Caribou: A Wilderness Spectacle.

One of the most fascinating things about northern Quebec is how many lakes and rivers there are, and how few people inhabit the region. Some Montaignais Indians and a small group of Inuit from the sub-Arctic coast, and that's it for thousands of square miles of bush country.

My first Quebec-Labrador caribou hunt took place in 1971, and it left much to be desired. I saw two caribou, dropped the only bull with one shot, and that was it. The Indians raided the booze supply of the only other hunters, and the whooped all night and none wanted to guide hunters in the morning.

My next hunt was in 1974, and it was far different than my first outing. It was on the George River, north of Schefferville, Quebec, and near the Torngat Mountains along Quebec's remote border with Labrador. My Montaignais Indian guide, Peter Wanish, spoke very little pidgin English, a bit of French, but we managed to communicate with hand signals and a few spoken words.

We headed upstream through a series of rapids above Wedge Hills Lodge, and the sky was the color of soft putty. A cold wind blew down out of the north, and we came to an area where the mighty river narrowed. My compound bow was ready, and we took up a position 10 feet uphill from the river bank as we kneeled behind some low-growing trees. We were near the edge of the tree-line, and our meager cover would have to do. The canoe had been pulled up on shore and hid.

Dave Richey with a Boone & Crockett Quebec-Labrador bull taken with a bow.

The weather turned colder, and then it began to snow. An hour later there was 12 inches of snow, and my Bushnell spotting scope was trained on the opposite shore a quarter-mile away. It wasn't needed.

Wanish muttered a guttural "Caribou!" and lifted his finger just off his lap and pointed. Caribou were filtering down toward the river, and stood there looking across. We didn't move, and the caribou stood at the waters edge, and more caribou began to pile up behind them.

The snow gained in intensity, and much of the time the animals could not be seen. And then, a stray gust of wind would flatten out the snow, and through the gauze-like haze of huge snow flakes, we would see them increasing in numbers on the opposite shore. I lifted my Bushnell  binoculars, and when next the snow cleared, there was a steady string of 'bou filtering down through the few trees off the hillside, and the animals just kept coming.

After many hunts, and having taken 28 caribou, I'm convinced only three things make caribou move. Cold temperatures, heavy snow fall and because the animals decide to do so. Cold and snow are the two things hunters can depend on.

We watched the animals pile up on the opposite side of the river, and then Wanish grunted. "Caribou. In water."

He looked at me, signaled for me to get up on one knee and get ready for a shot. He motioned me to stay behind our skimpy shoreline cover.

The caribou just kept coming in waves of jostling bodies and moving antlers.

I looked across the river, and at least 1,000 caribou were in the water. Their heads were sweeping our shoreline, their antlers interlocking with those of other bulls, and on they came as we remained motionless.

They would disappear from sight through the thick snow, and then we'd see them again. The current was strong but the caribou are strong swimmers, and their hollow hair serves as insulation and they seem to bob like a cork on the water.

Once they were within 100 yards of us, they became more visible. A big white-maned bull with long main beams, good mass on top, good bez tines and a double shovel was clearly the largest one that would make landfall near us.

My attention remained riveted on that bull, and as he reached shallow water, he lurched slowly up near shore. Dozens of caribou had already walked past us, and we were just downwind of them. They climbed the hill behind us and disappeared.

The bull stepped ashore, stood on the sand and rocks, shook himself like a Labrador retriever shaking himself off after retrieving a duck, turned broadside, and I came to a full draw. Aiming, I had to wait for a cow to pass in front of me, and then made a smooth release on the big bull.

One close shot and the big double-shovel bull went down.

The arrow disappeared behind the near-side front shoulder, and the animal stood there for several moments, started up the hill and fell. From shot placement to death took less than five seconds. It didn't bother the other 'bou that continued to filter past, and they just passed by his position on either side, and for 15 minutes it was a steady parade of caribou walking past, their ankle bones clicking with an audible sound that can be heard for a short distance.

That bull was mounted but his rack has never been scored, and years later, I had another bull scored that was slightly smaller, and it made it into the Boone & Crockett record books. This animal is a bit wider, a bit higher, and has more scorable points than the other rack.

One day, that caribou may get scored but each time I look at him, all I see in my mind's eye is a huge snow fall, strong winds, and a massive caribou migration that put 2,000 to 3,000 animals past us that day.

Memories of other hunts may be forgotten but I'll never forget my first big bull with a bow, on a lonely northern Quebec wind-swept river, when the snow fell and the caribou just kept coming. It was a wilderness spectacle that  has stayed with me  for many years, and my memories will never go away.

020710_droblog_Caribou:AWildernessSpectacle_((tag: bow, caribou, close, Dave Richey, George River, hunting, Michigan, outdoors, Quebec, waves of antlers))

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

What Outdoor Writing Means To Me

My first magazine article was hammered out on an old Royal manual typewriter in October 1967, and was sold to Sports Afield that fall. The story with photos appeared in 1968.

Between the first and the sixth magazine articles was a steady stream of success stories. Everything I wrote was sold to a paying magazine, and two of my six pieces went to Sports Afield magazine.

I've been at it since, and have written scads of stuff: 7,300+ magazine articles, 25 fishing or hunting books, 14,000 newspaper articles and columns, and I did a radio show for several months some years ago. I sold thousands of b/w and color photos here and there, and spoke to large and small audiences as a platform or seminar speaker.

And then, I began writing internet articles on my website. This has led to the publication of nearly 6,000 articles over six-plus years.

I love the outdoors and writing about it.

Do I enjoy writing and photography? I love it; it is the best job in the world, and nothing makes me happier than to help educate anglers and hunters to this outdoor world that we enjoy so much.

I write some of the how-to stuff, and everyone else in the outdoor writing game has to write some as well. I also write some where-to stuff for the same reason, but I'm a firm believer that part of my calling is to write why-to stories.

People need to read why we fish or why we hunt. People, judging by the fact that readers have hit my website at the rate of 550,000+ times a month, means they enjoy the why-to. New sportsmen must learn why ducks circle into the wind; why low-lying wet spots in the middle of a cornfield are so important to Canada geese and mallards; why cottontails run a tighter circle and snowshoe hares make an elongated oval; and why trout have different rise-forms ... plus so much more.

Outdoor writers have a continuing obligation to inform, but we have no obligation to lead our readers by the hand to a small pothole lake brimming with 5-pound bass that would easily be fished out in a week if publicized. We have an obligation to help protect our natural resources rather than to take a do-nothing approach that could cause catastrophic harm.

We must be willing advocates of our sport, and help make these great pastimes of fishing and hunting even more respectable than they already are. We've made great strides in pointing out that poaching is wrong, but it takes far more effort to inform our readers why it is bad.

I once was chosen for Michigan top conservation award -- the Ben East Award for Conservation Journalism -- for a 13-part newspaper series on profit poaching. It led to a couple of attempts and several threats on my life, but I kept hammering away at those who poach.

Writing anti-poaching articles brought threats to my life.

We need to work hard, you and me, to mentor children and adults just getting into fishing or hunting. A new hunter who gets lashed up with a person who winks at our fish and game laws, shoots game after legal shooting hours have ended, or killed more than their limit of ducks have not learned what is most needed.

They have not learned respect for the fish we try to catch or the game we hunt. Without respect, not only for other sportsmen but for the fish or game we seek, we have reduced our angling and hunting population to a point where only a limit catch or shooting a big buck is important.

Many big bucks like this are poached every year. Only you can help stop profit poaching.

The question of why we hunt or why we fish is sadly lacking in much of today's outdoor literature. People want to know the latest way to catch more walleyes or become better at deer hunting. We, as outdoor writers, must take our readers beyond the how-to and where-to, and try to teach them something about the seldom talked-about, why-to.

I had a phone call some time ago from an old friend who also is one of the most prolific outdoor writers I know. He was talking about respect, and doing something to help those outdoor writers who are no longer active. The organization he and I belong to wants to give something back to writers who helped mentor him and other budding writers.

It's a great idea. I still write, and continue to mentor writers. I've had a major hand in helping two local outdoor writers, and perhaps 50 other writers across the country, and about 10 in this state. The idea of them helping others is great, and I will also continue to help in my own way.

Giving back something for what we've taken from the outdoors.

Much of what being an outdoor writer means is giving something back for what we've enjoyed for so many years. It can be giving publicity to organizations that do good work for our lakes and streams; mentioning local hunting clubs who build wood-duck boxes; it means helping out with local Hunter Education programs, and it also means lending a hand when something need to be done.

Catching two big brook trout like this (right) may seem an impossible take. It takes luck, some skill and being in the right spot at the right time.

Just last week I paid the long dollar to become a lifetime National Rifle Association member. Mind you, I've been a dues-paying member for nearly 40 years, and now at the age of 70 I'm becoming a life member.

And I'll bet you thought this outdoor writing gig was a piece of cake. The writing and photography is reasonably easy with the proper mind-set and equipment, but the most difficult thing of all is to get through to our readers and make them think and understand, and that's one reason I enjoy writing "think-pieces."

Instead of wondering what the DNR is going to do for you this year, consider what you can do for other hunters and our natural resources. That mind-set will help our fishing, game and the environment.

And it will help all sportsman and non-sportsman in the long run.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Teasing Winter Bluegills

Bluegills have many endearing habits. Once hooked, they swim at right angles to the pull of the line and it makes them feel much larger than they really are. They also are fun to catch, and a plate offried bluegills is simply impossible to beat.

The other day was a case in point. A small lake not too far from Traverse City had eight inches of ice. I eased onto the lake, checking the ice as I went, and reached an area pockmocked with frozen holes left behind by earlier anglers.

Use a 1/32 or 1/64-ounce ice jig and fish near bottom.

A few things have been learned about catching winter bluegills, and one is to auger a bunch of holes and then let the noise settle down. Start fishing in the first hole drilled, and the reason is it's had the most time to settle down from the commotion of ice drilling.

I prefer a short soft-action spinning rod with am ultralight spinning reel with one- or two-pound test clear or green mono wound onto the reel. I like tiny ice jigs in a variety of colors. I also like a thin wire rod bobber rather than a float (bobber) because of the sensitivity of some bluegill bites.

I also use thick coiled-wire rod holders that sit on the ice. There's a big reason why this technique works.

A tiny ice jig of silver, silver-blue, silver-green, silver-orange, orange, yellow, red and white and almost any color combination will work, but if one color isn't producing fish, tie on a different color.

My rod is inserted into the heavy coiled rod holder, the jig is baited with a mousie or wax worm, and slowly lowered to bottom. The rod holder is set on the ice and jigged an inch or two and allowed to dangle in the water column for several seconds before being jigged again. If the fish are really picky, go from a 1/32 to a 1/64-ounce jig. Cut the mousie or wax worm in half to reduce the overall bulk of a bait and lure.

Mousies or wax worms make great bait.

I drill my ice holes three feet apart, and use two rodholders with a line down each hole. Watch the tiny wire bobber tied to the end of the ice rod, and if it moves a fraction of an inch, up or down, set the hook.

Some anglers go to one-pound mono because bluegills can be so finicky during winter months. Too much jigging can spook fish, and learning to spot that delicate bite when a 'gill sucks on the bait requires a bit of experience and a sharp eye on the spring bobber.

Often the hooking and landing of one fish will lead to a strike on the other line. As one fish is reeled to the surface, keep an eye on the other line. if the spring bobber moves, up or down, set that hook.

One thing some anglers don't know is that a bluegill will push the bait upward slightly, and the trick then is to lift the rod and rod holder up until the fish is felt, and then give it a soft hook set.

Bluegills will hit in one spot and then move on in search of food. Try a different hole, and if it doesn't produce a bite or a fish within 10 minutes, try another spot. Sitting in one spot and fishing just one or two holes doesn't produce as good catches as moving around does.

Tiny lures like this can hook pug-nosed bluegills.

The thing I like about these ice-rod holders is an angler can walk away from them for a minute to try a nearby hole, and if a fish hits while you are prospecting, the fish will often still be hooked when you return.

Of course, sitting on a bucket with a rod in hand will work. Anglers can still use the wire rod bobber or use a tiny bobber that floats on the water. Remember to keep jigging strokes very short (an inch or two is plenty), and don't jig too often. Too much jigging action can spook fish.

The whole jigging thing is nothing but a tease. Bait the tiny ice jig or ice fly, and move the baited lure up and down slightly, and it doesn't hurt to try to move it sideways on occasion. Shivering the lure in place can be deadly at times.

Bluegill fishing is a hoot. Fish near the edges of green weedbeds, and try to avoid exaggerated movements. Keep everything low key, quiet, use light line, prospect a bit for fish, and catching a mess of bluegills can be fun and provide some mighty fine eating.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Michigan Guide Inducted Into Fishing Hall Of Fame

Mark Rinckey, Michigan salmon and steelhead fishing guide on the Betsie and Platte rivers, received a big shock today. He learned that he had been inducted into the National Fresh Water Fishing Hall of Fame as a Legendary Guide.

The Hall of Fame is located in Hayward, Wisc., and each year it inducts some agencies and people into various categories into the Hall of Fame. Inductions this year were made in categories such as Enshrinement, Legendary Angler, Legendary Artist, Legendary Communicator, Legendary Guide, Organizational/Government and Special Recognition. The specifications for induction into the Hall of Fame as a Legendary Guide include: persons  who have gained by their expertise and professionalism, a status of credibility and immortality, judged so by their customers and/or their peers.

Anyone who is inducted into any Hall of Fame, whether baseball, basketball, fishing, football or hockey, has been chosen through a nomination and selection process that chooses people based on their skill levels and not who they are. It's impossible to buy your way into any Hall of Fame. You either have a high level of skill or you don't, and those who don't meet a serious criteria will never see their name  in a Hall of Fame. A person must meet specific criteria to be considered for induction into the National Fresh Water Fishing Hall of Fame.

"Your name will be added to this very prestigious group of 56 recognized for Legendary Guide status since its inception in 1992," said Bill Gauche, Jr., the Hall's Awards Committee Chairman. "It goes without saying this honor recognizes you for your contributions, dedication and service to the fresh water sportfishing industry. With this, your Pioneering Spirit will always be remembered."

Client Arnie Minka (left) and Mark Rinckey with a spring steelhead.

Rinckey has been a true pioneer when it comes to guiding wading anglers to salmon and steelhead in local streams. It was noted, when Rinckey's name reached the Hall of Fame's headquarters, that he was not a boating guide, but a boot-foot wading guide, that the Hall saw the real importance of him as a candidate for Legendary Guide status. Most of the 56 other Legendary Guides achieved their lofty status by taking people fishing from a boat.

That's not Rinckey's style. He prefers walking his clients into certain Lake Michigan tributaries to spots that he knows are usually good for one or both game fish species. He then instructs them on how to wade the rivers, how and where to cast to make certain the bait or lure bounces along bottom, and educates them on how to detect the often subtle strike of these fish. Once a fish is hooked, he often shows his clients how to wade downstream, following the fish, until it tires enough to be landed.

Rinckey has more than 30 successful years of guiding river anglers. In many ways, guiding on foot is much more difficult than guiding from a boat. Boat guides can work their clients into areas where most boat fishermen will never go, but year after year, Rinckey has taken people into some of his personal hotspots on these rivers. The people he guides can easily memorize how to find the location again but sometimes they forget exactly how to fish these choice spots.

"I occasionally will see someone I guided many years before and they will be fishing one of my key locations," Rinckey said. "However, they don't always have my fishing techniques down pat, and often I can come in behind them with my new clients once they leave, and we will catch the fish. I never try to hide myself on these streams, and anglers can often find me but there may have been a certain something I showed my anglers how to do that tips the scales in favor of a great catch. If I have that certain feeling that all fishermen know, I don't care if I've guided someone before. Perhaps it's my client's presentation that hooks a fish, but there often is a small difference between success and failure on a stream. Frankly, my clients seldom have a really bad day on the river.

Rinckey removes the hook from a nice client-caught steelhead (right).

"To be included with this year's selection of other legendary guides, such as Edwart Lints of New York and Shane Watson of Georgia, is a tremendous honor. This is a dream come true for any fishing guide, and I'm most grateful for this recognition."

If Rinckey sounds happy, it's because he is. Rinckey is perhaps the best steelhead guide I know. I've personally fished with him for more than 30 years, and he possesses an uncanny sense of where these migrating game fish will hold. I've stood, and watched him fish, and have seen him or his clients catch fish on a day when he is prospecting for fish. Often, he doesn't set the hook because he has a guide trip the next day. He is just looking for fish, and feels the fish that he doesn't hook will still be there for his clients.

(Left) Mark Rinckey hefts a nice Lake Michigan fish.

He practices catch-and-release fishing when he and I go out, and doesn't care if an angler catches and keeps a big fish. He will let a person keep his three-fish limit, but in his own quiet way, will offer a reason why some of the big females should be released so they can spawn and create a new generation of fish for others to catch.  Oddly enough, when he presents his case for catch-and-release to his anglers, many will listen and follow suit by putting a big fish back.

A spawn-bag hook is removed from this nice steelhead (right).

As is true with the old and famous U. S. Marines motto: Many aspire but few are chosen. This aptly describes the rigorous selection process for the Hall of Fame's Legendary Guides.

Rinckey was officially inducted into the National Fresh Water Fishing Hall of Fame on Jan. 12, 2010, and the official announcement to the media was made today. Mark will receive his Legendary Guide plaque on March 20 at the Traverse City Hunting & Fishing Expo at the Howe Arena in Traverse City at about 1 p.m. Anglers are urged to come in and meet this Legendary Guide, talk fishing and take in the show. It's not every day that one gets a chance to meet and shake hands with a true Legend from their area, and you'll find Mark Rinckey the most humble and quiet person you'll ever meet. Anyone seeking a fishing trip on the Betsie or Platte rivers this spring or fall can contact him at Mark Rinckey, 2081 Goose Road, Honor 49640. Phone (231) 325-6901 for more information or to book an unforgettable trip with a fishing legend.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Anticipation Beats Participation Every Time.

Snow-covered trees and gusty breezes greeted the dawn several days ago, and sporadic flakes fell as my John Deere snowblower threw the snow into a nearby field. Cleaning my driveway of 12 inches of mushy snow gave me nearly three hours of uninterrupted time to think.

One favorite thought came to mind. It was from a 1984 trip to the Upper Peninsula to fish the legendary Frenchman's Pond with famous author John Voelker, who wrote under the pseudonym Robert Traver. I was eager to get to the pond, and to realize a personal dream that had been gnawing at me for many years.

"The more you want something, the more you anticipate it," Voelker said, sensing my impatience as we stopped jere and there along the way to pick blueberries, chanterelle mushrooms and raspberries. "That means that Frenchman's Pond will be a bigger thrill once we get there. Anticipation of a fishing trip usually provides more joy and mystery than can be found when an angler actually fishes there."

We eventually slid down what passes for a trail to his secluded cabin on the pond. The two-track leading into it was a mix of boulders, corduroy road, rocks and sand. His battered old fish car was bouncing from side to side as he tried to keep it between the trees.

John Voelker, a.k.a. Robert Traver, signs a copy of one of his books.

Frenchman's Pond glittered like a rare jewel amid a sea of cedar and spruce. Here and there a brook trout rose to an insect, and my long-held dream had become a reality.

It was like coming home after a long absence. I was speechless with the pond's beauty, and Voelker wisely stood by quietly and allowed me to absorb the rare mood of the moment without an interruption.

Frenchman's Pond was Voelker's private retreat. He had owned it for more than 30 years when I first visited it about 25 years ago. It's location is a well-guarded secret, and the brookies are as shy and reclusive as the owner is to many people. We had traded letters, and I had interviewed him on several occasions, and it took a few years before the fishing invitation came, written on yellow legal paper in green ink.

Traver knew I wanted to fish Frenchman's Pond, but I had to wait for an invitation.

He knew I wanted to fish it, but by nature, he didn't trust many people from below the bridge, and like it or not, I had to measure up. What his standards were for admittance to the pond were unknown to me. Therefore the invitation to fish came as a major surprise.

"Why don't you c'mon up and fish Frenchman's Pond with me?" he asked. "The trout are notoriously camera-shy, but we may be able to hook one or two. Bet I can whup you in a game or two of cribbage, which he most certainly did."

An invite to fish the pond was like a special request to dine with the Pope or the Queen Mum. It wasn't something to ignore or refuse. To do so would probably have sealed my fate and kept me away from the secluded pond for all time.

I was full of questions. Would the trout rise? Which flies and sizes produced best? Any tips on fishing the pond?

His philosophy at 81 years of age came through on his first comment.

"Chances are good we won't catch a fish," he said. "And if we do get lucky or become skillful enough, as you fishing writers are wont to say, the brookies will probably be small and take only tiny dry flies.

Traver advised fishing a long and fine leader with a small fly.

"Fish a long leader tapered down to 5X or 6X, and try No. 18, 20 or 22 flies. We don't land many fish on such light tackle, but it sure is fun when we do."

We fished from casting platforms built around the pond, and I changed flies frequently. Brookies rose whenever the sun went behind a cloud but only one came to my fly. It missed or I missed, and that was it.

Voelker had several rises to his tiny flies but failed to hook up. We crouched low on the platforms to reduce our silhouette, made adequate presentations but the trout were not impressed.

"That's what I like about brook trout," Voelker said over a ritualistic sundowner of bourbon manhattans during our U.P. cribbage championship game. "Brook trout are not impressed with who or what you are, or how much money you have, but they are responsive to a gentle and quiet approach... sometimes."

It's been more than 20 years since that trip, and I returned two more times by written invitation to fish with the old master, but I would never go back even though I know where the pond nestles like a rare diamond. John Voelker fished around his last bend many years ago, and one day I may report what he told me about the frailties of old age and death's looming presence.

For now, on a cold and snowy day, I'm satisfied with remembering this colorful man of letters, writer of vibrant books on trout fishing, and masterful novels such as Anatomy Of A Murder. He taught me a valuable lesson that day, and it's one I occasionally share with others.

Some sage advice from the Old Master on fishing beaver pond brook trout.

"There is much more to fishing than catching fish," he said. "Learn to savor each day like a fine wine, listen to good music, fish often and keep few fish. Learn about life from brook trout because they are found only in cold, clean waters, and act as a barometer of our times. When brook trout disappear from our wild places, mankind won't be far behind."

Those were words that a person can live by, and now as I approach the elder statesman stage in my life, these words ring true. I find myself savoring the wild, releasing more fish, shooting fewer deer, and enjoying life to its fullest.

The good judge knew what he was talking and writing about, and he drained every last drop of goodness out of his life's adventures. I miss his sage advice, and the clever way in which he wrote good words that made people yearn for more of his books that described the magic of fly fishing for small but beautiful brook trout.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Is A Tricked-Out Bow Necessary?

I learned long ago there are several things in life that a hunter should never do. They should never criticize another man's bird dog ... even if the pooch can't hunt up his food dish or a hot meal.

We should never criticize another man's ability to shoot birds, and they never insult a man's wife. We should never discipline someone else's kid or give 'em a swat on the butt, even if they deserve it. So, barring further discussions about politics or religion, almost anything goes if handled in a tasteful manner.

So tonight I plan to touch on what can be a sore point for some bow hunters. I sometimes think too many bow hunters put too much stuff on their bow. There! How's that for opening a big can of worms?

Use a clean or tricked-out bow?

Granted, bow hunters are gadget conscious. That's OK as far as it goes, but how much is too much? Who knows, but when I see a new bow all tricked out with a peep sight, kisser button, a bow sight with six pins of different colors, big, fluffy pompoms to quiet the bow,  a spare finger to hold an arrow on the rest and an eight-arrow quiver, it makes me wonder what's up with all that stuff.

I've off on a bit of a tangent tonight, and I'm not trying to step on anyone's tender toes. I just think the fewer gadgets, the better, but if someone can shoot accurately all the time with all that stuff, good for them.

My bow has an internal red-dot sight, a removable bow quiver and a Game Tracker. I normally take the quiver off while hunting, and it works for me while some hunters always prefer  shooting with the quiver in place on the bow. That just seems to be one more thing that can get tangled up with small or large limbs while hunting from a tree

The red-dot sight, bow quiver and string tracking device is it. Some hunters have a little windage string or feather hanging down to give an indication of wind direction. The kisser button works for some people but not for me, and the peep sight is a waste of time, in my humble but subjective opinion.

This hunter prefers leaving his quiver on while hunting.

I've heard so many sad tales of people who lose track of which sight pin of the six on the bow to use, and spend too much time trying to remember as they draw their bow. Others tell me they have a tough time centering their eye through a peep sight and on the proper pin as the sun goes down. Well, peep sights come in several sizes. I've got bad eyes, and the red-dot sight works well for me when I'm not hunting for the record books.

The result often is a missed shot or a wounded deer. I'm not saying everyone should use my red-dot system, but for me, it offers one consistent aiming point. A multi-pin set-up may have as many as six pins. Under the pressure of drawing on a nice buck or other big game, who needs the distraction of trying to remember which pin is for 15, 20, 25 or 30 yards?

The choice of bow sights also is personal among bow hunters.

Not me. If my red-dot sight is dead-on at 20 yards, I know where the arrow will hit at 25 or 30 yards with this sight. The difference in where I hold at 20 to 25 yards is minute, but becomes a bit more significant at 30, 35 or 40 yards. However, with the previously mentioned eye problem, I shoot all of my deer at 10-15 yards. I have no need of shooting at longer distances.

I believe in the KISS principle: Keep It Simple, Sonny. The simpler a bow is, the fewer things there are to go wrong. Sight pin brackets can get bumped when lowering or raising a bow up or down a tree. Any twig ticking against the sight can knock it out of alignment, and an easy shot can becomes a terrible miss.

Peep sights may work OK for young people with keen vision, but many of them I've seen have much too small a hole to look through. The eye has a difficult time picking up a target as the light dims, and trying to line up a lighted pin on a deer at dusk with the peep sight on a deer becomes very difficult.

This man likes to leave his quiver on while I prefer to take my quiver off my bow. It's a matter of person preference.

Those who are happy with all of their gadgets are welcome to use them. I find them difficult, and you'd be surprised how many people try the peep sight system for a week or two, and take it off their bow.

Bow quivers were always a problem for me, even back in the days when I always hunted on the ground. It can become an even big problem when hunting from a tree. The lower  or upper limb can contact a tree branch, and not only do you miss the deer but often the bow has to be put back together. Some compound bows, especially those with recurve limbs, can raise a nasty lump on your legs if it is not moved out of the way. A twig or small branch can hang up in the quiver or the bracket, and make it nearly impossible to move the bow to take a shot. I find it much easier to take the quiver off my bow. Doing so can also remove a tiny bit of weight and prevent canting the bow.

Sometimes, the less we have to clutter up our life and our bow, the better we are. I like to keep everything simple, and it makes shooting a buck with a bow much easier.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

A Step-Up In Monitoring Snowmobile Rules

A string of snowmobiles, their headlights winking through the darkened trees, came over the crest of a hill on a groomed snowmobile trail, dipped down through a narrow fringe of trees bordering an open farm field, and then through an open stretch to visibly placed stop signs. This forced the trail riders to stop before safely crossing a Leelanau County road.

Department of Natural Resources' conservation officer, Mike Borkovich of Leelanau County, and I stood near the stop signs to check each sled for the required registration and snowmobile trail permit stickers. The trail permit sticker is required on all Michigan designated trails. The vast majority of the riders showed good common sense and a knowledge of snowmobiling rules.

Several of the riders paused long enough to tell us they appreciated our effort to keep their favorite winter pastime safe for all riders.

"Compliance with safety and trail use was excellent today," Borkovich said. "We've checked at least 200 snowmobiles so far, and have issued only one ticket to a female operator who did not have the  proper trail sticker on her sled. We issued two or three warnings, and one was for a person who strayed off the trail and traveled a short distance across a farm field. I felt a warning was sufficient, but if he had traveled any farther across the field, a ticket would have been issued."
Borkovich said he enforces the law but noted "we don't harass snowmobilers." He said he would much rather educate people than write tickets, but he will write one if someone doesn't tell him the truth. He can call in for a quick check on any person, and determine whether they have purchased a trail permit or not. If I'm told by a person that they bought a trail permit, and I call to check it out and learn the person did not tell me the truth, they get a ticket."

Mike Borkovich explains a rule to a snowmobiler.

He feels a somewhat elevated DNR presence during daylight and evening periods is necessary as a result of two major snowmobiling incidents in the past two weeks in Leelanau County. Two weeks ago, a teenager was on his sled when he was struck by the sled of an adult male who came across the top of his machine, broke the 15-year-old boy's knee in 20 places, and fled the scene of the accident, leaving the injured teen on the ground, writhing in pain.

"That accident is still under investigation," Borkovich said. "The adult male was driving a lime-green ZR800 Arctic Cat. That sled suffered damage to the left ski and possible damage to the cowling on the left side. Anyone with information about this accident can contact Borkovich at the Traverse City DNR Field Office, the Michigan State Police or the Leelanau County Sheriff's Department. "We want to talk with person as quickly as possible. The law requires that the operator of a snowmobile involved in an accident resulting in injury to, or death of, any person or property damage in an estimated amount of $100 or more, must immediately notify a law enforcement agency within the county in  which the accident occurred."

Another addicent occurred on Jan. 31 when a 19-year-old male from Hudsonville, Mich., was operating a snowmobile in Leelanau County's Solon Township, when he lost control of the sled as he crested a hill. The sled and rider crashed to the ground, and the sled caused severe injuries to the individual.

"There is no excuse for accidents like these," Borkovich said. "In the first situation, the man who crashed into the other sled, fled the scene when the injured boy's companion began calling 9-1-1 to report the accident. The Arctic Cat driver drove away and never reported the accident. In the second situation, it's possible that excessive speed may have been the cause of this accident, and that person is still hospitalized."

A trail permit is required on these trails.

He said that high speeds, use of alcohol or illegal drugs, and not using common sense are three leading causes of many snowmobile accidents. Several people have died on Michigan's snowmobile trails so far this season, but the exact number of deaths is not known. Other causes of snowmobile accidents that cause injuries or death include being struck by a a vehicle, hitting a tree or parked vehicle, breaking through the ice on a lake or river, and by simply not paying attention to their surroundings. It's important to realize that speed kills when operating a snowmobile. A person, driving too fast (which is basically over 45 miles per hour during the day or 25 miles per hour at night) can make it impossible for individuals to respond quickly enough to avoid an accident. A too-fast speed at night causes the machine to over-run the limit of its headlights, and this puts the person and the sled in danger of not being able to stop or slow down quickly enough to escape danger.

Copies of Michigan Snowmobile Regulations are available at DNR offices statewide, and in many private business that sell or service snowmobile or that sell licenses. A number of safe snowmobile riding hints include:

*Always keep your machine in top mechanical condition. A breakdown far from home or town can put sledders in a precarious situation if the weather turns nasty
*Always pay attention to trail signs, and especially signs that show a sharp curve ahead or a road or trail crossing. Follow noted speed signs, especially just before a sharp turn in the trail. Trying to navigate a sharp turn can cause the sled to turn over or the speed may seen the sled and rider up into the trees.
*Always wear insulated boots and clothes, including a helmet and gloves. It's always smart to carry a small first-aid kit on a ride.
*Never ride alone. Always ride with a friend on another snowmobile. The "buddy system" is as important to snowmobilers as it is to ice fishermen.
*Avoid, whenever possible, crossing frozen bodies of water. The ice may be thick enough for a single person but it may not support a heavy snowmobile and rider.
*Never operate in single file when crossing frozen bodies of water. Always maintain an adequate safety distance between each sled.
*Always be alert to avoid fences and low-strung wire. Never operate a snowmobile on a street or highway.

Signs like this are found along snowmobile trails, and it's in everyone's best interest, to obey them.

*Always look for depressions in the snow. The same applies to stumps or large rocks and boulders.
*At an intersection, come to a complete stop, raise up off the seat and look in both directions for oncoming traffic.
*Always check the weather before you go. Winter storm warnings are no place to be on a snowmobile. Often blizzard-like conditions reduce visibility, and there is a possibility of getting off a trail.
*Leave a travel plan and estimated time of return with a responsible individual.
*Slow down. Speed is a contributing factor in nearly all fatal accidents.
*Don't drink. Alcohol impairs judgment and slows reaction time. Make it NONE on the trail.
*Snowmobile safety education training is recommended for all first-time snowmobile operators and is required for youths 12-17 years of age.

Snowmobiles can provide many hours of wholesome family recreation when all common-sense rules are applied. However, as Borkovich has seen far too many times, speed and a lack of common sense can get people killed. That's why we were monitoring snowmobilers last Sunday, and why some people stopped long enough to thank us for spending our time in an attempt to make the sport safer for everyone.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors