My apologies to one and all. This book review feature was scheduled for two weeks ago, which would have provided readers with more time to order books as a Christmas gift. Sadly, computers being what they are, they often choose to take a vacation when we least expect. So my computer crashed and we just got it fixed.

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TITLE: The American Rowboat Motor

AUTHOR: Arlan Carter
PUBLISHER: Fall Creek Publishing Company
DISTRIBUTOR: Fall Creek Publishing Company

CONTACT: Fall Creek Publishing Company, PO Box 107, Fall Creek. WI 54742
PHONE: (800) 695-6017
COST $39.90
COMMENT Hardcover. 400 pages, 8 ½ X 11-inch format, patent drawings, period advertising, 80 pages on the Evinrude Company, and more than 40 manufacturers represented book description

 This book by renowned author Arlan Carter covers the gamut of early outdoor motors from the beginning of gas-powered motors. Many photos and advertisements are in color. The first outboard motor isn't one that is easily recognized today.

The  information says, the first outboard motor manufactured in the United States was patented in Nov. 22, 1902, originally from Chicago. It had a motor that was independent of the rudder. The complete outfit  weighed 35 pounds and ran off a battery. It was known as an engine that could be started by pushing a button.

The first internal combustion gasoline outboard was made by American Motor Company. This engine was produced from 1862 through April 2, 1924, and it’s believed that the company is thought to have produced 25 engines, and was capable of making speeds "six or eight miles per hour".

The book thoroughly covers such early outboard engines as

• Arrow
• Caille
• Evinrude
• Motorow
• No-Ro-Imperial
• Cammpbell
• Cyclone
• Elto
• Gilmore
• A. L. Kriderm Lockwood-Ash
• Racine Burroughs
• St. Lawrence
• Viking
• Wright and many others

This is the most in-depth look at the early days of the outboard motor. This is a fascinating history of the outboard engine, and would serve any outboard motor collector well. It offers a wonderful look at the background of our marine engines.

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TITLE: Billy Barnstorm: The Birch Lake Bomber & Other Tales of Youthful Disaster
 
AUTHOR: Joel M. Vance
PUBLISHER: Cedar Glade Press
DISTRIBUTOR: Cedar Glade Press
CONTACT:  Cedar Glade Press, PO Bix 1664, Jefferson City, MO 65102. $18.99 postpaid.
WEBSITE: http://www.joelvance.com
COST $18.99 postpaid

The author is one of my favorite people. He can be funny without trying, and in this paperback book, his outlandish and sometimes weird sense of comedy comes jumping to the surface like one of the largemouth he caught as a lad.. This book speaks to Vance’s youth and the various mischief he and his collaborators got into while spending time near Birch Lake, Wisconsin, more than a half-century ago.

I dislike making comparisons because it’s usually not fair to one or both of those being compared, but reading Joel Vance’s newest book reminds me of reading early humor books written by Patrick McManus. ‘Course, being as I know both authors, I feel a fine and honest comparison can be made. 

Vance’s humor could make a wooden cigar store Indian laugh. In this unique collection of humor about he and his youthful friends, you’ll meet some of his zany friends. There are 14 chapters, excellent b/w drawings by Bruce Cochran. This is guaranteed to please anyone jaded by holiday shopping, and makes a perfect Christmas gift.

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TITLE: The Windward Shore: A Winter On The Great Lakes
 
AUTHOR: Jerry Dennis
PUBLISHER: University of Michigan Press
DISTRIBUTOR: University of Michigan Press
CONTACT: University of Michigan Press, Ann Arbor, MI
WEBSITE: http://www.press.umich.edu
COST $22.95 plus postage from the publisher
COMMENT: This hardcover book with dust jacket, also features the delightful work of artist Glenn Wolff, also of Traverse City, Michigan, whose drawings have graced the pages of other of Dennis’ work.

Jerry Dennis  is a natural treasure, and he keeps writing new and more wonderful books. Fitting him into a specific category can be a bit difficult because he is at once, an outdoor writer, a conservationist, a nature lover, a dreamer, who develops words of magic that capture the soul and spirit of those of us lucky enough to live near the Great Lakes.

A knee injury slowed him down, and in so doing, allowed him the time to “present a true picture of a complex region, part of my continuing project to learn one place on earth reasonably well ,” and this is what he’s accomplished with this book.

Winter around Lake Michigan may hardly seem a great topic for a book, but once Dennis sank his teeth into this tasty morsel that he and I both call home, and the result is the magic of this book about the area, the lives of nearby inhabitants, and stories painted by word pictures about this snow and ice-bound area. He teaches us about living in a log cabin along Lake Superior, more about desolate and wind-swept beaches, the power and the magnetic pull a winter storm has on those of us who stay here all winter rather than heading south with other snowbirds.

Dennis gracefully takes us along with him as we plod along frozen shorelines, listen as the surf pounds at shelves of ice, and we hear and feel the moan of an angry wind as it lashes the North County. We see, feel, hear, taste and touch winter along the Great Lakes, and we rejoice with the author as he examines everything about winter in this area.

It’s a book to be read, laid aside, and go back to read certain passages that stick in our mind as we indulge in becoming one with the winter wind, watch snow and ice in a swirl of sensory perceptions. A truly wonderful read by a favorite author.

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TITLE: Deer Hunting 4th edition
 
AUTHOR: Richard P. Smith
PUBLISHER: Stackpole Books
DISTRIBUTOR: Stackpole Books
CONTACT: Stackpole Books
WEBSITE: http://www.stackpolebooks.com
eMAIL: sales@stackpolebooks.com 
PHONE: (800) 732-3669
COST: $29.95
COMMENT: Paperbound, 448 pages, 297 color photos and 40 years of deer hunting experience from this writer

Richard P. Smith’s name is well known in Michigan and other states and Canadian provinces for his knowledge about bear and deer hunting. His books on deer hunting are many, and all are different. They give readers who own them all, everything the author knows about deer hunting.

Read closely and you’ll see that Smith acknowledges me, but not because I taught him anything mystical about bear and deer hunting. I helped him land his first book (also by Stackpole Books) many years ago and helped with a gentle shove into getting into outdoor writing. He deserves all the praise for this and his 20-odd books.

Smith's ability to shoot quality photos has kept him very busy for the 30-some years he has been working at this trade. He is more knowledgeable about many things that deer do, and many of his secrets are shared in this book.

It is chockfull of tips that can spell the difference between success and failure on a deer hunt, whether here in Michigan or across North America. On the ground, up a tree, stalking, still-hunting, or however you choose to hunt, Smith has most of the answers outlined in great detail in this book.

This is a heavy book, and rightfully so because it is filled to the gunwales with the superb color photos Smith uses to illustrate his books and magazine articles. This book is a keeper, and make no mistake about that. Read and learn. Smith makes it easy.

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TITLE: Brook Trout & The Writing Life


AUTHOR: Craig Nova
PUBLISHER: Eno Publishers
DISTRIBUTOR: Eno Publishers
CONTACT: Eno Publishers, Hillsborough, NC
WEBSITE: http://www.enopublishers.org 
COST: $15.95

I’m a sucker for anything written about brook trout. I consider them the most beautiful and precious of all the trout, and I often wax poetic when writing about them. They make it easy because brookies and I share certain commonalities: we love cold water, wild places, and occasionally difficult places to fish. There are places where big brook trout live, but they are seldom common catches once they grow to lunker size.

I’ve caught brook trout throughout the East, Midwest, in some high mountain western lakes, and across much of Canada. They are found in three primary sizes: midgets, legal size and lunker. Regardless of size, the terrain and geography of where they are caught is part of the allure of this beaufitully spotted game fish.

Nova is a wonderful writer, one seemingly destined to write about these fish. The book tells of the intermingling of fishing and writing in a novelist’s life. This book is well written by a writer who knows brook trout, is excited by any opportunity angle for then, and truly knows brook trout and writing.

This memoir speaks to the uncertainty of writing for a living, which most writers experience early in the game, and writing with the singular notion of writing about just one fish species. He transitions well from fishing to writing about other matters in his life, and he makes it work with a bright and lively well-paced book that is filled with the beauty of the written word. An autobiography I found spellbinding.

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TITLE: Young Beginners Guide To Shooting  & Archery: Tips For Gun & Bow


AUTHOR: W. H. (Chip) Gross
PUBLISHER: Creative Publishing International
DISTRIBUTOR: Creative Publishing International
CONTACT: Creative Publishing International, Minneapolis, MN
WEBSITE: http://www.creativepub.com
PHONE: (800) 328-3895  
COST: $15.99

Most books written for children talk down to the kids, which can build resentment. The author worked for the Ohio Department of Natural Resources, and is responsible for having taught many children how to fish and hunt. Gross has a particular interest in safe hunting because he lost an eye in a hunting accident.

This book covers all the bases when it comes to hunting with a bow or firearm, and it is covered adequately and in sufficient depth to make it meaningful to children. It is liberally sprinkled with color photos.

I spent 20 years as the outdoor writer for The Detroit News, and one of my primary duties each fall was to put on Michigan’s largest Hunter Education program. Gross has done the same for the  Ohio DNR, and it’s impossible to work with a large number of kids without learning how to get along with them and to make their training something they will remember the rest of their lives.

Gross takes us step by step through the process of safely learning how to hunt with bow and firearm, how to achieve better accuracy, and most important of all, how to enjoy a safe hunting trip.

Hoping for the right wind

Cold swamp mist circles around this big buck.

 

Someone once said the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Mine were honorable, and I'd planned to hunt whitetails this evening.

That is until the raw northwest wind picked up, and began swirling. My spot at my buddy's place is in his long and narrow swamp, and the wind must be perfect even when wearing Scent-Lok clothing.

I had my old underwear ready to go and outerwear from several years ago to put on over it, but it just seemed like I would be running a risk of spooking the animals. One thing I've learned about this area is there are no second-chance winners.

Make one mistake, and get busted, and it's all over at that stand. The deer avoid it, move to another portion of the swamp, and work through some funnels before leaving his property.

The swamp is a great place to hunt but mistakes aren’t allowed.

 

I've seen it happen before. A friend hunted with me last December, and a deer caught his movement as he climbed into the stand. He could see the deer 60 yards away, and well out of his effective bow range. Once he climbed into the stand, the winter air at the slightly higher elevation carried his scent directly to the deer.

They stood out there and snorted. And then they moved 50 yards and snorted some more. He climbed down and walked out to his truck and waited for me to finish my hunt. His spot was then abandoned by deer.

Scent is one thing that I am cautious about. I move slowly to my stand, but I don't try to sneak in. I'd rather walk along like I'm heading somewhere else, and then quickly get into my stand with a minimum of muss or fuss. No noise is the ideal situation.

This area is a narrow 80 acres, and for the most part, is a cedar swamp with some pine and birch trees. I scoped it out last summer, and put up my stand and then stayed away from it for almost six months.

It is a world-class spot in December after the firearm season ends. I hunt it when the wind has been right, and have stayed out of there when the wind is wrong. It's common sense deer tactics.

The owner has two or three stands in place, and I have just one. There are days when he can hunt and I cannot, but that's OK by me. I simply pick and choose my hunting days with care.

Hunt here just once of twice in October and again in December.

 

So far this December I have hunted there twice. Each outing has produced deer sightings, and I haven't been bumped by a deer....yet. I've seen but one buck, and it was just a glimpse two weeks ago when it was much warmer than now.

Three trails come together within 15 yards of my stand. There are tracks going both ways on each of trail, and I've seen deer moving along each trail. As legend has it, there are two very nice bucks living in this swamp but I haven't seen them nor have I spotted an unusually large track in the area.

I'm hoping to get out tomorrow night if the wind cooperates. I may be able to hunt Saturday evening, and I hope to hunt Sunday evening if we can finish our family dinner by 1:30 p.m., which would give me enough time to hustle into my stand.

It's never been my intention to over-hunt a stand, and I haven't logged too many hours or days in this one. The deer here, as in most areas in December, seldom move until the last 15 minutes of legal shooting time. The last time I hunted it I couldn't leave because the deer were still milling about, and had me pinned down.

When shooting time ended, I removed my arrow from the bow, put it in my bow quiver and sat motionless. The deer continued to mill around for 15 minutes before they drifted away to the east to work over a nearby farmer's corn field.

Overhunting key areas like this can chase deer away.

 

So again, not because I didn't want to, but I was unable to hunt tonight. This I will promise you: the owner has given permission to put up one or two other stands.

Those will go up in the spring, and I'll stay away from them all summer. When the season opens, I'll have a good spot picked out for those days when the east wind blows. It's tiresome trying to find a decent spot to hunt on an east wind, and if I sat out every east-wind evening, I wouldn't be spending much time in the woods.

That will change next year.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Late-season bow hunt

A nice December buck steps out of a thicket to feed.

 

It is a grand experience, this bow hunting for winter whitetails, but what makes it so special is that every day is different. Every day in the woods is one of pure joy, even on those days of hard east winds.

Not all days are created equal when it comes to bow hunting. There are those special days that come along perhaps two or three days each season where we know something truly special will happen.

The possibilities of what may happen are endless. Perhaps a beet-red sun falls out of the western sky at sunset, and we set and marvel at nature's beauty. Sometimes the wind will switch at just the right time so the hunter catches a break and shoots a buck with large antlers, occasionally more by accident than on purpose.

Each December day offers something special to deer hunters.

 

Some days are memorable because we see a whitetail buck that we've never seen before, and the animal is large enough to have been around for four or five years but has escaped detection until now.

A hunting day can be spectacular when we watch two large evenly matched bucks fight for dominance. The dust flies, there is the thunder of their hooves stomping the ground, the grunting as they push and shove in an effort to whip the other buck. Some fights end in a tie, but most reach a finale when one buck, clearly outmatched, gives up.

There is always the pleasure and personal pride of exquisite placement of an arrow, and the knowledge that the buck will be dead in two or three seconds. A touch of sadness always comes over us when we realize that we've taken that animal's life for our nourishment.

Just as we feel a bit sad, we also feel a keen sense of accomplishment. The downing of a grand buck is a happening; it is something we'll long remember, and the memory of the buck will live on forever once it has been stored in our personal memory bank.

We take pride in our skills, and we pursue deer with a purpose. Some bucks will be passed up, and some will not. Much of the time we never know we are going to shoot until the trigger finger twitches on the release, and the buck goes down.

Winter hunting is more about winter hunting than just killing deer.

 

Hunting isn't just about killing nor is it about letting all deer live. There is a mental and physical balance we must maintain within ourselves, and the deer herd, that tells us it's time to stop.

Stopping hunting is out of the question for me. I may stop carrying my bow, but I hunt 12 months out of the year. All of it, in one form or another, is scouting. I remember late-fall deer trails, study where deer bed down in the winter, and learn where big bucks live and why they are found there during the hunting season.

Hunting is a never-ending endeavor to learn and study the deer we hunt. We greet each season with enthusiasm, we scout long and hard to learn the habits of good bucks, and we put forth more than a bit of energy learning our hunting area.

It means laying down plenty of boot leather, checking food sites and deer trails, and watching deer from afar to avoid spooking them. This love affair with deer may well be an addiction but it's not a harmful one.

This is not an easy time to hunt but it can be rewarding.

 

The more we watch and study deer, both bucks and does, the more we learn. The more we know about why deer do what they do, the better we become as a hunter. When we reach a certain pinnacle of skill and hunting success, we begin making each hunt more challenging.

It is, after all, the challenge between man and deer, that brings both of us together in the fall and early winter. The deer-hunting days are dwindling fast, and I can't speak for you, but I haven't had my fill of deer hunting just yet.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Taking a crippled old dog out fishing

Mark Rinckey (with net) lands a Platte River steelhead for David Richey.

I was dreaming the steelhead dream, and my world was one of rushing river water, a jumping fish hanging in the sky with droplets of cold water hanging of its hard body, and there I stood: looking like a big doofus, with a broad grin on my face, and loving the experience.

Then I came out of my mid-day reverie, shook my head once, and the steelhead tugging me downstream was just a good dream at a bad time. The older I get, the more that some of the mistakes of my youth come back to haunt me.

Forty-one years ago, I fell off a fire escape, caught myself on one of the supports, and hung there 30 feet above a paved parking lot. I managed to climb hand-over-hand up the support to the edge of the fire escape, and pull my sorry butt up to safety.

Injuries have caused a weak left leg and weak lower back for me in past few years.

I'd broken two vertebrae in my spine, ruptured a disc, and when I slammed sideways into the brick wall after catching the support, the impact really messed up my back. Three months after back surgery, I slipped on some ice, fell on a piece of fire wood frozen in the ground, and broke the vertebrae above the first break.

That laid me up for a year, and even though I was writing magazine articles at the time, I had to do some from bed. I spent two or three months in a full-body cast, and finally, I was able to walk around. There's an old adage about outdoor writers having to be tough.

I finally got back to work, fished and hunted while traveling all of North America for magazine articles. My back always hurt, but like is true with hockey players, football players, I had to play with pain - day after day.

Then some joker in a BATA bus pulled out in front of me, and although I had my lap and shoulder restraint on, I had no time to stop. The impact as the car T-boned the bus, banged up my chest and ribs. You guessed it: this car didn't have an air bag. Some broken and fractured ribs happened even though the hospital originally told me there was nothing broken. It just took a couple of days to develop.

So, the last 10 years have had its way with me. My left leg has never really worked right, and was always weak. I compensated for the injury and weakness, and most people never knew there was anything wrong.

I knew, and hid the constant pain, and worked despite it. I retired from The Detroit News in May of 2003, and considered spending the rest of my life doing exactly what I did while working as a full-time staff writer - fishing and hunting.

Two years ago, the pain really started to increase. I had to take the occasional days off to rest my body, and then back I'd go again. Gradually, in the past two years, my left leg got very weak and wading rivers became nearly impossible. There has never been any "give up" in my vocabulary, but river fishing became more and more difficult for me.

I was at the point of forgetting about something that had been a part of my life for more than 60 years. I began trout fishing in rivers at 11 years of age, and now at 72, I was facing the grim prospect of never fishing a trout stream again because of bad legs and a bad back.

Here comes guide Mark Rinckey and my son David Richey to the rescue.

Well, I'm more than delighted to write and tell you that my steelhead fishing trip came true two days ago. My son David, of Sitka, Alaska, came home. I'd talked with guide Mark Rinckey of Honor, Michigan, (231-325-6901) and he felt they could get me out on the Platte or Betsie rivers. Frankly, they were a far more optimistic than me.

Rinckey says the warm autumn and little snow, has put a number of steelhead into the Betsie and Platte river. In the past 10 days, Rinckey's methods for other anglers had produced limit catches some days and only a couple fish on other days. However, during those 10 days, they had landed one 18-pound steelhead, two at 17 pounds and numerous fish up to 15 pound. Me, I'd be more than delighted to catch any steelhead.

You see, my left leg doesn't work well. For 41 years, it has been considerably weaker than my right leg. But, oh how I wanted to go, to catch one more steelhead, a game fish that I've fished for quite successfully for 61 years. I'd come to realize how much I missed the hiss of river current flowing around the end of a sweeper, and the sheer determination and dogged fight with a big steelhead was burning a hole in my heart.

We got to the river, and I pulled on my waders, took a few tentative steps on dry grounds, and I felt "I can do this." I walked at my pace, and they helped me down a short dropoff to the water's edge on the Platte, and we got into the water. Mark walked in front of me, David behind me, and we slowly crossed the river.

Mind you, it was the last day of November but the weather had been balmy. It was a bit cool but we were dressed for it.

He we go, getting The Old Man & his creaky bones into the river.

We got to a wide sweeping run against the far bank. Mark gave David some spawnbags, and he'd been here many times before, and hooked a steelhead right away and landed an 8-pound hen steelhead, all bright silver and glistening in the current. He fought it well, and soon the hook was twisted out and the fish was given its freedom.

We cast and cast, and Rinckey left me in the water near shore, and floated back and forth between my son and I. Eventually, it dawned on us that David had probably caught the only steelhead in that run or all the splashing had put the other fish down.

We crossed the river again with Rinckey leading and David following, and me in the middle. I got up and made my way back to the car, and felt great. I was fishing again, doing what I'd done for most of my 72 years. It was a wonderful feeling.

We drove to the Betsie River where Rinckey guided a client to an 18-pound buck steelhead a week before. He said this is where things will be tricky because the water was up, and the current strong.

"I'll be on one side of you and David will be on the other," Rinckey said. "If you stumble or the current sweeps your leg out from under you, we'll have you."

So, in this manner, we waded across the river in near chest-high water, got up on a shallow sand ridge, and walked downstream. Rinckey gave the instructions.

"David, go downstream 30 yards and cast right up next to the opposite river bank, and let it bounce downstream. This is where Ray caught the 18-pounder a week ago. He also caught two 15-pound here the day before yesterday. There are lots of fish in the river."

He pointed out to me where to cast, and cast the spawnbag out to show me where the spawnbag was supposed to go. I'd fished this hole many times before. I could feel the splitshot bouncing along bottom, and suddenly the line stopped.

I snapped the rod tip back and was into a good fish. The fish ranged about 40 feet, stopped and Mark and I eased down through knee-deep water. I'd eased back the rod, moving the fish inches closer, and he responded by making another short run and a half-hearted leap.

"He's hooked good in the corner of the jaw," Rinckey said. I'd pump and reel, and then the fish would take back the six-pound line. We fought a back-and-forth battle for 10 minutes before I could sense the fish tiring. At just the right moment, I eased the fish across the surface to Mark's waiting net.

The fish came to the net and my guide didn't miss this fish.

"You got him!" Rinckey roared in my ear as David yelped with joy to see The Old Man do again what The Boy had seen done hundreds of times before.

The steelhead, a buck weighing 11 pounds, was lifted from the net and held up for me to admire. It was sleek, with that pinkish-red blaze of color along its sides, and I drank in its beauty before asking him to gently release it.

We fished that hole relentlessly for another hour, and Rinckey asked how I was doing.

"My left leg is really getting weak," I said.. "I know we have to wade upstream, and I suggest we do so while I can."

He whistled up David, and we began the upstream trek, one on each side of me. Sheer determination showed on their faces, and I suspect on mine as well. I climbed out of the river like an arthritic hippo, wobbled a bit on my unsteady legs, and then we walked through the woods and up the hill to our vehicles.

I was choked up with emotion as I profoundly thanked both men for making this trip possible. Who knows what the future may bring when it comes to my lifelong passion of steelhead fishing, but this trip was one of the greatest thrills of my angling career. I also want to give thanks to the steelhead for giving me another thrilling battle on light line. It was a day I will never forget.