A lifetime of steelhead fishing

A buck steelhead hovering over a spring spawning bed
photo c. Dave Richey Outdoors ©2012

A friend stopped by the other day with a buddy of his. The other gent wanted to meet me, and have a discussion about steelhead fishing.

It began mildly enough when we shook hands, and we made small talk for a few minutes. Then, in a burst of what seemed like pent-up anger, he questioned me about my steelhead fishing.

"You've written that you have caught 100 steelhead in one day, and another time you wrote that you'd probably landed nearly 10,000 steelhead in your life," he said. "I think both statements are a crock. No one can catch that many steelhead these days."

Mind you, this dude was a guest in my home. I didn't take kindly to his ranting insults, and that I might be lying.

I agree that he was probably right. It would be most difficult, if not impossible, these days to catch 1,000 steelhead in a lifetime. I also added that he must have missed something from both stories he had read. I learned long ago that people read what they want to read into a story, and then want to argue their mistakes when they are wrong.

"First of all, Bud, I wrote that two of us caught 100 steelhead in one day, and will gladly introduce you to the other man who has a much shorter fuse than mine," I said in an even voice. "Call him or me a liar, and you'll find a rocky time ahead."

"But ... but," he stammered. And I then told him it's not polite to interrupt someone when they are speaking. He quickly shut up.

I explained that the 100-fish day happened over 25 years ago, on a cold and snowy day with lots of wind, and most steelhead fishermen were home or working. We happened to find a big school of fish, and it seemed as none had eaten in a month. Every orange-colored fly we pitched to them resulted in a strike.

We quit fishing once with nearly 60 fish that we had caught and released unharmed. We went for breakfast, checked another stream, and headed back to the hotspot for a second round. We were up to about 85 fish when my buddy fell, got soaking wet and headed for the car and some welcome heat.

I envied him but there were more fish to hook

I stuck with it, caught what it took to hit 100 fish, and kept only one small male steelie that inhaled a fly through his mouth and was hooked in the gills from the inside. The fish was bleeding heavily and would die so I kept it.

And then, catching approximately 10,000 steelhead. I'm 73 now, and began steelhead fishing at age 11. By the time I was 15, I was catching between 100 and 200 steelies each year, and that was from the Sturgeon River between Indian River and Wolverine. Mind you, that was back in the early to mid-1950s.

By the time I was 18 in 1957, I was fishing even more often, and the fish numbers shot up to about 300 steelhead per year. Some of those fish were caught during a "temperature run" caused by Burt Lake fish seeking comfort in the cooler river water. Competition? There wasn't any.

By my mid-20s, I was fishing steelhead along the Lake Michigan shoreline. Favorite streams were the Betsie, Little Manistee and Platte rivers, and those rivers held lots of fish and very few anglers.

It was really amazing, and seldom would I keep a fish. I would have six or eight 30-fish days each year, and always put the fish back. A quick, hard fight, and a swift release and no harm to the fish.

I began guiding salmon and steelhead fishermen in 1967 when the spawning runs first began, and my clients cared nothing about steelhead. Everyone wanted salmon, so I'd give them lessons and once they learned how to cast, I'd "go check for other hot-spots." I always carried my Black Beauty fly rod, and I always looked for steelhead holding downstream of spawning salmon where they gobbled free-drifting salmon eggs.

Those fish were always caught and released, and I'd return often to check on my people and lead them to new batches of salmon. I guided for 10 years, spring and fall, and not once did my clients go home without a limit of fish. Not only was I the first fly-fishing wading guide in the state for anadromous browns, salmon and steelhead, but I pioneered this fishing and developed many of the tactics in common use today.

Whenever I had a free day, I would check rivers to keep track of the runs, and the best way to do that was to fish. There were countless days, especially in November and December when the rivers were full of steelhead and everyone else was deer hunting, working or at home, close to some heat. Those months can be brutal on a steelhead stream.

I could easily say I personally landed 400 to 500 steelhead each year during my guiding years, which would mean 4,000 to 5,000 fish during those 10 years. One also must remember the limit back then was five fish daily, and seldom a day passed without catching a limit. Again, perhaps 99 percent of those fish were released.

Steelhead laying on a spawning bed
photo c. Dave Richey Outdoors ©2012

Fish only for male fish

One also must remember that the big push by the Michigan Steelheader’s group really didn't get underway until the mid-1970s. Back then, people who had caught three or four steelhead in a lifetime were introducing their friends to the sport.

High steelhead numbers held through the early 1980s, and although I no longer was guiding, I was still fishing hard in the spring and fall. It was great: I'd fish for steelhead in the morning, and bow hunt for whitetails in the afternoon and early evening. It was great fun.

Do I know precisely how many steelhead I've landed? It was well over 8,000 steelhead by 1976 when I quit guiding. I know I've caught well over 2,000 fish since then, and if it hasn't reached 10,000 by now, I'd be very surprised.

I'd consider myself a fish hog and poacher if I'd kept everything I caught, but nearly all fish were released after a fast, spirited fight. Most spring steelhead are soft-fleshed and not tasty, and they don't freeze well. I only fished for male steelies in the spring, and never bothered fishing for the females. I avoided hooking the hens.

Nowadays, with my vision problems, I don't fish steelies as hard or nearly as often as I once did, and that is a good thing. Bowlers become expert by rolling 20 games or more each week, and steelhead fishermen become better anglers by fishing daily.

I courteously ushered the head-shaking gent to the door and on his way. I don't know if he believed any of this or not, and it really doesn't matter. All I know is that for many years the numbers of river steelhead far outnumbered the anglers who were qualified to fish for and catch them.

Those who could, did. Those who couldn't, bad-mouthed the hot sticks. There's nothing new about jealousy among anglers.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Winter archery makes us better shots

Indoor archery shooting gives hunters practice all year

Many people from all over the state have told me they shoot in an archery league to stay sharp during the winter. Others have developed other rather ingenious ways to conduct winter practice.

The primary function is to shoot enough to pick up the bow, draw, aim and shoot without feeling any discomfort. Stay away from shooting of any kind for a month or more, and the bow often feels a bit heavy or uncomfortable in your hands. The trick is to stay comfortable with a bow all winter.

My basement has a 25-yard archery range in it. I can shoot every day if the mood moves me, which it often does.

This allows me to shoot all winter 

Shooting a few arrows makes the bow feel five pounds heavier than it really is, and the back and shoulder muscles get sore easily. Shooting is the best cure for any of these problems, and it makes accurate shooting much easier.

If a person just has no place to shoot, they can still draw their bow and develop some strength training. Here are several examples of things one can do during winter months to stay comfortable drawing a bow.

A buddy does his shooting out in his cavernous garage. A target is set up at one end of the garage, and he can shoot at distances from 15 to 25 yards. Of course, on a bitter cold day, five or six shots is about all he can handle. He needs a small wood stove inside to make shooting warmer and more fun.

Another friend has a 17-yard archery range in his basement. He is talking about cutting a hole in the wall which would allow him to shoot at 25 yards, and it would more closely simulate shooting from an enclosed hunting blind.

Practice at shooting while sitting or standing 

He practices standing up and sitting down while shooting, and this is good. As a rule, he normally shoots while sitting. He can don some fairly heavy clothing similar to what he would wear for December hunts or he can wear lighter clothing to simulate shooting in October.

Still another gent I know does shoot some, but he walks around his house, comes to full draw, centers the sights on the nearest light bulb, telephone or drawer pull, and he finds it is excellent practice. Of course, he doesn't release the string, as in a shot.

Most people when they draw on a deer have to fiddle around a bit to get their sight pin on target. All of that uses up time, and if the buck is walking away, it makes people hurry. When they hurry, they usually make a mistake and take a bad shot or miss entirely.

Not this guy. He practices all winter drawing an empty bow and concentrating on putting the sight where he wants the arrow to go. He works hard at it, and when he is shooting he will do the same thing with an arrow on the string. The bow comes up and back, and the arrow is on its way. This only comes from perfect practice.

Look at your situation and determine what you can do 

Such practice makes target acquisition quick and easy. He always nails his anchor point, and if he is on his anchor point and the sight is on the target, a twitch of the finger on a release sends the arrow downrange to where he wants it to go.

Practice can take many forms, but it's important to become somewhat committed to handling your bow during the winter months. I shoot as often as possible, as I follow my no-nonsense method of drawing, achieving my anchor point, aiming and shooting.

It gives me the daily practice that I need, and the result is that when it comes time to shoot a deer during bow season, I am ready. My muscles are tuned up, my eyes are sharp, and when I hit my anchor point, a slight adjustment tweaks my aim and the arrow is gone.

Many hunters wait until two or three weeks before the season opens, to start practicing. It's better than nothing, but the people who are the finest shots practice shooting on a regular basis.

Their muscles are all peaked out at a comfortable draw weight, and their eyes automatically center on the aiming point, and all it takes is to touch the trigger, and the arrow goes where it should. It's simple.

That's why good hunters practice all winter.

Back of beyond brookies

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 and hold no fish.

*One man’s thoughts on brook trout …..

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 without really trying hard.

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.

*Hide-outs for fishing cars …..

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 from anyone looking for a car to find a hotspot. 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.

*An early start …..

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 in some areas.

These days, if the area being fished is too confined for fly fishing, I'll use a number 0 Mepps Aglia 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.

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.

*Bribing the gatekeeper …..

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. It never recovered.

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

More To Hunting Than Killing

It's become something of a habit for me. Once the fall hunting season heads into its second month, there's a good chance that once a day I'll remember another hunt from the past where a big buck was taken or an opportunity was lost for one reason or another.

It's this ability to recall past hunts, successful or not, that allow us to wallow through nine months of not hunting deer with a bow. It's rather easy to look at one of the big bucks on my wall, relax, kick back, and dredge up a fond memory or two to help me through the day.

There was a big buck running around my hunting area several years ago, and he was as regular as a dish of prunes. The problem was he was back in thick cover, and would eventually leave it. Each time he stepped out, he was in a slightly different location than days before.

 Hunting a very good buck

All too often he was just a bit too far away for a clean shot, and shooting that 10-pointer wouldn't have been easy. My decision to wait until he exited the tag alders within 20 yards was an easy one to make because I couldn't and wouldn't take a bad shot.

Day after day I'd see him. Sometimes he was close but 10 feet back in the tags, and the next day he would be 65 yards away. I believe he bedded in those alders, and moved around a bit  each day. Deer don't always bed down in the same location, and this guy championed the art of bedding and exiting tags in a different spot from day to day.

This buck was a tempting rascal but I'd hunt other blinds to avoid becoming patterned at this nearby spot. I was always downwind of him, but it was always just before shooting time ended when he stepped out. I felt he occasionally would make his move a little earlier, and it was a matter of being there when he did. Hopefully, his move would let him step out, and take several steps that may put him within range.

Once I saw his high and wide rack, all glistening white, coming through the tag alders. If he stayed his course, he would come out only 18 yards away and in a perfect location for a good shot.

Looking for a shot

His head swiveled  back and forth as he tested the wind, studied the nearby terrain that day, and his ears were cocking forward and to each side in hopes of getting an early warning of possible danger. He was 4 1/2 years old, and had had many opportunities to practice his moves before coming out to feed.

He kept coming at a very slow pace. There was no hurry-up in this guy. Each move was a well managed lesson in tactical survival. He'd take a step, stop, stand motionless for a minute or two, and then take another cautious step or two.

The buck would hold his head high, lower it to change the angle of his gaze, and move again. He had all the patience of a stalking alley cat, and moved as if he was ready to bolt at any second. Bolting wasn't what I wanted him to do, but sometimes these things happen.

Suddenly he stopped, and gazed hard at something nearby. A big mature doe had walked out of the brush on the other side of my stand, and was standing there, watching the buck. Live decoys like this doe that had appeared out of nowhere can be a good thing. As long as she doesn't spook, he may come closer.

The buck was upwind of me and the doe, and she wasn't going to walk over and introduce herself, so the only course of action was for the buck to move toward her. He made a slow approach, and my arrow was nocked on the bow string, and my Gator Jaw release was attached.

She turned as if to leave, and the buck moved quickly to intercept her. The buck popped out of the tags like a jack-in-the-box, and after many sightings, there he was 20 yards away.

The moment of truth

I let him move slightly, and offer a quartering-away shot. My sight was nestled low behind his front shoulder, and as that leg moved forward for another step, I laid my finger on the release trigger.

The buck moved right at that instant, turning away, and such low percentage shots seldom produce. I waited for him to turn and offer a quartering-away shot, but the doe walked over to him and they walked away like two old lovers walking side-bt-side down the street. It had been a close call, but the buck had won another round.

There is a great deal of satisfaction in hunting one specific buck, and having everything eventually work out or fall apart because of a doe's action. I've hunted numerous bucks where great planning just didn't work, and that is why they call this hunting, not killing.

If we were to succeed every time we hunted, bow hunting would soon cease to hold any appeal. The challenge of hunting one buck to the exclusion of all others is what works for me, even if an entire season passes without a shot.

More To Hunting Than Killing ((Dave Richey, Michigan, Outdoors, alders, appeal, bow, buck, doe, kill, memories, past hunts, release))

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

More To Hunting Than Killing

It's become something of a habit for me. Once the fall hunting season heads into its second month, there's a good chance that once a day I'll remember another hunt from the past where a big buck was taken or an opportunity was lost for one reason or another.

It's this ability to recall past hunts, successful or not, that allow us to wallow through nine months of not hunting deer with a bow. It's rather easy to look at one of the big bucks on my wall, relax, kick back, and dredge up a fond memory or two to help me through the day.

There was a big buck running around my hunting area several years ago, and he was as regular as a dish of prunes. The problem was he was back in thick cover, and would eventually leave it. Each time he stepped out, he was in a slightly different location than days before.

 Hunting a very good buck

All too often he was just a bit too far away for a clean shot, and shooting that 10-pointer wouldn't have been easy. My decision to wait until he exited the tag alders within 20 yards was an easy one to make because I couldn't and wouldn't take a bad shot.

Day after day I'd see him. Sometimes he was close but 10 feet back in the tags, and the next day he would be 65 yards away. I believe he bedded in those alders, and moved around a bit  each day. Deer don't always bed down in the same location, and this guy championed the art of bedding and exiting tags in a different spot from day to day.

This buck was a tempting rascal but I'd hunt other blinds to avoid becoming patterned at this nearby spot. I was always downwind of him, but it was always just before shooting time ended when he stepped out. I felt he occasionally would make his move a little earlier, and it was a matter of being there when he did. Hopefully, his move would let him step out, and take several steps that may put him within range.

Once I saw his high and wide rack, all glistening white, coming through the tag alders. If he stayed his course, he would come out only 18 yards away and in a perfect location for a good shot.

Looking for a shot

His head swiveled  back and forth as he tested the wind, studied the nearby terrain that day, and his ears were cocking forward and to each side in hopes of getting an early warning of possible danger. He was 4 1/2 years old, and had had many opportunities to practice his moves before coming out to feed.

He kept coming at a very slow pace. There was no hurry-up in this guy. Each move was a well managed lesson in tactical survival. He'd take a step, stop, stand motionless for a minute or two, and then take another cautious step or two.

The buck would hold his head high, lower it to change the angle of his gaze, and move again. He had all the patience of a stalking alley cat, and moved as if he was ready to bolt at any second. Bolting wasn't what I wanted him to do, but sometimes these things happen.

Suddenly he stopped, and gazed hard at something nearby. A big mature doe had walked out of the brush on the other side of my stand, and was standing there, watching the buck. Live decoys like this doe that had appeared out of nowhere can be a good thing. As long as she doesn't spook, he may come closer.

The buck was upwind of me and the doe, and she wasn't going to walk over and introduce herself, so the only course of action was for the buck to move toward her. He made a slow approach, and my arrow was nocked on the bow string, and my Gator Jaw release was attached.

She turned as if to leave, and the buck moved quickly to intercept her. The buck popped out of the tags like a jack-in-the-box, and after many sightings, there he was 20 yards away.

The moment of truth

I let him move slightly, and offer a quartering-away shot. My sight was nestled low behind his front shoulder, and as that leg moved forward for another step, I laid my finger on the release trigger.

The buck moved right at that instant, turning away, and such low percentage shots seldom produce. I waited for him to turn and offer a quartering-away shot, but the doe walked over to him and they walked away like two old lovers walking side-bt-side down the street. It had been a close call, but the buck had won another round.

There is a great deal of satisfaction in hunting one specific buck, and having everything eventually work out or fall apart because of a doe's action. I've hunted numerous bucks where great planning just didn't work, and that is why they call this hunting, not killing.

If we were to succeed every time we hunted, bow hunting would soon cease to hold any appeal. The challenge of hunting one buck to the exclusion of all others is what works for me, even if an entire season passes without a shot.

((tag: Dave Richey, Michigan, Outdoors, alders, appeal, bow, buck, doe, kill, memories, past hunts, release))

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors