which ladder stands must be moved during the spring and early summer.

Doing a spring job in the winter by removing a chain & lock from a tree stand.

The decision was made without thinking too much about it until today. I climbed one tree while a friend helped keep it tight to the tree and steady, and started to unfasten the cable and fancy lock that kept somebody from stealing the Summit <www.summitstands.com> . The stand was one of six that are locked to that property.

Since some fool stole two sections of a ladder stand, but left the stand on the tree, I’ve begun chaining and locking ladder sections together.

Here’s the problem. Some guy approached me at some show some time ago, wanted some of my books and had some cables and locks he was willing to trade. It seemed a fair deal so I got two heavy cables and two stout locks in exchange for some books.

The rigs worked perfectly. They had been in place for four years, and each winter I’d loosen them an inch or so, and as the tree grew, I’d tighten them up if necessary.

I went to take the first stand down, and couldn’t find the key. I’ve got about three dozen locks and chains that I use to anchor my stands to trees. All are locked with case-hardened locks and chains. I don’t want some thief putting the five-finger discount on my hunting equipment so all get locked to the tres.

Lost keys to a lock becomes an infuriating inconvenience.

Mind you, I have a massive key collection and there is one each for every lock on every tree stand, seat or ladder I use. Some are lightly painted different colors to match locks painted in similar colors. It does save some time rather than having to go through three-dozen keys while trying to find the right key for the right Master lock <www.masterlocks.com> .

The key to this lock appeared to be missing. So, I went through every key again, doing my best to avoid trying the same key twice. I tried  each key right-side-in, and then upside down, and that didn’t work either.

Down I’d come, unhook my Rescue One CDS safety harness <www.mountaineer-sports.com> once I reached the ground, walk to the house, find some other keys, and walk back to the tree. Crawl into my harness, hook up my safety line, and climb the ladder like an aging monkey with bad knees and weak ankles, and try again. Another failure.

Back home, go through a lifetime’s accumulation of other keys, get those that might work, and back I’d go to repeat the process. Again, I met with failure.

I had to get the lock off the cable before I could get the stand down. A hacksaw was tried on the lock and it  was made of stainless steel. The blade slipped on the metal. I didn’t want to cut the cable, but in the end that was all that could be done. I took the lock into Traverse City to a lock company, and had them remove the lock. They couldn’t open it either.

So I’ve got one of two stands down and out of the woods that must be moved. I’ll set up the stand in the spring in a new spot, get a new chain, and fasten it down so the chains don’t rattle like an angry ghost. Once done with that stand, I’ll get the other one down, and then stay away from all of the stands until all the snow is gone.

The thing that ticks me off is the lost key. I protect my stands, never loan out my keys to anyone, and if necessary, will walk a long distance to get a different lock and chain. But my keys are kept in a safe place and away from children.

I’m not a happy camper when two days of work on tree stands is lost because of a missing key. Add  to that the damage to a  cable that may or may not be in any shape to be repaired, a ruined lock and the waste of time.

This time, I’ll lock them up with keys I’ve used before on locks that have never failed me. It’s not going to alleviate the problem, but hopefully it will save a day or two of frustration in the future.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Talking turkey requires plenty of practice

Don’t practice calling in the field to gobblers, John Phillips yelping.

It’s not my intent to create marital acrimony. It is my intent to get turkey hunters in April and May to have some calling practice under their belt before they don their Mossy Oak <www.mossyoak.com> camouflage clothing and take to the turkey woods.

One might ask now during the dead of winter: 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 it isn't to you, it should be.

I’ve turkey hunted for many years in Michigan and other states, and find the physical act of calling a gobbler close enough to shoot to be more exciting than actually shooting the bird. Most hunters who have taken a number of longbeards often  feel the same.

It's one thing to choose a spot to ambush a gobbler as he walks by, which is legal but not very sporting. It's still another to make the longbeard come to you, one or two tentative 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 toward a hen call.

The epitoome of turkey hunting is calling a gobbler in.

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

Good questions. No, Harold Knight of Knight & Hale Game Calls once told me one doesn't have to be an expert to be successful he said that “calling is not extremely difficult but getting the right cadence can be tricky.”.

Using a diaphragm call is much more difficult to learn than an aluminum, crystal, glass or slate friction call. The wood box call is perfect for first-time hunters because it is one of the easiest to master, and the easiest of all 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 trumpet is a person who has my admiration. It is extremely difficult to master, which is why few people use them in the northern states. Wingbones are more commonly used in southern states.

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 in Alabama with the late 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 told me. "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 often. A caller who calls much too often will scare more birds than he will attract."

Choose your calls wisely and practice often with each one.

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 that feels the most comfortable.

A turkey show was on television recently, and 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 produces the best sound, and there's no need to switch back and forth from horizontal to vertical.

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 - David Hale could make astounding sounds with a diaphragm call but mine sound like a gobbler with an adenoid problem. 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. Go to Knight & Hale at <www.knight&hale.com> .

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 gobblers when they are within 50 yards.

The hen yelp is an important one to learn.

A yelp begins 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 low tone. My yelps sound like a bird with tonsillitis but they usually 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. Try Southland Game Call’s new yellow heart crystal from <www.southlandcalls.com> .

All four materials require the use of a peg or striker. Strikers are made of carbon, 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. but the key to success is practice. I sit in my basement office, and practice often while my wife and grandkids go to the other end of the house..

Treat call-shy gpbblers carefully. Don’t too much or too loud.

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 or purr for five seconds and shut up.

A big limbwalker 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.

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 and with a box or slate call to imitate two hens calling for Tommie. This trick has produced many gobblers for me and my friends. Or, try creeping backwards and turn and call softly awau to imitate a hen moving to a more distant location.

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 to check if it appears dangerous

alling isn't particularly difficult but it requires some practice. Do it in the car or at home, but not out in the field. The first time you call outdoors is when you have a shotgun in hand.

One final tip: mosquitoes can be a problem in the spring.The ThermaCELL unit keeps them at bay. Check it out at <www.mosquitorepellent.com> .

The above are 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 when the April-May turkey season is open, and work at learning something new every day. Studying turkey behavior and their calls- will pay off.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Shoot targets of opportunity

This hunter didn’t shoot at other animals. He jusr shot a nice buck.

There is one thing I've noticed over the years. The bow hunter who shoots at coyotes, fox, grouse, porcupines, rabbits and squirrels seldom bag many deer. Oh, there are exceptions but not many.

Years before the compound bow, and before we could hunt from tree stands, I knew a man who only hunted three or four times a year. One time out he shot a coyote, and the next time while hunting from a stand near a big pine tree, he shot a porcupine.

Year after year he would complain. The other hunters, he'd gripe, shoot deer but I never see them. I need to find me a different  stand where there are some deer.

Deer hunters must be narrowly focused on their hunt.

I gave him a fairly blunt answer. I told him that hunters who are constantly shooting at chipmunks, rabbits, squirrels and other game and non-game animals, very seldom shoot deer.

His argument was he got bored when not shooting at the varmints and small game, and that he wouldn’t be bored if he saw more deer. I wanted the man to shoot a nice buck, but he was his own worst enemy. He just wanted to kill something and couldn’t sit still long enough for deer to work their way to him.

I laid out a hypothetical situation and asked him to look at it mt way. There you are, perched in a tree stand or in a ground blind, and along comes a coyote. You draw back and shoot, and it makes little difference whether you hit or miss. The sound of the bow releasing the arrow, and all the commotion that follows, is what shies deer away from the stand.

Or , I asked him, think about it this way. Our deer wander quite a bit, and you are relatively open in a tree stand. The porkie waddles along the ground, making his little pig-like sounds, and you stand up, come to full draw and shoot. That amounts to quite a bit of movement.

Fifty or 100 yards away stands a buck or doe about to step out to walk in your direction. They see movement in the tree (you), movement on the ground (the porcupine), and then hear the bow go off and the arrow striking the porkie and the ground.

Shooting at targets of opportunity other than deer is not wise.

The porkie waddles off, leaking blood, thrashes around in the brush and dies. Those deer have seen enough to settle the case for them; they hightail it in the opposite direction.

I know a man that shot a coyote from a tree. It was a good hit, and the 'yote ran 100 yards before dropping. A deer that was back in thick cover and could see the hunter, hears the shot and the frantic fast-paced dash of the wounded coyote.

Curious, he steps to the edge of cover, and watches as you climb down from the tree stand and walk over to the dead animal. You'll take it out to show your buddies later, but walk off a good distance and put the carcass down, walk back and climb into your stand.

How many deer will you see that night? My guess is not very many.

A buddy of mine believed in object lessons. He put a young man in a ground blind, and told him not to leave the stand until he came in on a four-wheeler to pick him up. Stay in the stand, and don't open the door.

The man returned that evening after shooting time had ended, took the four-wheeler a half-mile back to the stand to pick up the dude, and there was the blind door banging back and forth in the wind. He said he'd shot a big doe right behind the front shoulder.

The shooter and his father-in-law looked, gave up for the night, and the young man was chewed out for leaving the stand before the four-wheeler came to pick him up, for not latching the door, and for being somewhat stupid. They found the doe fawn that weighed perhaps 30 pounds (ground shrinkage), and the kid was razed good.

My buddy said he'd give the kid another chance, and he could sit in the same blind the next night. The kid was again warned not to leave the coop or to open the door, and he didn't. He also didn't see any deer that night, and my friend said "it serves you right for not listening the first time." The kid knew he'd been had, and paid for his stupidity by spending an evening looking for deer that would never show up that night.

Shooting a game animal or bird is fine if you don't want to shoot a deer, and fine if the animal or bird is still in season and you have a small-game license. It's never a good idea if you want to shoot deer.

Shooting at game other than deer tips whitetails off to your presence. You may be the only hunter in your party with a porcupine kill, but the others may shoot deer. Take your choice.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Ice fishing is good

Perch, smelt & walleye fishing can be good in various locations.

The best description of an ice fishermen is so old it should have long grey whiskers. It states that an ice fisherman is a jerk on one end of the line waiting for a jerk on the other end.

Chuckle, chuckle.  Yuk. Yuk.

If so, count me as one of the half-frozen brethren. I admit to enjoying the sport, and each year look forward to taking to the ice in search of tasty fish. However, we are now closing in on the end of frozen-water fishing sport even though another two weeks of fun may still be had.

Folks might wonder why anyone with a normal intelligence quotient would sit on the cold ice in bone-chilling Arctic winds and swirling snow while facing possible frostbite. Is it necessary?

The answer is yes and no. One can choose to sit out in the cold or use one of the new fold-up portable shanties on the market, light a Coleman catalytic heater , and fish in shirt-sleeves. We do have a choice.

Good ice fishing in northern counties

For me, sitting on a frozen lake breathing fresh air is far more relaxing than sitting in front of a television, watching sleep robbers on the tube, eating buttered and salted popcorn and getting fat.

Ice fishing is fun. It can offer wholesome outdoor entertainment for the entire family, and each year more people discover the rejuvenating aspects of fresh air, outdoor exercise and great winter sport.

There is a camaraderie to this sport. Forget your ice strainer, and a neighbor will loan you theirs. Run out of bait, and another angler will step forward and offer enough to get through the day.

If it’s a bitter cold or windy day, sitting out on the ice is a nasty experience. A Clam ice-fishing shanty is a life saver.

Sharing is a human quality, encountered often on the ice. A friend who recently achieved senior status and earned the right to buy a cheaper license, learned about sharing while walking onto the Tawas Bay ice.

A vehicle leaving the ice stopped as he walked across the frozen wasteland. His new friends invited him into their car, drove him the half-mile back to their shanty, unlocked the coop and left him with a warm, fuzzy feeling. The had helped a perfect stranger without expecting anything but a "thank you" in return.

These last two weeks of safe ice remind me of past winter fishing trips. It's easy to remember the days when fish bit well, but often it's the little things that mean more to winter anglers. Here are several examples of mine.

Cautious approach

Years ago, when lake trout were first making news in this state, three of us fished the west arm of Grand Traverse Bay. We hiked offshore from M-22, and drilled six holes through the ice.

The first two holes went through 12 inches of clear blue ice. The next two holes, moving farther out over deeper water, went through 10 inches of ice. The fifth hole went into eight inches, and the last hole, just 20 yards away, zipped through just one inch of rubbery ice.

We were lucky that day. Grand Traverse Bay has strong undercurrents, and one inch of ice is like walking on cellophane. We withdrew from that hole in an exaggerated spread-eagled duck-walk with our hearts pounding. We drilled the last hole through eight inches of ice over 120 feet of water, and began catching lakers of sweetened jigs and tip-ups.

The water was so clear the creamy spotted lakers rose from the depths with a luminous glow as they twisted and turned below our feet. Those fish fought like caged tigers, and my memory of them and the quality eating they provided, remain with me today.

Frostbite

Another time while participating in a Michigan Outdoor Writers Association winter meeting at Sault Ste. Marie, we jigged for walleyes on nearby Munuscong Bay in bitter cold temperatures driven by a strong north wind. Several walleyes to 20 inches were caught, Swedish Pimples and it wasn't until our return to shore that someone asked about those "funny-looking" white patches on my cheek, ears and nose.

Anyone who has stared in awe at the famous Richey schnozz, and how my ears stick out like a taxi cab going down the street with both doors open, can understand why they were frostbitten.

My nose, like Pinocchio's, sticks out so far it suffered hours of subzero cold. It didn't take much for my ears to attract the cold either. The fierce pain experienced during the thawing-out process was remembered long after the walleye fishing had been forgotten.

Take kids fishing

Years ago when my four kids ranged in age from four to eight years, they often accompanied me to North Lake near Millington. The lake was filled with bluegills and sunfish, and the winter fish were always hungry.

It was a time when the Old Man could teach them how to fish, and we often spent several weekends each winter in pursuit of fine catches. Once they tired of jigging a tiny teardrop jig baited with a wax worm, they could skate, go sledding or build snowmen.

Once the physical exertion ended, and they settled down to fish, many 'gills would dot the nearby ice. They helped me clean the catch at day's end, and never were far away when it was time to tuck into platters of pan-fried fish.

Pike action

Some fine winter memories were born on Manistee Lake at Manistee when it delivered jumbo pike through the ice. One day, with temperatures in the low 30s and 12 inches of ice underfoot, me and two other fishermen were fishing with sucker-baited tip-ups off the Manistee River mouth near East Lake. It proved to be a day we would long remember.

The pike, some silver and fresh from Lake Michigan, were in a feeding frenzy. Red tip-up flags were popping in the air at almost every tip-up site, indicating fish, and we spend long hours battling pike to 18 pounds.

The fish would make long hard runs, and the braided Dacron line would sizzle through our fingers. Each and every pike would fight until it could battle no longer, and many took 15 minutes of back-and-forth scrapping before the fish could be landed.

There is something savage about a big pike, and when it is time to lead a trophy fish to the ice hole, an angler must take his time and do it right. The long slender snout should be positioned just under the ice hole, and a three-pronged gaff would be lowered under its chin.

Once gaff and fish were properly positioned, the gaff was brought up and sunk into the pike's lower jaw, and it would come splashing out.

Each fish, long and glistening and tooth-studded, was a victory. Those trophy pike were among the hardest fighting fish to land that has been my pleasure to hook through the ice.

Walleye flurry

Once, several years ago, the late Al Lesh of Warren, several others and I made a snowmobile trip across Lake St. Clair to a point about a half-mile off Ontario's Thames River mouth.

The first two spots were unproductive, but the third location was charmed. I lowered a Swedish Pimple sweetened with a shiner minnow within inches of bottom, jigged it twice and set the hook into a walleye.

We fought a rugged battle, that walleye and me, and eventually it came up through the ice hole and was landed. Moments later, another walleye met the same fate, and soon everyone in our party was hooking the tasty fish.

Six anglers limited out that day. Walleyes to eight pounds were landed in what ranks as one of the most exciting flurries of activity I have experienced on the ice.

And people wonder why we dunk bait or lures through an ice hole? They shouldn't; anyone who has ever tasted winter success will always look forward to the next ice-fishing trip with anticipation and excitement. Good bets this week should be Big Glen (at the narrows) and Higgins lakes.

Anyone looking for daily updated fishing reports north of US-10  should contact Curly Buchner .

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors