Stacking time in the deer woods

Whitetail bucks have a way of keeping a hunter honest
photo courtesy Dave Richey Outdoors ©2012

This doesn’t mean my valued readers are dishonest. It simply means that deer have the ability to make hunters learn new things on a regular basis.

They also can make those hunters who think they know everything about deer a pretty humble group of sportsmen. Hunters who feel superior often learn a humbling lesson at the hands of a savvy buck.

There's not much a hunter can't learn if he pays attention to deer.

One thing I’ve learned over many years is to watch other hunters. It doesn’t take long to determine who the great sportsmen are, and who are braggarts. I’ve hunted in a good many camps over the last 60 years, and the loudest and most aggressive hunters are usually the ones who make the dumbest mistakes.

An old saying goes like this: it’s better to keep your mouth shut and be thought a fool than to open it and remove all doubt. The best rule is to keep the mouth closed and pay
attention those who really know what they are doing.

Picking people’s brains, and learning what they know, is fun and can provide valuable information. Savvy hunters never venture an opinion unless they know what they are talking about. That is especially true when talking about hunting whitetail deer.

Southern folk have some great sayings. They’ve been distilled from years of hard work and minding their manners. One saying that has a whole bunch of learning in it is “My momma didn’t raise no fools.”

Don't belong to the foolish group. Learn by studying deer

Folks who gather around savvy hunters should keep that thought in mind. That means do less talking and a lot more listening.

Last year a man brought his son up for a hunt. The boy would come up to the house, make a dumb remark about deer hunting while several of us planned our evening hunts. We were tossing about ideas, and discussing where everyone would sit, and discussing the present wind conditions.

The boy kept nattering on and on. He was taking up precious planning time by constantly interrupting.

One of my friends eventually spoke up rather bluntly and loudly, and said: “Boy, you better learn more about deer hunting before speaking your mind. You want to learn about hunting, sit down, shut up and listen. You’ll learn more that way than you will talking nonsense about a topic you know nothing about.”

When intelligent and good hunters talk, others should pay attention

The boy sat and listened for a minute, spoke up, and my buddy looked hard at him, and the kid went running out the door. His daddy had money, and it’s almost certain that no one had ever talked that way to him before.

I’ve been around whitetails all my life, and spent many years hunting and studying the critters, but there are many others who know many things I don’t know. I listen intently to them and learn.

There are countless ways to learn things but in-the-field experience is the best teacher when it comes time to learn about whitetails. Hunting the animals, and studying them as you hunt, and during the off-season, is the best way to accumulate knowledge. Reading about it, and absorbing that knowledge and putting it to good use, is another way.

What is most important is the hunter can convert that knowledge into an action plan that works in the woods.

Experience will put a fine point on your acquired knowledge. Some of my early deer-hunting knowledge came from talking to old-time hunters and guides, and using some of that information on my personal hunts.

The more days spent afield each year will continue to add to a solid foundation, and one day after learning a great deal about deer hunting, you’ll know you’ve come a long ways in your gathering of deer-hunting knowledge.

That will be the day when you can honestly look yourself in the morning mirror, and confess: “I don’t know as much about deer hunting as I thought I did.

It's called stacking time. And then you go out and stockpile another dozen years of in-the-field experience. No matter how much you think you know, deer always have a way of teaching us a new trick or two.

Max, the smallmouth bass

Me and Max years ago;  I no longer lip-lift or gill-lift fish to avoid possible injury
photo courtesy Dave Richey Outdoors ©2012

TUSCOLA, Mich. – Tucked down deep in a smooth run near a tangle of tree roots on the Cass River was a smallmouth bass – a special fish, because he was an old friend.

Mind you, when we first met, the fish was just a feisty one-pounder. He was all a’glitter with greenish-brown scales, a hint of red in his eye and the built-in temperament of a barroom bully with a belly full of bad brew.

He liked to scrap, and, like some fighters, he always seemed to lose. After two years of striking a variety of lures that hung from his lip when belly-lifted from the water, I named him Max, which seemed the proper name for a born fighter.

We had numerous dust-ups over a few years.

We were buddies years ago, and it’s been a long time since I thought about him.  This year’s bass opener brought him to mind, the same way we recall other old friends.

Max had a split in his dorsal fin, and was easily recognized/ He would come out and play each time I floated the Cass River, and once we finished our little fight, I would release him back to his favorite haunt. A little tired, perhaps, but losing a fight never seemed to bother the bronze-back – he’d be there, ready and eager to scrap each tune I  came into his life.

Max would come out to play whenever I canoed that section of river. I returned him each time he was landed, knowing he’d be there again whenever I returned. Few people ever fished that stretch of river because of all the uprooted trees across the river. One had to work hard to get through that section of river, but I always returned for another fight and he was most accommodating.

Max lived under a submerged root-wad in the Cass River

An old weathered maple had toppled into the river where he lived. The submerged root-wad offered him the security any fish needed to survive. The river poured over the roots, and the bass grabbed any lure, minnow or other morsel.

His only failing was that he was too easy. I never caught another smallie in that location, just my old buddy.
Three summers passed, and with two or three trips each summer on the river. I guess he was whipped by me a dozen times. Each time we tested the others’ mettle, and Max was getting bigger and more pugnacious.

I soon gave up lip-lifting him because I was concerned that such a method may break his mouth, and prevent him from eating, even though he could easily swim away. (See drawing.)

It was during the fourth season that I felt Max had become a solid four-pounder, but I couldn’t find him.. The canoe was eased into a small back-eddy of moving water, and I arched a cast into the new spot and the Beetle Spin came back without a strike.

The lure was changed, and several more casts were made without a strike.. He just wasn’t there.

It came time to analyze the situation. The area where Max had called home had changed during spring’s high water. Sand and silt had built up in the spot he’d called home, and either he left for another location or he had been caught and kept.

My spirits soared as the canoe was eased downstream 20 yards to another hole that was not sand and silted in. The canoe was tethered again to an overhanging tree limb. Ah, just right for an easy cast to his suspected new home.

The lure twinkled downstream with the current, bumping against some bottom debris, and stopped with a sudden jolt. A fish had sucker punched the lure, and I snapped the rod tip up to set the hook. A bundle of fishy dynamite known as a smallmouth bass, brook the river current with an explosive leap.

The bass cleared four feet of water in a head-to-tail jump

The split dorsal fin was easily seen, and Max now was red-eyed and wild as he surged downstream before skippering into the air again with another jump. He dove for bottom and tried to drive his way back into the submerged debris.

The six-pound monofilament hummed under the strain, and judging from his appearance, he had wintered well. He was a robust four pounds, and any stream smallie that size is a genuine trophy.

We settled into a bare-knuckle scrap. I’d give a bit; Max would take line and then falter slightly, and I’d press the advantage.

It was give-and-take as the battle seesawed for five minutes before Max began fining slowly, just out of reach. He was tired, and he knew he was whipped as I belly lifted him from the water.

He seemed to glare balefully as the hook was worried from his jaw. I held him for an instant, and briefly admired his sleek form. Then planted a smooch on his nose before lowering him into the river.

“Goodbye, old friend, and good luck,” I said as I gave him his freedom.  He whirled in the water, splashed a final salute with his tail and was gone.

I never saw Max again. I heard later that summer that a local kid had caught a five-pound smallie from the river. Was it Max? Who knows, but I never saw that bass with the split dorsal fin again.

I floated the river again a few years ago, and caught a two-pounder, which was belly-lifted while supported in the water and released. I named him Max, Jr.

Maybe I’ll try for him again this summer. He may like to come out and play.
-----
Read: Lip Grip is OUT! , an informative article from the O'fieldstream Journal about the dangers of the old-time Lip Grip. Plus, O'fieldstream provides solid advice to insure the bass you release has a far greater chance of surviving to live and fight again.

Unraveling some bow-hunting myths

The author with a nice buck
photo courtesy Dave Richey Outdoors ©2012

You know what a myth is? It's something that is commonly accepted as fact, but it really isn't. You know what I mean: pick up a toad, and you'll get warts and other stuff like that.

There are many myths about bow hunting. Some have been steeped in public acceptance for so long it's difficult to dislodge the thought. Here are a few that bow hunters seem to accept as fact.

*Rutting bucks are stupid. This one has been around so long that it should have long gray whiskers. It's simply not true.

Some myths are repeated so often that many consider them true

Bucks do run during the day and chase does, and occasionally they will do something that humans might think stupid, but they probably make perfect sense to the deer. Don't look for them to run up to a human, and stand idly by while someone shoots at them.

If bucks make any mistake it is chasing does during the mid-day hours. A bow hunter can turn that knowledge to good use by hunting from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m.

*Deer always travel into the wind. That too has been proven wrong so many times each year one would think it would fall out of fashion. Gran'pappy tells his son that two or three dozen times when the kid is young and impressionable, and he believes it. So he tells it to his son, and these old wives' tales get passed down from one generation to the next.

The truth is deer often travel downwind, cross-wind, and quartering into or away from the wind. Deer have always headed west in the morning and east in the evening, and it makes no difference which way the wind is blowing. They will travel upwind, downwind, or quartering into or with the wind.

One thing is certain. Move or make a faint noise, and a curious deer may turn around and come upwind to determine what and where you are. The trick is to give deer no reason to circle into the wind.

*The deer jumped the string. This means a bow hunter comes to full draw, releases an arrow and the deer jumps up or goes down to "duck" the arrow. What nonsense is this? That gives deer human-like intelligence that tells them an arrow is coming.

 

This can be a problem if deer have been alerted to human presence

Deer will move up, down or sideways if they have been alerted. Deer that travel head-up are alert, cautious and a walking bundle of raw nerve endings. Give them a reason to be alert by being caught moving, making some small noise or being winded, and an alert deer may move to avoid danger.

However, if an arrow is traveling 180 feet per second, and a deer is within 20 yards of the hunter, the arrow will impact the animal before the buck or doe can react to the bowstring launching an arrow. Most arrows are traveling from 220 to 280 feet per second, and sometimes more than 300 fps. This precludes a relaxed deer from "jumping the string." Some muscle-bound people who can pull 100 pounds and shoot an arrow in excess of 300 feet per second will have little trouble hitting a relaxed deer.

*The higher the treestand the less chance there is a deer winding you. OK, I've hunted a few times at 30 to 35 feet and dislike it intensely. I know of people who hunt 40 feet in the air, and a friend swears he saw some fool stand on what looked like a tree stand the size of a postage stamp at 50 feet in the air.

What being that high does, if the wind is blowing down toward the ground, is transfer your scent farther from your hunting area. If a deer gets downwind of you at 200 yards, he may still smell you. Knowing which way the wind is blowing, and using milkweed seeds to see where the scent travels, makes far more sense.

 

I prefer more tree cover than being too high in the air

My tree stand preference is 15-16 feet. I depend on my being downwind of the deer, being able to sit still, not make any noise, and being able to shoot accurately from an elevated position. It works exceptionally well for me.

The higher a tree stand the more acute the angle when shooting down at a deer. That angle becomes even more acute the closer the deer is to the stand. Lose your anchor point while aiming, or be a fraction of an inch off at higher elevations, the greater the chance is of missing or wounding a deer.

There are many other bow hunting myths kicking around, and one day soon, we look at some other ones.

Lord, grant us some cooler weather

Kim caught a Flathead catfish and Kay netting the fish
photo courtesy Dave Richey Outdoors ©2012

The idea of going fishing today was just an idea. It quickly faded as the temperature crawled steadily upward from 85 degrees to top out in the mid-90s.

The heat index in Traverse City was 105 degrees, and I had a doctor's appointment. There we were -- Kay and I -- in a car when the air conditioning decided it wasn't going to push out any more cool air. At best, it just kept the warm air circulating around.

Kay and I were in thick stop-and-go for a minor accident meant less circulating air, and the 15-minute ride to the sawbones took a half hour. I quit thinking about fishing in 100-degree temperatures.

Me and high temperature levels have never gotten along well

It hurt my head to think about being outside, on the water, fighting the heat, the broiling sun, the reflected sunshine off the water, and gave it up as a lost cause. Memories of countless days like that came to mind, and most of them were in the late 1960s and through the 1970s when, as a free-lance outdoor writer, it was write and sell stories or starve. There was no choice one summer. We had to tough it out.

That summer, Kay, my daughter Kim and I traveled all summer hoping to catch fish. We were all over Canada, northern Michigan and Wisconsin, and throughout the mid-south. Everywhere we went that summer the temperatures were in the 90s or higher, and fishing was horrible.

We spent a great deal of time on the water from before dawn until 9 a.m., and from 7 p.m. until dark, and it was still sweltering. I remember a northern pike trip to Quebec's northern area, set up shop behind one of their new hydroelectric dams and fished the flooded timber. We barely caught enough fish to eat, and for those of you who read the outdoor magazines, no one is interested in hammer-handle pike stories.

We fished for jumbo walleyes in some of the TVA (Tennessee Valley Authority) lakes in Tennessee where 10-pound walleyes were reasonably common. We never saw one, nor did we catch a walleye. The unbearable heat took the fish deep, slowed their metabolism, and it was another busted trip.

There was a big-bass bite going on in a Georgia lake for a bit in the spring, but by the time we got there, no bucket-mouth bass had been caught in two weeks. The weather hovered near 100 degrees, and then at mid-day, it warmed up.

I was as brown as mahogany, and we dipped our hats and shirts in the water and put them on again. Thirty minutes later we were dipping them again. We'd start the day with two 10-pound blocks of ice in our cooler to keep beverages cold.

The old-fashioned cooler gave up its ghost in short order

Forget it. We had melted water within three hours. Coleman had yet to invent their famous cooler that keeps things cold for nearly a week at a time, regardless of the outside temperature.

We went to North Dakota to fish their reservoirs, and did catch a few early-morning sauger and walleyes, but the fish were small. The bigger photo fish were conspicuous by their absence. Another story idea shot down.

We came home, fished for Lake Michigan salmon, and early morning and last-light seemed to be the only productive times. We did manage enough big kings for a feature story, but all of the other feature stories for Outdoor Life, Field & Stream and Sports Afield were a complete bust.

Strange thing, this free-lance outdoor writing business. Get the story and great photos, and everyone wants to buy stuff. If you can't catch cold in the heat, and the photos are of small fish, no one is interested. It turned out to be absolutely the worst summer of my writing career. It was a major skunk job for that summer. This year is much the same.

Fishing skunks are never fun but broiling heat makes them worse

Were there some hot tips? Everything was hot, but the tips were only lukewarm. Fish early, fish late, fish when the sky was overcast, put in the time, sweat a lot, and go home empty-handed. Get up early the next morning and try it again.

Fishing, normally a contemplative sport, became very boring that summer. The scarcity of willing biters, and constant battering of a hot sun on our bodies, slowly took its toll.

We finally cancelled some of our summer trips, and doubled-up on the fall trips in hopes of recovering some lost income. It worked, up to a point, but one thing about a broiling hot sun, you can never make up everything you've lost.

We well remember that summer when we boiled in our own juices. I mean, really, how could we ever forget such a pitiful summer? Such trips, hopefully, are a once-in-a-lifetime affair. But, if things don’t change soon, this could be another scorcher, and as I grow older, my appetite for heat vanishes.

I wouldn’t mind a foot of snow about now.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

When big-water salmon disappear

These two anglers with a big salmon catch. A great fishing day!
photo courtesy Dave Richey Outdoors ©2012

These two anglers with a big salmon catch. A great fishing day!

It seems to happen almost every summer. There comes a period of a week or so when the salmon fishing slows down or seems to stop altogether.

Who knows why it happens. That part is not as important as knowing that it will occur. The major question is when it will happen. Salmon fishing has been hot up and down Lake Michigan.

Obviously, on any given day, a person or boat filled with people can get skunked or have a very poor showing. That part never bothers me now because fishing is just one more of many reasons to get outdoors and breathe some fresh air.

If the fish bite, that’s great. If they don’t, there will be no sad looks on my face. It is what it is, and we may not have any control over these things. Let’s not whine about it.

Forget about it, already!

However, I look at such days as an opportunity knocking on my door. It’s a day that suddenly is freed up. It allows us to change our plans.

Perhaps, weather permitting, we can arrange a fishing trip on an inland lake or stream. There are countless lakes in the Traverse City area where I can go to fish for bass, bluegills, crappies, northern pike, sunfish, trout or walleyes … just to name a few game fish species.

So what if these fish may not be as big as a lake trout or salmon? It doesn’t make any difference as long as I can find something out there that will pull my string, and make my heart do a flip-flop or two.

Mind you, years ago I would have been devastated by not catching some great huge salmon. The froth would be running from my mouth like saliva from a rabid skunk.

I’d kick the tackle box two or three times just for good measure. The problem is that outdoor writers need action and photos to produce magazine stories. No photos, no story, and no money. It’s that simple.

No unemployment for me. I could work my butt off, but hard work was no guarantee the weather would cooperate or the fish would bite or deer would move. Go for a week or two with no money coming in, and it’s enough to make a gent like me a bit testy.  I lived this life style for many years before taking a steady paying newspaper job.

Well, guess what; I’m retired now

I have been for more than nine years, and my fishing attitude has changed. There are no hard and fast rules. If I don’t get tonight’s blog done tonight, I’ll do it tomorrow and back-date it.

There was other work to be done. I was putzing around with an old Shakespeare bait-casting reel and took it in to get it  to get repaired. It needed a new handle, and the repair guy had one. Quick-like, it was done!

There is more stuff around my house that needs attention, and it’s time to find a home for some of it. I joined the Outdoor Writers Association of America in 1968, and they began sending me monthly newsletters. The paper edition continued until two years ago when OWAA went digital, and she has 34 years of the bulletin. Multiply both numbers by 12, and it amounts to lots of paper and the loss of more than a few trees.

I’ve still got them but need some room so two large plastic tubs were bought and it took both of them to handle the load. Now, they are so heavy I must partially empty them to move them into a storage unit. That would be almost a one-day operation, and my back is sore from tugging the heavy tubs around.

Someone with more time on his hands once came up with the saying: If life deals you lemons, make lemonade. There’s some sort of logic there.

To paraphrase that: If life robs you of a fishing day, find something else to do. Clean a reel, sharpen hooks until your eyes cross, put new line on reels that need it changed, and try to clean up things.

I may be insulting it by calling it a work-bench

I have what some might call a work-bench. That gives me too much credit for working or for needing a bench to work at. However, I start looking for something that often is on my work-bench, and in the process of looking, other things get placed there.

Eventually, it would take a small back-hoe to move stuff off my work-bench. So, when the opportunity presents itself with bad fishing or hunting days, I clean it off and put most of the stuff where it belongs.

Sadly, I think my home is infested with gremlins with nothing better to do than make a mess of all of my old fishing and hunting gear. I put lures back into the proper tackle boxes, strip old line off reels, and prepare them to have line added some other day.

Can’t do all of this at one time. Do that too often, and the meaning of having stuff to clean up and put away will be lost. We must be orderly, and remember what my first-grade teacher tried to pound into the minds of his six-year old students.

“There is a place for everything,” he lectured, “ and everything should be in its place.” Kind of sweeps over you, doesn’t it?

It didn’t make much sense back then, and still doesn’t. Being a pack rat means I enjoy a certain amount of clutter. It gives me something to do on rainy or windy days, and this should be things that are far more important that putting up screens or storm windows.

A wise man knows where his priorities lie.

Tags: Dave Richey, Michigan, outdoors, big-water, fishing, clean, gear, location, salmon, fish, success, skunked, Lake Michigan, away

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Find a beaver pond and protect it

The late John Voelker, a.k.a. Robert Traver, casting delicately to brookies on his beloved Frenchman's Pond
photo courtesy Dave Richey Outdoors ©2012

My several experiences fishing Frenchman's Pond with the late John Voelker, a.k.a. Robert Traver, taught me many things about fishing for brook trout.

The Bard of Frenchman's Pond always believed in a calm and delicate fly presentation, and he believed these great game fish respond best to a cautious and delicate approach.

I think of the old Judge often, especially when fishing a back-of-beyond beaver pond where getting to the thing is two-thirds of the battle. The other third revolves around finding a receptive taker. Some beaver ponds are sterile.

Follow a creek upstream and maybe you’ll find a beaver pond

Voelker once wrote that the environs where brook trout are found are invariably beautiful but much of what man has created is not, and if Judge Voelker was right about anything, it was his thoughts that Man could screw up a one-car parade.

Brook trout fishing is occasionally too easy which is why gluttons and other fools who would take a limit of fish today, return to do the same spot tomorrow, and clean up what is left on the third day, should never fish such waters because it is inherently wrong. As wrong as it is, many fishermen subscribe to the theory that if the trout are there, they are meant to be caught.

Such thinking has sounded the death knell for many once-thriving beaver ponds and small streams. The fish simply are too gullible in tiny waters to pass up any chance for a meal.

Show me a beaver pond that holds brook trout, and if the word is spread around, it no longer will be a beautiful, unsullied, fish-producing piece of wonderful water. Sadly, many people subscribe to the "Me first" attitude where the first person in to a pond deserves the spoils. It reminds me of Genghis Khan's philosophy of rape and pillage.

I've been known to park my car two miles away and hike in to a beaver pond to hide its identity and location. I once fished a tiny pond that produced some 14-inch bookies, and the hiding place for my car was between two huge white pines where the boughs obscured my vehicle. I was never found in that location.

Many little jump-across creeks that flow out of a cedar swamp are destroyed; if not by human pressure, than by the worm containers and beer cans or bottles people leave behind. Such things weigh much less when carried out empty than when carried in full.

Beaver ponds come in all shapes and sizes

I began fishing brook trout at a tender age of 11 on some tiny Michigan streams. I began by using bait, and garden hackle threaded onto a hook with one split-shot above, was all it took to catch trout in those long-ago days.

It's all that is needed to catch brookies today. The bad thing is that undersize brook trout love worms, and they will swallow the bait. Easily two-thirds of the fish caught on live bait are killed before they reach legal size.

These days, if the area being fished is too confined for fly fishing, I'll use a number 0 Mepps spinner. Two of the three hooks are cut off, and far fewer fish are hooked too deep. A treble hook simply requires too much time to remove without killing the fish.

Beaver ponds are like rare jewels that sparkle in the distance when glimpsed through heavy conifers. They are generally small and very fragile ecosystems, where the removal of too many trout will cause it to decline into a silt and marl-bottomed pond with no redeeming features.

Don’t tell anyone about a beaver pond; Keep it a personal secret

Some of the best brook trout fishing I've had came on the land of a friend's friend. The man never invited anyone in to fish except my buddy, and he would run others off with threats of calling the police.

My buddy knew that his friend had a fondness for strong drink, and whenever we showed up, a pint of whiskey would change hands. He'd make some excuse to his wife about why we were fishing the pond, and our fishing trips usually began at dark.

We'd carry in our fly rods, waders, swim fins and a belly boat. Wading the edges of that pond was a death trap. We would set off into the darkness, sitting in the belly boat, and cast flies here and there along shore. My friend usually caught the largest fish because he concentrated on the deepest water near the beaver dam.

On occasion, we would speak to each other, but for the most part we silently fished in the dark. Most of those brookies were at least 10 inches long, and we caught a few 16-inchers. We would keep one or two of the smaller fish -- if we kept any at all -- and fished that pond only once or twice a year. The pond went out in a spring freshet when snow melt and heavy rain washed out the dam.

Beaver ponds are like that. They survive between being washed out, and once they are gone, the brook trout go with them. It's while they are vibrant and still alive that they can be the things of which anglers dream of but seldom find.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Ethics: Rules to live by

Television personality Jerry McKinnis with a river salmon
photo courtesy Dave Richey Outdoors ©2012

Outdoor ethics are a bit like marriage vows. They are those hard-to-explain things that keep sportsmen from breaking fish or game laws if we think someone might be watching us.

That's fine, as far as it goes, but it's a gross oversimplification of a very complex issue. And, these issues baffle many sportsmen.

Stated another way, if you must look over your shoulder or around you before doing something, chances are you will be breaking a fish or game law. Perhaps, if you find yourself doing this bit of odd behavior, you might wish to rethink the situation.

Be aware of some ethical acts and those that are not

Outdoor ethics are those complex but unquestionable rules that sportsmen must follow whether others are watching or not. They are rules we must endorse if fishing and hunting will survive this century.

Want a few examples; Consider these

I had six chances to arrow a big 10-point a few years ago this October. He always showed up five minutes after shooting time ended. No one was within 500 yards of me, and no one would have known if I cheated and taken a late shot at that buck.

No one, that is, except me. It would have chewed at my guts like a malignant cancer until the taking of that big 10-point would have been reduced to a humiliating experience. It would have ruined my hunt.

One night last fall I climbed into my bow stand, tried to remove my wallet from my back pocket, and it wasn't there. My bow license was home on the dresser. I had a valid license but it wasn't in my immediate possession so my bow was stowed away in its case.

The evening was spent watching deer through binoculars. It was fun even without a bow in my hands.

A big problem with outdoor ethics is they are impossible to legislate and very hard to enforce. Only one person–you or me–can deal with ethical situations whenever they arise.

For instance: we shoot a rooster pheasant and it glides across a fence and falls on posted property. Does winging this bird give us the right to pursue it without landowner permission? Nope.

We're fishing in flies-only water for trout and a stiff breeze puts down the hatch. Is it ethical to fish worms here? The answer is no.

Or, as I mentioned earlier about the10-point buck, could I have cheated and shot? Sure, but I would have had to deal with my emotions and my personal sense of right, wrong and/or guilt.

It is legal to shoot a grouse on the ground but it's not ethical

Mallards pinwheel down on a freshening breeze to spill into bobbing decoys. It's a perfect morning, and five minutes before legal shooting time. Hunters in a nearby blind have shot and dropped two hen mallards. Does that make it legal for us to shoot early as well?

The answer is an obvious “No” but some hunters would shoot any way, and could be ticketed by a Federal or state conservation officer.

Ethics prevent us from doing illegal or quasi-illegal acts. Hunters don't shoot ducks on the water unless they've been wounded or shoot grouse on the ground. We don't snag fish, and we don't keep undersized fish or fish over our limit.

Know the rules; Read annual fishing-hunting digests

Buying a fishing or hunting license is no guarantee of a full game bag, a trophy buck, a hefty creel or a brace of pheasants. The license only grants us an opportunity to fish or hunt during the legal season. It offers sportsmen nothing more and nothing less.

Ethical behavior is a topic as personal as the color of our morning toothbrush. It also serves as the bare-bones foundation on which our sporting ethics are built. We are judged by our conduct, and those who wink at fish or game law violations or encourage any breach of ethical conduct, do themselves and other sportsmen a real disservice.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

From Okavango to the Plains of East Africa

This is a great new book on hunting African big game
From the Okavango to the Plains of East Africa
author: Christenson

TITLE: From the Okavango to the Plains of East Africa
(Sub-title: Hunting In Africa In The Latter Part Of The Twentieth Century)
AUTHOR: Christenson
DETAILS: 465 pages, color photos, 1st edition, hardcover, gilt titles, color photos & maps
SIZE: 7x10 inches, limited to 1,000 copies PUBLISHER: Safari Press
DISTRIBUTOR: Safari Press
[NOTE: Books are not sold in stores, and are available only from Safari Press Inc.]

CONTACT:
Safari Press
15621 Chemical Lane
Building B
Huntington Beach, CA
92649-1506

WEBSITE: Safari Press
eMAIL: info@safaripress.com
PHONE: Phone (714) 894-9080
COST: $100.00 + S/H;

Many African hunting books were published years after the events portrayed actually happened, but such is not the case here. The author began his African hunting career in 1977 with the noted and professional hunter Willie Engelbrecht In Botswana. This is a record of those hunts. In some cases, the book wasn’t written until long after an author’s death.

It was a dream come true for the author. It was one fascinating adventure after another.

First the hunter took a 10-foot maned lion from the bush country, and then a native tracker was attacked by a leopard. He took three safaris with Willie, and then he hunted with legendary PH Harry Selby.

Christenson hunted most of Africa, and received what he considered superb mentoring from other professionals such as Wally Johnson, George Angelides and others for a variety of large and small game/ His tales include elephant hunts, and trips for buffalo, leopard and lion,

Mixed in with the big game are notes from his side trips to hunter smaller game such as the Abbott duiker, sable, sitatunga, nyala. Lord Derby eland. Greater kudu, gemsbok, blue wildebeest, red lechwe, impala, oryx, wildebeest, bushbuck, zebra, klipspringer, Robert’s gazelle and others were taken on many of Christenson’s thrilling safaris.

This is a book to get lost in. It’s big, heavy and filled with anecdotes that would help anyone planning an African hunt. There is plenty of excitement, some fun, information on the native trackers and gun bearers.

Perhaps even more exciting than great color photos of elephants, lions, leopards and Cape buffalo are the color maps of the areas being hunted. Wonderful color silhouette photos reach out and grab you with their deep colors. These maps certainly set off this book in grand fashion, and they enable the reader to keep track of where the author is hunting. They fill a much-needed hole in most African books.

It’s easy to keep up with the author because he mentions hunting in various locations, and these maps help a great deal. I’ve always wondered why many African hunting books do not have maps. I wonder no longer, and project we’ll see more maps in other upcoming Safari Press books. and an African spiral-horn appears on the front cover. A gilt title, author’s name and gilt rules decorate the spine. It’s a lavish book, and certainly worthy of its price. It is one of only 1,000 copies, and is destined to become a collectible item.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Quiver: On Or Off The Bow

My buddy, Harold Knight, with a nice buck taken from a tree stand
photo courtesy Dave Richey Outdoors ©2012

This applies as well to bow hunting as anything else. Every bow hunter worthy of the name has his or her way of doing things, and often they turn out right. We all learn from the best teacher -- experience.

Bow quivers are a case in point that was brought home to me a couple of nights ago. We were watching a TV hunting show, and a woman was trying to draw and shoot at a buck with the bow quiver on. She was having trouble, and it begged the question.

Should hunters leave the quiver on the bow while sitting in a stand and shooting at a buck? Or, should they take the quiver off to minimize weight and to eliminate an unnecessary item that could easily tangle in tree limbs and mess up a shot?

 

Each person must answer this question individually; I don’t preach concepts

I'll go first, and throw my hat in the ring and voice my heartfelt opinion. I climb into a tree stand, and after attaching my full-body safety harness to the tree and my body; I sit down, and use the haul rope to raise my bow from ground level. The bow quiver is then removed and placed elsewhere on the tree after one arrow is removed. I often hang the quiver on a nearby limb where it will help break up my silhouette.

Once the quiver in hung, I unscrew the broadhead and attach my Game string behind the broadhead, and screw it into my Maxima carbon arrow shaft.

I attach the release to the string, stuff the lower limb of my C.P. Oneida Black Eagle bow into my left boot, and relax. I hunt and shoot sitting down, and my stands are positioned so bucks usually come from behind me and on my left side.

If the deer follows his normal pattern, he will approach from behind and on my left side. I'm right-handed, so when the buck comes within shooting range, and looks the other way, I start my draw and as I reach full draw, the lower limb clears the top of my boot and is clear of my leg, the stand or any tree branches.

This allows for a minimum of movement, is very quiet, and oh so effective once a hunter becomes used to it. This method of drawing a bow wouldn't be possible if my bow quiver was still attached.

The arrow shafts, vanes or even the quiver could get caught up in clothing, limbs or branches. But there is another reason why my quiver comes off my bow when I begin hunting.

It reduces the overall bow weight. Not much, mind you, but when hunting in a variety of locations, sooner or later a bow quiver is going to hang up on something. I remove all possibilities of that happening by removing it and hanging it some place where it is out of my way.

As a deer moves, it’s easier to follow the animal if the quiver is off the bow

Whenever I watch a television show, or hunt with someone who always leaves his or her quiver on the bow, it makes me wonder how many lost opportunities have occurred because of that quiver.

A bow is a one-shot piece of archery equipment. It's not like hunting with a bolt, pump or semi-automatic firearm. Unless the wind is very strong and noisy, second shots at a buck are so rare as to almost be nonexistent.

A bow quiver on a bow, doesn't speed up getting off a second shot at a deer. It is somewhat awkward to reach to the quiver, pull out another arrow, reach across the bow to nock it, and prepare to shoot again. Chances are, any self-respecting buck with heavy headgear will be long gone if you miss the first shot.

I often use my bow to help camouflage my upper body and head. I wear a facemask while hunting, and can still turn the bow inside my left boot so the handle and upper limb breaks up my silhouette. If a deer offers a shot, a simple and slow half-turn of the wrist will point the bow toward the animal as the hunter comes to full draw.

Such a movement may or may not be necessary, and that is a debatable point, but it would be impossible to do with a bow quiver attached. For me, that is a strong reason for removing the quiver.

The slight added weight of a bow quiver (even a three-arrow quiver like mine) can allow a hunter to unknowingly cant the bow to that side. Is it enough, under the pressure of a nearby buck, to throw the arrow off its intended course?

I don't know and don't care to test the theory. My preference is to shoot a bow unencumbered by a quiver. It's my thought that it just simplifies everything, reduces weight, eliminates canting, and besides ... it works for me.

Anyone willing to plead his or her case for keeping a bow quiver on a bow while hunting is encouraged to contact me. You won't change your mind, I won't change mine, but I'd love to hear your philosophy.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Protect equipment and permissions: Ask First - Always

Lock up all tree stands & other hunting equipment to prevent theft
photo courtesy Dave Richey Outdoors ©2012

My ultimate goal is to be ready for bow season by Sept. 1, and August 15 is even better. That gives my area 30-45 days to settle down before I start hunting.

My fall food plots are planted, and there is a fairly lush green growth. We need a rain bad, and last week the plots got a nourishing drink. Even more rain would be good to keep it growing.

What we don’t need is any more 90-degree weather. It’s time some cooler weather and some more rain. Nice late-summer rains would be nice.

We need some nice steady rains but don’t need a gulley washer

Deer are moving through the food plots, and after tomorrow, there will be nothing left to do but bide our time. Some long-distance scouting can be done but I don’t plan to spend any time walking through my hunting areas.

We’ve got deer spotted, trees stands are up, our coops are almost all ready, and all I need to do is spend a few hours putting chicken wire around the bottom of the coops to prevent porcupines. skunks and other critters from chewing holes in the wood.

Two ground blinds are completely checked out and set in place. The fencing around the bottom has been put in place, and the coops are locked. Are locks necessary? To my way of thinking, I’m beginning to believe my father was right.

“Locks keep honest people honest,” he used to say. “If you don’t lock things up, and exercise certain precautions, some people who are given an opportunity to steal something, someone will take advantage of it.”

I’ve had people take advantage of me when they thought that leaving coops unlocked was an open invitation to hunt my land or steal tree stands. So, in the past I’ve had people climb into my coops to hunt when I can’t get away for one reason or another. I’d find the coop doors unlatched and blowing in the breeze, a larger shooting window cut more to their liking, and a chair stolen.

Another time I spent two days fixing up tree stands. I went to one stand, and some fool had stolen the bottom two sections of the ladder stand. The seat and foot rest was still attached to the tree with a good chain and a heavy-duty lock.

This was an out-and-out theft

Now I stand the sections together, duct tape the chain to the ladder, and lock it. The cost of two good padlocks for the ladder section and another lock and chain for the seat is certainly cheaper than replacing a complete tree stand.

I once had an excellent tree stand, and located in a great spot where two deer trails merged. The deer always came from behind me and on my left side to present a perfect broadside or quartering away shot. The person who would occasionally sneak into my tree stand always left his signature behind.

He was left-handed. He would try to reposition the stand so it was easier for a left-hander to shoot from. The stand was in a cedar tree, and I had pine boughs conveniently placed to break up my outline. Those boughs were tied with twine to suit my needs.

I went to this tree early one morning, and waded into the cedar swamp and hid. My presence kept the deer from moving that morning, and right about daylight I heard brush cracking as the poacher walked to the tree.

I let him set there, and both of us could hear deer giving the area a wide berth. I snuck up behind the stand, and pulled out the two lower ladder sections. The guy looked down at me, and yelled, “What do you think you’re doing?”

I said I knew what I was doing. I was making it difficult for him to get down

He was in my tree, I was on the ground with two ladder sections, and he’s whining about how he’s going to get down. So we had us a little heart-to-heart chat.

“You’ve been hunting my stand illegally for a week or more, and we’re going to settle this now. You either agree to quit sneaking in on my leased property, and stay away from this area, or I’ll call the cops right now. It’s a long ways to the ground, and too far to jump, so either agree to stay away or I’ll press charges and wait down here until the police arrive.”

“You’ll still be up the tree when the police come. Then we will have a chat with the landowner. What’s it going to be?”

He quickly agreed that he wouldn’t come back. OK, I said “Toss me your wallet, with your driver’s license and hunting license so  I can make a few notes in case I find you’ve been hunting my spot in the future.”

He whined and carried on but I convinced him the two ladder sections wouldn’t be replaced until he complied. I added that while he was at it, he could lower down his bow on my haul rope.

I asked him if he was the one who was hunting out of my blinds. He said he just hunted the tree stand, which was obviously difficult to deny. I took notes, learned that he lived nearby, and I then threatened to walk away and leave him there.

Make it hard on trespassers and poachers. They get no sympathy from me

He gave in, complied with all my wishes, and I asked if he was going to be aggressive when he came down. I didn’t want to fight him, but I wanted him to realize the errors of his ways.

“No, no more hassles,” he said.  “I’ll leave and won’t be back.”

So that episode ended peacefully, but I’d learned my lesson as well. Ladders and tree stands are now chained together, and to chained to the tree, and I never lost anything since. Land leased for hunting carries much the same laws as ownership, and I’ve had all of trespassers and thieves to last me a lifetime.

If they don’t respond to reason, I get on the phone and call the local conservation officer or the Sheriff’s Department, and let them do their job. They get no second chances with me.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Back roads of our memories

A buck like this must be hunted properly without spooking him
photo courtesy Dave Richey Outdoors ©2012

Fishermen love their  "fishing memories," and continue going back time after time to the same old spot. Sometimes it works on deer, and sometime it doesn't, but memories often remain long after the size of the rack and the venison has disappeared.

Hunters often have the same problem. We develop a feeling for certain ground blinds or tree stands, and often this can be good. In many cases, if a particular stand was once good, it may still be good.

For three years I shared the same tree stand with a good friend. It probably produced a dozen nice bucks for us, and then it seemed to go dead. They didn't hunt it daily, and it may only have been hunted once or twice per week.

My buddy took a few nice 8-pointers there, as did I, and we still talk fondly about hunting that tree. However, as I make my rounds to study deer behavior and travel routes, it has become obvious that deer had quit moving past that tree.

That tree was on an elevated knob 15 feet above a great deer trail.

I've got several memories of favorite tree stands, and those thoughts often are built around having taken a really good buck from it or having seen a wide-racked buck nearby. In some cases, a new stand may reveal a great travel corridor than has been overlooked.

One particular stand sticks out because I had seen a heavy beamed 10-pointer there, and I noted the time he passed by. I was there the next night but he wasn't, and several deer were passed up because I didn't want to shoot a lesser buck if the big one may be nearby.

I went back to that stand periodically, and saw that buck on three occasions but he was either screened by heavy brush or just too far away. And this brings up a point: bow hunters should know what their maximum range is for making an accurate shot.

Shooting at a buck too far away usually results in a miss but a deer that is spooked by an irresponsible shot may never return. Even worse, a bad hit may be made, and that may result in a long tracking job and even then, the animal may never be found. Sportsmen must know their limitations, and strive not to exceed them.

Know your limitations and always hunt within them. Never take long shots.

Years ago, one of my favorite tree stands was in a crooked tree. If a back didn't hurt when they climbed in, it would be hurting when they climbed down. That stand, many years ago,  was positioned between a bedding area and nearby crop fields, and it produced quite a few bucks. It is no longer being hunted.

Another of my favorite locations was a dead elm, and it was located 15 yards from a hole in a fence between my land and a neighbors, and was positioned for a broadside shot once the deer came through. Many people do not realize that given the chance, a deer often prefers going through a hole in the fence rather jumping the wire.

The last time I came down out from that fence-hole stand I felt the tree shudder. I kept going and made it to the ground. The next day I drove down a wooded trail past that tree, and it was on the ground.

Hunting memories, my phrase for going back to tree stands that once produced shots at good whitetail bucks, is something that hunters do. Some of it is nostalgia, and some is to determine if that area is as good as it once was.

These memories are good for hunters. It helps us remember a stand that once led to the arrowing a nice buck, or a memorable miss, or a stand that just makes us feel good.

I'm willing to bet that all of us have such memories. A little thought can make them reappear on demand, and part of hunting's thrill is traveling down the back roads of our memories.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Avoid high temperatures, and fish at night

Hexagenia limbata (giant Michigan mayfly) produce heavy trout feeding patterns
llustration (HexMoon Glow) courtesy Les Booth ©2012

It must be something in my genes. I’m apparently wired different than most people.

Michigan has four seasons -- spring, summer, fall and winter. It’s not that I dislike summer; it’s that I hate summer!

Now, hate is a pretty nasty word when used in any form.

Sadly, I can think of no better way to sum up my feelings. Granted, I could probably find something to do after sundown, like fish for big brown trout in the
AuSable or Manistee rivers. It can help take my mind off the constant heat.

I’ve done that for many years during other brutally hot summers. It was OK, but I actively dislike that sticky feeling when I perspire too much. And, there-in lies part of my problem. I don’t perspire like most people.

Sometimes hot days produce hot fishing at night

Very little perspiration comes off my head. Nor does my underarms dampen my shirt.  It comes out in other places too delicate for a family oriented blog to discuss.

The higher the temperature, the higher my frustration level, and the more noxious insects try to bore holes in my body to suck my blood.

I’ve learned not to swat at flying insects, day or night. It moves the air, makes me even hotter than before and all the bugs whistle up their buddies to come and join the feast.

It’s at this time of year when many major fly hatches come off. The sun goes down, and insects that have spent the day maturing in stream-side foliage, decide to reproduce their kind in a mating dance over the river. It begins with a soft audible hum before becoming a full-blown hatch.

Mayflies land on nose, ears and hands, and balance delicately on the brim of my cap. I look out over the river. Clouds of insects hover over the river, and above the audible hum of thousands of insect wings, comes the sound of trout rising from narrow seams of flowing water.

There are the splashy slurps of small trout. Experienced anglers have learned to determine locations by their sound, and from that comes the knowledge of about how far away the fish is feeding, and then we extrapolate that into making a cast that positions our fly upstream from the fish. Big browns sip flies off the surface without much noise.

There is a science to locating big fish at night; You listen for them feeding

We then determine the length of time between when the trout rises to take a fly and the next time he rises to feed. We count the seconds “one-thousand-one, one-thousand-two, one-thousand-three” until he rises again.

We make our cast at the “one-thousand-two” count. This gives us a narrow window to make the cast; at the “one-thousand-two” count; and allowing that final second for the cast, and drift, of the fly over the feeding trout.

That’s the way it’s supposed to work. Often a rising trout will sip a natural insect off the surface, and by chance take one of the many that surround your fly. It doesn’t always work.

Often they ignore our offering, and anglers can switch fly patterns or sizes, and that may make a difference. Sometimes when a blanket hatch occurs, there are simply two many insects on the water. The trout can swim with their mouth open and fill their belly fast.

The odd thing about a hot night and a good hatch is we often forget about the oppressive heat. We false-cast once or twice to dry the fly, and keep trying for that one fish that continues to rise, but a blanket hatch soon puts the fish down. They’ve ate their fill, and retire to a quiet spot in the water to rest.

In the distance, a tree of heat lightning flickers across the sky, and one can easily determine its line of travel as it flickers again. Slowly, a calm settles over the water, and it’s possible to hear other night sounds.

Learn to listen for feeding fish, and to tell big fish from small ones

Owls hoot, night hawks boom, and frogs croak near shore. Suddenly, one becomes aware that the awesome heat of the day has lessened and we drift the river slowly casting dry flies or casting and stripping line fast to work a big streamer through deep holes and runs near shore. This latter method, if done on a nonstop basis, may produce a big fish but all of the effort will set you to sweating again.

One must chose their poison. I had a heat stroke once while changing a car tire, and since that time, I conveniently find something to do inside my air conditioned office.

So, if you are like me, I choose to stay in when we have three-digit temperatures occur during mid-day, and if I choose to fish at night, I wait until two hours after sun down before I head out. It may limit my catch at times, but it does allow me to fish in some semblance of comfort.

Troubled times and the written word

Dave Richey looks through book files for a certain book
photo courtesy Dave Richey Outdoors ©2012

Folks, no one needs to tell us that these are troubled times.

Many jobs are in peril. Job security is questionable or even doubtful. Many folks are out of work, and homes have been foreclosed on and lost.

Management in some areas don’t worry about the worker. Insurance rates are rising, as are prescription drugs, and many wonder how long they can hang on to their job.

Amid all these worries is the desire to fish and hunt more, and spend time outdoors. The cost of travel has skyrocketed with $3.75-per-gallon (or more) gas, and fuel prices don't show any sign of going down soon. Jobs are leaving this state daily, and billions of dollars go overseas while our workers wonder about their future.

Sportsmen want to fish and hunt more. We find it difficult to justify a trip north for a two- or three-day fishing or hunting trip because we'll easily spend $150 or more for gas, another  $100-175 for a motel for one night, add another $75-100 for food, and suddenly the
price of fishing and hunting becomes very expensive.

A wealth of knowledge is just waiting for you to discover it

What can anglers and hunters do to take the edge off their outdoor cravings. It's simple, and much like my need for a fishing or hunting fix when as a kid. If a round-the-world trip cost only $10, I couldn't get out of Clio, my hometown.

Each year I managed to squirrel away money to pay for subscriptions to Field & Stream, Outdoor Life and Sports Afield magazines. I devoured every word, and then as my meager job paid a bit more money or I took a second job, I joined the now-defunct Outdoor Life Book Club. Once a month would come a notice about an upcoming book, and if I thought I'd like it, the book would be ordered.

Mind you, being entertained in your mind through the magic of the written word and a wonderful photograph isn't quite the same as actually fishing or hunting, but it provided an escape for those of us who couldn't shake loose $200 or more for a weekend fishing or hunting trip.

Books can provide that mental escape we need to visit another world, to a place where fish bite and where big bucks are abundant. It can take us to places where big browns sip flies off the surface, where grouse and woodcock inhabit tag alder runs and dogwood thickets, to places where rooster pheasants cackle in mid-air, and a wedge of bluebills skim the tops of white-flecked waves under a pewter-grey sky.

It was an inexpensive way to escape the humdrum of an era 55 years ago when the economy was shaky. Car sales were poor, and I lived in Clio, a bedroom community north of Flint. Most people worked for General Motors in Flint, and many people were out of work.

Books carried me along on a voyage of discovery, to a place where vicariously, we fished alongside Ernie Schwiebert, listened to the tales of Robert Ruark's Old Man talking to the boy. Now, because of books, we can learn about Louis Spray and the meanderings of his life, to the Green Hills of Africa with Ernest Hemingway, to the wonderfully written books of the incomparable George Bird Evans and William H. Foster.

Some literary giants wrote fishing-hunting stories

We can read and inherit the love of hunting from the late Jack O'Connor, whose books are steadily increasing in value. O'Connor has almost as many fans now as he did 50 years ago, and his skill at writing hunting stories was legendary. He was the real thing, and not a young wanna-be outdoor writer trying to sell his wares today.

Book catalogs that deal with fishing and hunting titles are wondrous things and I get a few every month.  Name the genre, and there are books out there to fit the wallet of every sportsman. Muskie fishing and turkey hunting are my two passions, and I spend time looking for those books on these topics that I don't have or simply can't afford.

I maintain lists of books I need. Some books are author signed, and many are not. Some books I need are low-priced and common and a few are expensive. Books allow people who can't afford a fishing or hunting trip to pour themselves into a good book and come out the other side knowing they've experienced something grand and wonderful while learning something they didn't know before.

Most of you know I buy and sell fishing and hunting books. I still read, everything from a cereal box to a mystery to a nonfiction fishing or hunting book. Some people don't know what they want, and they contact me and we discuss it by email.

Books are the gift that keeps on giving. Christmas is a long way off but a good book can be read over and over again, and instead of a goofy power tie for work, take Dad’s mind off work worries with a book on a topic of interest to him. Buying gifts now removes the panic that sets in if you forget to shop.

Forget TV; Books energize the mind; eMail me for help.

Take a look at my books on Scoop's Books.  On the Landing Page, scroll down and click on Scoop's Books Catalog, and take a look around.

If you need a specific title that isn't listed, email and ask if I have it. If you are thinking of selling fishing or hunting books, contact me. I buy books all the time, and you may have what I'm looking for, especially if it is on turkey hunting.

If you need help with a certain book purchase, contact me for assistance. Reading a good book may not be quite as exciting as actually catching a fish or taking a big buck with a bow, but when travel to do these things become almost cost-prohibitive in these economic doldrums, reading about fishing and hunting beats whatever else comes in second-best.

Bears in the berry patches

A black bear feeding on summer berries is still alert to danger.
photo courtesy Dave Richey Outdoors ©2012

Several days ago, while visiting an archery shop, I heard the first reference to picking berries. The word was some early raspberries were out, but we needed more rain.

So, we had two rain showers. I don't know whether we've had enough rain to do the berries much good, but I plan to get out and check it soon. I'm thinking red and black raspberries and blueberries next month. I love them on my breakfast cereal. The larger blackberries pop out this month and next,

I love all kinds of summer berries. I can get red and black raspberries near home but have to travel to some remote locations for the others. The travel doesn't bother me, but in these remote locations there are others critters that love wild berries.

They are called black bears. Several of the areas where I pick black raspberries and blue berries are areas frequented by bears.

Two things of major important occur in July and August. We reach the point when female bears come into estrus, and male bears are cruising in search of females. Most of the breeding is done by adult boars, but  since they like berries, it's not all that unlikely that a bruin could be feeding in a berry patch.

Be aware of bear habits and habitats

Most of the time bears will go out of their way to avoid humans. However, bear cubs are much like small children who are so into having fun, they could get close to human berry pickers. Should that happen, and should the sow bear be close to cubs, it could lead to some trouble.

The easiest way to solve this problem is to make enough noise by talking as you walk through the swamps, uplands and hardwoods. Bears, especially adult animals, are always alert to the sound of humans nearby.

Given any kind of chance, bears will retreat to a more quiet area when humans are not found. They often feed on berries, wild apples, cherries and other fruit during the night, but bears do move during daylight hours. So, it means taking a load of common sense into the woods with you. Make more noise once you get near the berry patch, and look around for bears.

Pay some attention to the photo above. The bear is sitting down behind some brush as it feeds in a berry patch. The image doesn't jump right out at you, but the animal is easy to see if you are looking for a black object.

If you happen onto a feeding bear, it makes sense to move to a different berry patch where there are no bruins openly feeding on the fruit.
Make a quiet retreat, but don't running off yelling at the top of your lungs. Once well away from the area, continue to make some noise. If you go back to the berry patch, approach it with human voice talks and progress slowly. A cautious but noisy approach will usually find the bear long gone.

Continue to use common sense where moving down rows of blueberries. Bears, by nature, are rather curious animals but there is no logic and no sense in remaining silent when heading for the nearest berry patch.

Perhaps you've never seen a bruin in that patch, but that doesn't mean a bear couldn't be in there feeding. They are rather silent feeders, and make little noise when walking if they are suspicious of humans nearby.

Common sense and awareness keep men and bears out of confrontation

I've taken quite a few photos of wild bear, and don't photograph tame bears, and you've got to work pretty hard to fool an adult bruin. One other tip is to figure out where the wind is blowing to, and get in the wind with it at your back as you enter a berry patch. Having the wind at your back means a bear will smell you before it sees or hears you, and will be long gone before you get close/

Understand that no one knows everything about bears, and what is written here is written by a man who has hunted bears often, and has had a few confrontations with sows and cubs. Remember this: bears are normally docile and will move away from humans if given the chance, but black bears are more unpredictable than most of the other bear species.

Being unpredictable means you should never trust them. I've written numerous stories about some of my experiences, but don't expect bruins to always act as they have with me. This is not mean to be a frightening story, nor is it meant to keep people from finding berry patches and picking berries.

It is meant to give people a heads-up about bears that breed and feed on berries during the summer. A word to the wise should be sufficient.

Superstitious: Who, me?

Me, superstitious? Black Beauty fly rod, reddish pink hat. So what?

Many sportsmen say they aren't superstitious, but look at all the sports figures that refuse to step on the first or third-base line. Other sports stars don’t shave on the day they pitch, refuse to talk with reporters and so on. Sports are filled with such people. I think most sportsmen have a quirk or two.

Ben Wallace always seemed to wear his hair tight for one basketball game for The Detroit Pistons, and big and wide for another game. Who knows why?

Others use a certain color of toothbrush on game day while some won't talk to a reporter if they will pitch that day. The world of major league sports is filled with such idiosyncrasies. Some folks would call them superstitions.

We all know not to walk under a ladder ... but why? Then there is the black cat theory, and "step on a crack, break you mother's back" song sung by young girls playing a sidewalk game back in the day.

Some of these things border on being compulsive, obsessive or superstitious while others border on doing something based on something that happened long in the past.

Years ago, when I fished Cheboygan County's Sturgeon River, there were no beliefs based on superstition. However, steelhead were in the river, and a distant rumble of thunder rolled across the sky, it didn't matter where I was. I was on the move

A sense of timing and urgency fuel the prepared

I'd make a mad dash for the car, and head for a singular spot. This certain hole didn't look like much to me or anyone else, and most people ignored and never fished it, but by chance or luck I learned that if steelhead were in the river, and in that hole just before the rain fell, I could catch it.

Why, I have no clue. But it paid off for me so many times, that it became a ritual. If I could smell rain in the air, I headed for the Rain Hole, and sometimes would get only one cast before the rain began to fall. That one cast would hook a steelhead nine out of 10 times.

For many years, my trademark was a reddish-pink Jones-style hat that I wore. It was with me on more adventures than I can remember, and whenever I was wearing it, we'd catch fish. I decided after Kay and I were married that it looked better on her than me, and she began wearing it and my luck continued to hold even though I would switch hats. As long as one of us wore the hat, the fish bit and the game moved.

Is this coincidence? Is it luck? Or is it a figment of my imagination? Who knows or cares, because I've never tried to root out the reasons why such things work or don't work. If wearing that hat led to better catches and more photos for a full-time free-lance outdoor writer, why not wear it. Why step on the third-base line if you don't have to?

Years ago I had some skin-tight Gortex rainwear. I began wearing it in Wyoming's Big Horn Mountains while hunting mountain lion. There was a great deal of walking in deep snow, and a lot of sweating, and I wanted something that would keep me warm and dry without wearing long underwear, jeans and other clothing. It worked perfectly, and my lion was shot with a bow at six paces as it bayed up on the ground.

Head games or real; Who can say

That rainwear was like a lucky rabbit's foot for several years until I took it to Canada's Northwest Territories' Little Martin Lake for a
Central-Canada Barren Ground caribou hunt. I wore it on that hunt, killed a caribou bull that, at the time, reigned No. 9 in the world. I wouldn't give the rainwear to the guide who asked for it but I gave him a hefty tip. He happily took the money, and then helped himself to the rainwear when I wasn't looking, and then I began shopping around for something else that would work. I never found anything similar to it.

Do I consider myself superstitious? Nope, but some good things happen when certain types of equipment are used. I own a pre-1964 Winchester Model 70 in .264 Winchester Magnum with a Swarovski scope on it. I used to hand-load my own ammo for the rifle, and it can shoot straighter than I can hold it. I've killed plenty of game out to over 400 yards with that rifle, and although my  hand-loads are now made to perfection by a friend, that rifle has been with me on many fine hunts.

During my 10 years of guiding fishermen, a Shakespeare Black Beauty fiberglass fly rod was the main tool of my trade. It was a sweet rod, tough as nails, and over 10,000 (that number is correct) big browns, salmon and steelhead were landed with that rod. Several years after I quit guiding, I took an old client fishing one autumn day, and hooked a big Chinook salmon.

I heard a soft ominous creak in the rod as I led the big fish to shore, and once the king was unhooked and released, I headed for the car. My buddy asked where I was going, and I told him I had just retired my favorite fly rod. That rod now hangs in a special place of honor at home, where it is rightfully recognized as one of the most big-fish-catchin'est fly rods in history.

It's a funny thing though. I don't catch as many fish now as I did when I used that old fly rod.  But, I won’t put the blame on retirement of the rod, or bad fortune, but on my poor vision. We all need a good excuse at times, and this is the best I can come up with on short notice.

The Ugly Sisters — Carp, Catfish & Gar

R. J. Doyle (left) with a channel catfish & Lea Lawrence with carp
photos courtesy Dave Richey

“The ugly sisters” is a derogatory term often used to describe three of Michigan’s homelier rough fish, but it isn’t exactly an accurate description of the carp, catfish and long-nose gar. These fish are found in many state waters, and although they may be uglier than a junkyard dog, they offer great possibilities for summer anglers.

Of the three, only the catfish has a strong following, small as it may be. The catfish, especially channel cats, are fun to catch and provide tasty eating when served up with side dishes of French fries and cole slaw, and perhaps some baked beans as another side dish. The others offer less than tasty table fare during summer months, although the carp can be good, when smoked over hardwood coals.

Channel cats favor clean water, and many inland lakes and the Great Lakes offer an untapped potential for rod-bending excitement. I’ve had countless fun days catching those be-whiskered fish off Oscoda’s piers on Lake Huron, and in scattered inland lakes.

Channel cats can be caught by still-fishing or trolling

June and July are the best months for channel catfish, and the ones I’ve taken inhaled night crawlers rolled along the river bottom in the same manner that steelhead anglers use. The strike is light, but steady and the resulting fight will elevate an angler’s opinion of catfish. These catfish often hit lures trolled for walleyes.

Carp – now there’s a fish anglers can have fun with. They grow to huge sizes, are found in most shallow Great Lakes bays and inland lakes, and they bite readily if you fish with light tackle. They are sensitive to any resistance from a heavy sinker dragging along bottom, and the folks that consistently score use four- or six- pound mono, little or no weight and a small baited hook.

Every carp fisherman has his favorite bait, but mine include immature ovaries from tiny bluegills; night crawlers, or a dough ball made of oatmeal, molasses and one egg. Enough dough balls can be made from six ounces each of flour and molasses to last a fisherman all summer.

The bait must be fished right on bottom, and be sure the drag is loose until after the carp swims 20 or 30 feet with the bait.

Set the hook after this short run, and be prepared for a lengthy battle with plenty of splashing water. My brother once hooked a 25-pound carp on six-pound line, and he fought the fish for 75 minutes before it was landed.

Run the line through a one-eighth-ounce egg sinker, and tie in a small barrel swivel. Tie on a No, 8 or 10 bronze hook. Loosen the drag, cast the bait out and run a loop of line partway under a rubber-band on the rod handle.  Keep the reel bait open so the fish can take out line without resistance.

A big carp on light line can wear out a fisherman

Keep the line tight, and if a carp picks up the bait, the lightest tug on the line will pull the line out from under the rubber band. Let the fish take 20-30 feet of line, turn the spinning reel handle to allow the pick-up bait to close and the fish to swim off without tension on the line.

Set the hook by taking up slack line, but keep the drag fairly loose.

Some anglers wade the rocky shoals of Grand Traverse Bay with a fly rod, and cast small dark nymph patterns just ahead and to one side of cruising carp. If the fish takes the fly, be prepared for 40-60 minutes of chasing a big fish through shallow water before it can be landed on an 9-foot tapered leader with a four-pound tippet.

These fish aren’t hooked often but can  produce a good fight

Long-nose gar, or garpike as they are often called are present in many inland lakes. I used to catch them on small shiners while fishing for crappies and perch in small lakes, and I’ve taken a number while trolling cowbells and minnows for trout in inland lakes.

Casting and retrieving a 9-inch plastic worm also works at times. These fish are hard to hook, and anglers should be careful with the saw-tooth teeth when trying to unhook them. Long-nose pliers work best.

The carp, catfish and gar-pike are disgustingly sorry looking, but they are plentiful in state waters and can add spice to a weekend fishing trip.

Good looking they aren’t but good fishing they offer, and any angler that scraps with one of these ugly beauties can count on a memorable fight.

Muskie Fever’s Got Me

Lake St. Clair muskie guide Steve Van Assche with a muskie weighting between 35 and 40 pounds.
photo courtesy Steve Van Assche

Muskies have been a preferred fishing species of mine for more years than I can remember, and in many states plus Ontario and Quebec, and it’s my strong belief they are the most unpredictable, ornery, cantankerous and frustrating fresh water game fish in North America.

They hit well one day, but may then go several days before they decide to hit again. Sometimes they will follow a lure to the boat, look it over and sink out of sight with total disdain.

The result can be a bit like a baseball game. No hits, no runs, no errors, but in this case, no fish either.
Muskies are born with a nasty disposition, and they never seem to lose it.

They are finicky to an extreme, and each day the angler fishes, he believes this will be the one day he has waited all his life for. Once the day ends without a muskie or a strike, most anglers become mildly dejected. Some even quit fishing.

That soon passes as fishermen assume the philosophy: Well, maybe they will hit tomorrow. Sometimes they do but more often than not, they do not.

Muskie Fever affects different people in oddly different ways. It’s difficult for non-fishermen to understand that year after year, muskie fans will return to their favorite waters with high expectations. All they want is one legal muskie, but unless one fishes Michigan’s Lake St. Clair, that can be as lofty a goal as hitting the Lotto jackpot.

Lake St. Clair, on the Michigan-Ontario border, is the lake of choice for many catch-and-release muskie anglers. Many of these fish are caught trolling, and that’s fine. However, some anglers will stand and cast crankbaits, jerkbaits and spinnerbaits until their arm wears out.
For this latter group, catching a legal muskellunge is one of fishing’s most difficult pursuits. It’s even more difficult to catch a legal fish, but Lake St. Clair is producing some 50-inch fish. Anyone who has fished for muskies more than once know that a fish that size doesn’t come
along very often.

Stand-up casting has been my forte for many years, and I enjoy pitching a big plug or spinnerbait out, time after time, and it’s important to note a following fish can be as meaningful to some anglers as catching one.

Trolling is a terrific way to catch Lake St. Clair muskies, and I’ve had days with Captain Steve VanAssche of Harrison Township (586-783-8985) where our crew has landed over 20 muskellunge in one day. Some are smaller than legal size, some are just legal, and on occasion a fish weighing 30 or more pounds is caught. Planning ahead for a big fish is a waste of time. Put in enough hours, and you may catch a 30-pounder. Fish more often, and a 40-pounder is conceivable, and on odd occasions, some lucky angler may land a larger trophy.

The trick with trolling is using planer boards, and three lines are legal in Michigan waters while only one line per angler can be used in Ontario. Put six people aboard a boat, and you have six or 12 lines out, depending on where you fish, and it increases the odds of hooking a nice fish.

Trolling produces more fish but large fish can be caught by casting.

Muskie lures are basically large, and small ones are six inches long while large lures can be nine to 12 inches or longer. Oddly enough, Lake St. Clair produces some good fishing from the Fourth of July through October and November, depending on weather conditions. I’ve been on the lake on several occasions in truly bad weather, and it isn’t any fun.

The lake is large and shallow, and eight-foot waves are not uncommon, and the waves tend to run close together. This can lead to slow and easy trips back to the dock. The International boundary runs basically down the middle of the lake, but fishing laws are vigorously enforced on both sides of the border. It’s wise to plug in the boundary on your GPS unless you have Michigan and Ontario licenses.

There are any number of good trolling lures. The Wyle us a good plug, as are Homer LeBlanc’s Swim Whiz and other similar lures like muskie sized Rapalas.

Noted muskie angler Larry Ramsell with a 43-pounf Great Lakes muskellunge from Munuscong Bay in the Upper Peninsula.
photo courtesy Larry Ramsell

Casting anglers have a wider choice of lures. They can buzz spinnerbaits or bucktails fast over the tops of weedbeds.

Depth Raiders, sinking Rapalas, muskie sized Rebels work well, and Dardevles and Red-Eyes produce, but there are many other lures that will work.

The stand-up-and-cast angler is a glutton for self-inflicted punishment. He or she will stand, hour after hour, and make one cast after another. If a following fish is seen but doesn’t hit, they try a different lure or different color. No hits, they return every two hours in hopes of raising the fish again. Do it often enough, and a fish may hit.

They do a Figure 8 or Letter J rod-tip movement with the underwater lure at the side of the boat at the end of every cast, and once in a great while this method will produce a strike. It’s been my experience that most muskies that hit near the boat are never seen until they arrow up from bottom and slam the bucktail or other lure. It can be pretty spectacular,

My best time for catching muskies is between 10 a.m. and 2 p.m.

There are numerous good muskie lakes in Michigan for the angler that prefers to cast. Budd Lake at Harrison is a good bet, as is Skegemog Lake near Traverse City. Other lakes near Skegemog that produce the occasional muskie include Elk, Intermediate and Torch.

Lac Vieux Desert on the Michigan-Wisconsin border is a great lake and noted for its big fish. Iron Lake in Iron County produces some big fish, and Munuscong Bay in Chippewa County is another steady producer.
Indian River between Burt and Mullet lakes produces some fish. Long Lake at Traverse City produces very few muskies but those that are caught here will weigh 30 pounds or more.

Muskie fishing can be an addiction. What anglers become addicted to is not the fish as much as that heart-stopping strike, the feeling of tremendous power as a big fish strips heavy line off the reel, and the effort required to pump that hooked fish off bottom.
Sometimes the muskie will come to the boat, open his mouth, and the big lure will fall out. The fish slowly sinks from sight, and that hooks the angler again. We fish muskies, not just for the fish but for the adrenalin rush that comes when we have a solid hook-up.

The only cure for this malady is to go fishing again and again. The more time an angler spend on the water, the greater his chance for success. Muskie, slimy and ugly, grab hold of our emotions and only death or infirmity rids us of this passion.

Wading tricks to remember

A wading angler fly fishes while another swims in fast water

Water is great stuff. It's wonderful to drink, the right stuff for showers, great to wade in, fun to fish in, and a necessity when hunting ducks in the fall.

However, it is not fun to swim in at this time of year. Here's what happened.

The Betsie River has strong currents in certain locations and dark water. High water complicates things even further because it dirties up once the spring run-off occurs. Seeing bottom becomes problematic or impossible.

Certain areas can only be waded with caution. I knew two early-spawning steelhead were on a bed, and proper positioning had me in the key location to cast a wet fly. Time after time the fly passed their nose, and time and again the male and female parted to allow the intruding fly to swing past.

It may have been the 50th or 60th cast when the male separated early, moved toward the fly, and sucked it in. The hook was set and the fish jumped once. It darted upstream, and fought hard until it began to tire.

The buck steelhead, his cheeks and gill covers the color of orange-pineapple ice cream, put his broad side to the current and started drifting downstream. I was fishing a familiar area, one I knew like my backyard.

It was necessary to stick close to the bank, and with the river swollen with run-off, I knew it would be tippy-toe as the fish tugged its way downstream. The first six steps took me into waist-deep water.

"Cool," I thought. "This isn't too bad. The bottom shelves up 10 feet from here."

That 10 feet was a real treat. Five feet into it my toe bumped against a submerged log that had washed in on high water, and with the water pushing hard on my back, over I went with a mighty splash.

The strong current turned me upside down, rolled me around, sent me feet-first and then rump-first, down around the bend. The fish was still on, tugging at my rod as it was held up out of the water, but a one-armed breaststroke just wasn't cutting it. The river carried me 100 yards around the bend, and as I came to a shallow gravel bar, I heaved my rod up on shore.

My waders were filled with water, and the current ground me into the gravel bar, and finally I was able to get to my hands and knees and crawl across the gravel to shore where I floundered like a beached whale. I grabbed a sapling, pulled myself to my feet, and bent over to dump some water from my waders.

My butt plunked onto the bank as I pulled my waders down and then off, and emptied them back into the river. The temperature was in the mid-20s with a 10 mph breeze, and I had to get my rod and head for the car. Shivering had set in.

My rod was pulled from the brush, and as I reeled in my line, the rod suddenly came alive in my hands. One hundred yards downstream the steelhead bolted into the air, flipped its tail like a farewell wave, and we came undone.

There was a steep hill to climb, and as I reached my car another angler stopped to ask about the fishing. He then noticed I was soaking wet.

"Fall in?" he asked. Here was a man with a magnificent grasp of the obvious.

"Nope," I said, "a big steelhead took me water skiing. The problem was he couldn't pull quite hard enough to keep me up on top. He got away, and all I got was a short but wet and wild ride down the river."

It had been a neat experience. Mind you, it's not one I wish to try again anytime soon, but one that has carved a special niche in my memory.

Some wading tips

1. Fasten waders tight, and a raincoat over the waders, and cinch a belt tight around your waist and over top of the raincoat and waders. This will keep most of water out of your waders.
2. Wear a manually inflatable life preserver.
3. Wear the proper sole for the bottom contour being waded. It could be clears or felt soles.
4. Wading a stream isn’t like walking down a sidewalk. Shuffle one foot and then the other, and turn sideways to the current. If you turn your back to the full force of the water, it will push you over in the current.
5. Use a wading staff if necessary. I have back and leg problems from earlier injuries, and a wading staff if helpful to me.
6. Read the water ahead of you, and learn your wading capabilities. A fast-water rapids, with large boulders or rocks, and when coupled with very strong current, can be a formidable challenge. If you fall, you’ll be out-of-control, and if you hit your head, you could drown.
7. Look ahead and study the water. Look for a clay or sand bottom, and avoid both if possible. Get too deep in the water, and sand will wash out from under your feet. Get on clay in deep water, and the current push down the slippery surface.
8. Should fall in, and lose your balance, don’t panic. Try swimming, and if possible, throw the rod and reel into the brush. If that is impossible, throw the rod and reel away from you to prevent becoming entangled in the line. And then swim as if your life depends on it, which it may.
9. If you are thrust onto a gravel bar, try to keep the current from pushing you off the bar. Try to get to your feet.
10. Remember, above all else, keep your wits about you and do not panic. To do so may lead to death. Remain calm.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors