Another Stepping Stone On The Path to Recovery

For anyone who has been following my blog for some time, my path to recovery has been a long and trying. What was supposed to be a two month hiatus from the outdoors that I love has turned into a long and painful voyage that has lasted over half of a year and the end is a long way off. As I write this, I am 11 days away from having surgery on my spine to try to correct what a simple four foot fall and a little gravity has done. I will be going to Beaumont Hospital where they are going to make two incisions in my lower back. They are then going to remove a small portion from three of the disks in my back, then put me back together. This will be the first major surgery I have ever had, and I have to say I am a bit frightened. But I have high hopes that this will put me on the right path back to the outdoors. While I have enjoyed all of the new video games I have been able to play, I am looking forward to the time when I can spend hours on end deep in the woods or wadding in a marsh. After I recover from this surgery, I will be going back in to have them fix the damage to my ankles. Anyways, I just thought I would give an update as to what is happening and thanks for reading!

Sometimes, It's a Long Hard Hunt

This hunting season has been very slow for me. With my injury that happened just three days before early goose season, getting out and about has been quite the chore. But it is always worth it. I have never had a hunt where I said "I wish I would have just stayed home". But, this past week, I came very close.

A friend of mine made his way up from North Carolina to do some Michigan duck hunting. He moved away from Michigan a few years back, but the waterfowl hunting out by him just isn't the same as it is here in Michigan. So, a couple of months ago he called me up and said he wanted to make a trip up here and told me to keep an eye out on the duck reports so we could have an awesome hunt. I was pumped when the time grew near.

He arrived in Michigan and took a quick power nap, then called me up for an evening hunt. He had always wanted to hunt the Holloway Reservoir, a place where he grew up fishing. I had never been there, but from what he described, it sounded like a duck haven. After a little research, I found a few forums that talked about the hunting out there, and there were a few success stories. Game on.

We got to the primitive launch site and dropped the boat in. It was pretty rocky, so we walked the boat the first 50 or so yards. After that it was smooth sailing. We reached the other side of the reservoir and found our spot, but the water level was very low. Time to test out the Mudd Buddy. We zipped across the remaining water until we got within 30 yards of where we were going to set up, then the mud changed. It went from sloppy mud to thick clay-like mud. So we got out again and pulled the rest of the way. We set up on a little point surrounded by cattails and a nice cross wind. After setting out a small spread, we brushed up the boat and got ready. everything was perfect and in place. But one thing was missing. Ducks. It was two hours before we saw our first birds, and they we a faint vision on the horizon. Every duck from then on followed the same flight path.

I was scanning the horizon when my buddy said to me "Hey. Wasn't that cinder block over there under water when we were setting decoys?". "I hope not" I replied. There was only about 30 minutes of shooting light left, so we watched to see if the water dropped any more. Then, he said he needed to use the little boys room. Now, anyone that has any experience hunting knows that the second you go to relieve yourself, whatever you are hunting will come out at that exact moment, stick out it's tongue and wave, then make it's way back out of sight. I told him that the second he stepped out of the boat, the ducks would come in. But he really had to go. Sure enough, the second his foot hit the water, a pair of woodies came in from behind. He scrambled back into the boat, but we were made and the pair got out of there. And that was the extend of our action. Last light came and our hunting was over.

But the story does not end there. Oh no, not at all. As we looked out of the boat, we noticed that more of the cinder block was indeed showing. The reservoir was being drained while we were in it. And when we stepped out of the boat, our boots hit ground and not water. It took almost 30 minutes to get the boat moved over to water that was float-able. As we made our way to our spread, we noticed that some of our decoys we actuality starting to tip because the keels were touching the bottom. Not good. Now for the trip out. Now, keep in mind that I am freshly out of a cast and am not supposed to be walking without a brace, let alone walking through a marsh dragging a boat. we wound up dragging (not floating) the boat probably around 100 yards or so. We finally reached float-able water and jumped in. We are now home free. Well not quite. We made our way back through the canals looking for our launch. But it was no where to be found. We drove up and down those canals, but just could not find it. Then it hit us. We had to drag the boat when we put it in because it was too shallow. And since the water had dropped, that canal was probably land locked. After some searching, we found another primitive boat launch and parked the boat. My friend then had a nice little walk to try to find the other boat launch and his truck. What a night. Then, to top it off, we were standing on the back of his tilt trailer to get the boat loaded and I stepped on one of the tail lights instead of the frame. The light had no chance against me and instantly broke.

All in all, I was glad to get out and hunt somewhere new. But, I was real close to saying those eight little words....

My First Regular Season Duck Hunt/MacGyver Boot

For those of you that haven't read my previous blogs, I have been down for the count since a few days before early goose season with a broken leg. I have made it out a few times but, because of other complications, I was only able to get out a few times. And it was on a pond in my buddies back yard. It was fun, but it's just not the same as actually getting out in the field.

Well, I got a call from my friend Mike and he asks if I want to head out with him and another good friend, Randy. From my reaction, anyone around must have thought that I had just gotten a call from the Lotto Commission. I quickly told him I would love to go, and he gave me a time to meet them.

I went up to my hunting closet and started to get all of my gear together. It felt too good to grab my duck jacket, my trusty auto-loader, and my blind bag to go hunting and not just to move them. But then I came across a problem. While we were going to be hunting from shore, any waterfowler will tell you that at some point, you will get wet. I am still wearing an immobilizing boot, and it will not fit in or around it. I had to make something that would not come off and would be waterproof, and not just for a bit. The weather channel was calling for rain for the rest of the day, so what ever I did had to last. But what could pull of such a feat? Duct tape? Even better. Gorilla Tape. MacGyver, eat your heart out. I made a single layer "boot" out of this stuff and it worked like a charm. It rained all day and I even took a spill at the water's edge, yet my foot was dry at the end of the night. So, add Gorilla Tape to that list of thing's to keep in the blind bag.

On to the hunt. We set up on the shoreline of a small lake that is a local favorite for ice fishing. Mike and Randy had been out squirrel hunting and noticed a good number of wood ducks on the back side of this lake, so they decided to check it out. After a little scouting, they picked out a few good blind spots, and a new hunting spot was born. After throwing out a small decoy spread, we sat back up in the weeds and began the wait. And the majority of the night was just that. Unfortunately, we were hunting a small lake that backs up to a larger lake. And on that larger lake were some over zealous duck hunters. So, most of what came by us was moving at mach 5 and on a mission. Over all it was a good spot, it was just the wrong time. And there is no such thing as a "bad time" in the blind. There are just those that you get to pull the trigger a little bit more.

Another Update

It has been some time since my last blog entry, so I figured I should put up a little update. Since the last entry, I have gotten a few new casts, putting my cast count up to eight. I guess I am a little hard on casts. I even had the nurse that put most of my casts on threaten me with a pink cast if I were to break any more. She kept true to her word. My seventh cast was neon pink, which my daughter loved.

My leg is healing wonderfully, with the only complication being that I lost most of the feeling in my left leg from the knee down. The feeling is coming back, though. The numbness is only in about half of my foot, from the middle of the foot to the toes.

I am also now out of the casts and into an immobilizing boot, which I will be in for another month or so. After that I have an appointment with a neurosurgeon to address the nerve issues. Yeah, not gonna happen. Color me old fashioned, but I just don't trust someone cutting and manipulating the nerves around my spine.

As for now, I am still pretty much out of the hunting game until I get the okay from my doctor. I was able to get out for opening day of waterfowl season. Once again, my good friend Brent came to the rescue and took me out to a blind that overlooks a pond behind his house. We didn't see a ton of birds, but I did get to pull the trigger plenty. I unfortunately shot the worst I have shot in a long time. I am going to chalk it up to the lack of practice this year.

Hopefully, I will get the okay to get out before the firearm opener here in Michigan. On a different note, if anyone has experience modifying a boot immobilizer to fit on the outside of waders, please email me.

It Feels Good to Get Out

Well, last week I got yet another new cast, and this one was going to be my salvation. I was getting a walking cast that I could actually walk on. I have had a walking cast for a while, but it was just because I kept breaking them and they needed something that could stand up to the awesome power the is me. But this one was for real. And when the doctor came in and told me, I couldn't help but grin ear to ear.

The second I got home, I started making the plan to get out. My brother in law was out hunting, so I called him to make sure that we weren't going to be hunting the same land. He told me he was actually heading in and going to grab his son, and that they would swing by and pick me up. Rock on.

So I gathered up all of my gear and waited. I felt like a kid in bed on Christmas Eve. I must have gone through my gear a dozen times while waiting. Then I heard the car pull up in the driveway. The closest thing I can use to describe my actions was they were similar to that of a dog that knows it's master just came home from work. I had completely forgot about my leg. I had not taken any pain medication as I did not want to go into the woods with a firearm while feeling those effects. But, for the moment, the pain could not have any farther from my mind.

As we are getting ready, my brother in law got a phone call. It was his work, and guess who was called in? Well, it looks like it's going to be just my nephew and myself. We can do this. So, my wonderful wife drops us off in the back of 7 Lakes State Park, and we make our way into the woods. I can feel my heart pounding to the point where I can hear it. We cross the wood line into the woods and pick out a nice log to sit on and wait. After about 25 minutes, we move to another spot. After another 25 minutes and nothing, we move again. The rest of our night went about the same. We would wait 25 minutes or so and move to the next spot, seeing the occasional hunter and a few crows. By the end of the hunt, we had made it all the way to the front of the park, and we only saw one chipmunk.

The next day, I was in more pain than I had been in for a long time. And it was more than worth it. Not only did I get a young hunter out, but I myself felt like a new hunter going out for the first time.

A Quick Update And A Realization

For those of you that have been following, I had an incident that left me with a cast that will be here for most of the hunting season, if not the entire season.

Well, I now have my third cast on. It's a walking cast that I can't walk on. Kind of a cruel joke if you ask me! But I destroyed my last cast, so that had to give me something that could survive my daily abuse. On the good side, it is healing according to plan. So, as of now, no surgery is needed. Thank God for that!

To make things easier, and to make sure that there is no movement of the bone fragments, I have been put in a wheelchair that I am using 90% of the time now. At first, I had this idea that I would be more able to head into the woods with my new wheels. Well, I had a rude awakening the other day. I went to a local carnival with my family like we do every year. And moving around on the pavement was not bad. But when my daughter wanted to go to the kids game tent, everything changed. It was on a grassy lot next to the parking lot, and let me tell you, soft ground is a whole different ballgame. Every divot became a little wall that I would have to try to maneuver over. Every little soft spot seemed like I was sinking in tar.

I have said a lot in the last few weeks how much respect I have now for those men and women that have life challenges (the majority much worse than mine, and permanent) and still get out and enjoy the wonderful gift of the outdoors that God has given us. And I don't want to sound like a broken record, but I can't help but give more praise to those men and women. I find out more every day about how hard things can be and how many things I have taken for granted.

The Hard Hunt

In my last installment, I expressed how I was feeling about my situation and how it is affecting my hunting lifestyle. Now, while I still have those feelings, I am also in awe. When it comes down to it, my plight is rather small. I have a broken leg, and nothing more. I can still move around with the use of crutches, or a wheelchair, if the going is rough. And, although I will be in this state for the majority of the hunting season, come next season (God willing), I will be healed and in tip-top shape for my hunts.

What put me in awe was a group of people that I met last year at a hunting expo that I had a booth at last year in Imlay City, Michigan. The group is called Wheelin' Team 457. Their mission statement is, “to provide the physically challenged with indoor and outdoor sports and recreation”. They also strive to spread awareness. Now, the gentlemen that I met weren't in a cast like I am. They were limited to the use of a wheelchair and two of them had slightly limited use of their arms. And they were talking about a goose hunt they had been on! We talked for a bit about what they do and hunts they had been on. You simply can't help but be inspired. These guys have the passion that hunting is really all about.
And they represent that passion. They embody the true spirit of hunting and sportsmanship.

I used to take for granted how easy it was to simply go out for a quick hunt. To know what will be involved every time you hunt, and that it will never get any easier, and still have the drive to do it time and time again is something I can only hope to have for the remainder of my days.

On a different note, I am hopefully getting a wheelchair that's big enough for me (that's a whole other story) so I can get out into the woods here in the next week. Wish me luck!

Early Season Blues

We all have our "thing". For some people it's shopping. For others, it's gambling, or alcohol, or newborn babies, or any other number of things. It's that thing you live for. The one thing that, no matter how bad things are going, will lift you up. Make you whole. For me, that one thing is waterfowling. Now, don't get me wrong. I love hunting and the outdoors. But there is just something about waterfowling that makes me whole. I would even venture to say that it borders on a religious experience.

And nothing has driven that thought home any farther than this week. If you have read my previous blog, you know that I had a mishap with a deer blind and broke my leg. So here I sit. First two days of early goose season. I should be in a blind with good friends. But I am not. And, from what they and their pictures tell me, this is the beginning of an awesome season. Mike and his group have put down more that 30 birds in the last 34 hours, one of them with a band. Now, I don't want this to sounds like I am angry. I find some comfort in knowing that they are out enjoying the sport that I love so much. But I can't help but to be jealous.

In the last 48 hours, I have felt a void that I have not felt in years, not since I started hunting. I guess it is true about what they say about "not knowing what you have until it is gone". And it's not even gone. It has simply been delayed. I know that the cast will be off by firearm deer season, so I will have some regular season waterfowling to do. And if my cast "modification" idea works, I might even be able to be in field by mid next week. But that is still a week away. A week of a two week season.

To pass the time, I have tried to read up on decoy spreads, shooting tips, and any other information I can bring up on my computer screen. If I can gain more knowledge about the sport that I am missing, the I will be all the better when I recover. But I still find my mind drifting to despair. I know you probably think this sounds like a little kid throwing a tantrum. And you would be right. That's what I feel like. Our adult lives are based on what we can control. Your entire being revolves around what you make happen, be it the littlest detail or a life altering decision. And while it was my bonehead move that put me into this predicament, I fell as if I have lost all control. Like maybe there is something I am missing. Something I can be doing to make this better. But in the end I know that I just have to be patient. When this is all said and done, there will be more seasons. This is not the end, but it sure does feel like it.

Getting Ready For Deer Season; Season is Already Over

This past weekend, I headed north with a friend of mine (and two new friends) to work on some property that we are going to be hunting this year. Now, for those of you that know me, I have never shot a deer. In fact, I have never even seen a deer while deer hunting. When I am small game hunting, I dang near trip over them, but never when I am chasing the great Whitetail.

We started off by tilling up a few small plots (maybe 1/3 acre) that had been planted with clover earlier, but he didn't remove the oak leaves before he tilled, making it very acidic. Unfortunately, about half way down the trail, the drive belt snapped on the tiller. So, the rest of the day was up to us and our trusty rakes. Fun. After the leaves were picked up, we laid down a hefty helping of lime, followed by more clover, another random blend, then some neutral fertilizer. On to the next plot.

The next one wasn't nearly as bad. No leaves here. The clover here is coming up pretty well. The problem we were having was lack of sunlight. We had to remove some trees, but which ones? The problem we faced was the types of trees we were dealing with. The majority were white oak and cedar, with a few poplar in between. The poplar can go no problem, but the white oak and cedar are two major attractants for deer. So, after careful consideration, we cut a select few, making a few funnels with the fallen trees as we go. Now it's time to cut the shooting lanes for this plot. Next to this plot is the shooting house called "the condo", mainly because of the room you have to move around, and the Lay-Z-Boy chair that has replaced the overturned bucket. Part of this trip was to install another window on the one side so you would also have a shot into the food plot about 40 yards away, as well as the on in front of the shooting house. After an hour or so of clearing, we are good to go. But just to make sure, we all pile into the shooting house to check for ourselves. And it is in the next 30 seconds that my season ended before it even started.

As everyone piles out of the shooting house and down that ladder, someone made the comment about being careful coming down the ladder. Which is always a good idea, but how bad could you really get hurt falling from this thing? The top step is only at five foot at the most. So I start to make my way down. The, the next thing I know, maybe four foot off the ground, I'm falling. I don't know how it happened, but it did. I tried to bring my legs down, but my right foot became caught in the ladder, leaving my left leg the only one to break my fall. And that it did. The second I hit the ground, I heard the "crack!" come from somewhere in my lower leg. My buddy yells, "what the hell just happened?! Did you fall?". To which another friend replies, "yeah, he did. I tried to catch him, but it happened too fast.". "Are you all right?". Not wanting to ruin the rest of the work we still had before us, I replied, "Yeah. I'm fine. I just need to move around so it doesn't get stiff. I can walk this one off". With the adrenaline and initial shock, the pain was not bad at all, so I just kept working. But after a bit, each step became harder and harder, until eventually it was too much and I had to sit the rest of the day out. The other guys worked like madmen trying to get the rest of the work done so we could get out of there, and after a couple more hours, all of the work was done. Well, everything aside from the window because Brent forgot to bring the hinges and enough OSB (I told you I wouldn't let you forget that move :)). After that, we made our way back down south, with a little side trip to drop me off at one of the local hospitals. So, I sit here writing this on opening day of early goose season with a cast that will be with me for quite some time and my broken tibia. But all is not lost yet. I'm working on an idea for and epoxy coating and Mossy Oak Duck Blind burlap for the new cast I get next week. Wish me luck...

Scouting... From Your Armchair

One of the most important pieces of the successful hunting puzzle is scouting. You can have every other aspect of your hunt down to a perfect science, but if you aren't where the game want to be, your chance of success is slim at best. And that is why every year we hit the woods and waters to observe. To try to pick up any indication of our game's everyday rituals so, when season comes, we can be in that right spot at the right time.

But where do we start? Starting is often where a lot of us have the biggest problem. Between work, family life, and many other commitments, we find it hard to go out and pick a piece of land and just start looking and even more so if you are scouting state land.

Now, there is nothing that will replace getting out into your prospective hunting areas. But you can eliminate a bit of leg work from the beginning of your scouting. And it can be done from the comfort of your home or office on a coffee break or commercial break on your favorite outdoor channel. Cyber Scouting is quickly becoming a popular form of early scouting, if not part of the norm. With programs such as Google Earth and MapQuest, You can get a good idea of the lay of the land. You can find where a field meets a a forested area, or a natural funnel in the middle of that prime deer spot. You can also see the elevation and where the good vantage points may be, along with noticeable landmarks, should you decide to check the area out further. And for those hunting state owned land, some programs show the hunting land boundaries and parking areas. Some programs also show coordinates so you can punch them into your GPS.

While this will not replace the actual footwork of getting into the woods, it will speed the process along. It can also provide that little bit of needed motivation to get out to do your scouting. I know that once I see a spot that looks prime, I want to check out the new spot so bad, it feels like waiting for Christmas morning. So pull up a chair and start scouting!

2009-10 Michigan Waterfowl Dates & Regulations

The waterfowl season is fast approaching, so its time to start making our plans on the water and in the fields. I just received this email from the Michigan DNR today, outlining this up coming season...

Michigan duck hunters will enjoy three opening days this fall as the
Natural Resources Commission set waterfowl seasons at its meeting
Thursday in Lansing.

The seasons, which were recommended by Department of Natural Resources
biologists, correspond to the recommendations of the Citizens Waterfowl
Advisory Committee, which met Aug. 8.

Duck seasons will run Sept. 26 - Nov. 20 and Nov. 26-29 in the North
Zone (Upper Peninsula), Oct. 3 - Nov. 29 and Dec. 5-6 in the Middle
Zone, and Oct. 10 - Dec. 6 and Jan. 2-3 in the South Zone.

There is an open season on canvasbacks this year as well as expanded
opportunity for scaup. The daily bag limit is six ducks to include no
more than four mallards (no more than one hen), three wood ducks, two
redheads, two scaup, one pintail, one black duck and one canvasback.

Early Canada goose season opens Sept. 1 and runs through Sept. 15
statewide, except for the Upper Peninsula and Saginaw, Tuscola and Huron
counties, where it runs through Sept. 10. The daily bag limit is five.

Regular goose seasons are Sept. 16 - Oct. 30 in the North Zone; Oct.3 -
Nov. 9 and Nov. 26 - Dec. 2 in the Middle Zone; and Oct. 10 - Nov. 12
and Nov. 26 - Dec. 6 in the South Zone, except for designated Goose
Management Units (GMU). The daily bag limit is two.

In the Saginaw County and Tuscola/Huron GMUs, the goose season is Oct.
10 - Nov. 12, Nov. 26 - Dec.6, and Jan. 2-31 with a bag limit of two.

In the Allegan County GMU, the season is Nov. 28 - Dec. 21 and Dec.
28-Jan. 17 with a bag limit of two.

In the Muskegon Waste Water GMU, the season is Oct. 13 - Nov. 14 and
Dec. 1-12 with a bag limit of two.

Elsewhere in the South Zone, the late season is Jan. 2-31 with a bag
limit of five.

Hunters may also harvest other geese during the regular and late goose
seasons in their respective zones. The bag limits are 10 snow, blue and
Ross’ geese in combination; and one white-fronted goose or one brant.

Hunters are also reminded of the Youth Waterfowl Weekend on Sept.
19-20. This hunt is statewide for licensed youths 10 to 15 years of
age. Youths must be accompanied by a parent, guardian, or someone 18
years or older. The adult will not be allowed to hunt waterfowl and is
not required to have a waterfowl hunting license. The daily limits are
the same as those allowed for the regular duck season.

To learn more about hunting opportunities in Michigan, visit the
DNR’s Web site at www.michigan.gov/dnrhunting.

My First Tukey Hunt

Some people might call me a green horn when it comes to hunting. While most people get their start in the outdoors at a young age, I did not hear the call of the wild until later in life. So, to me, some of what I experience in the woods is done so through virgin eyes. I experience the same wonderment and awe that is felt by a child on their first hunt. That is the reason I never turn down the opportunity to hunt something new. And most recently, that new thing was turkey.
And, as most of my new adventures, my good friend Mike Adams was there to show me the way. Our first morning, we make our usual stop at the golden arches, then head over to the hunting grounds. As we are getting our gear on, I hear the distance thunder of a gobble. Commence adrenaline application. Now, we are hunting in an area that I thought I knew well. Yet, as we head in, I'm already noticing new things. As we entered a large, open field, we hear the thunder again. I can feel my heart starting to beat faster. But we are a bit behind schedule, so we start to pick up the pace. As we head into the woods, we hear a few more gobbles, and we start moving even faster. At this point, we are being less than stealthy. After debating a few different spots, we settled down in front of a fallen oak tree with Mike sitting on a crook in the top of the tree and myself kneeling behind it.
That's when we heard them sound off. We had thought that we were within maybe 150 yards of their roosting tree. We were wrong. Somehow, even after all the noise we had made coming in, we had made it to within 40 yards of their roosting tree! And they were none the wiser. Mike started in on the calls and then we sat in anticipation for a second or two before they started to talk back. It was game on. They made their way to us in no time flat, sounding off the whole way. My heart felt like it was going to start breaking ribs. Then, when they got about 20 yards away from us, they stopped. We were rushing in so quickly to set up, we did not notice the flooded timber between, directly in front of us. And turkeys are not fond of water. They would look at our decoys, then pace in a small circle, then stare our decoys down again. And the whole time this was going on, I was in a position where I could not see a thing! This went on for about seven hours (it was really more like ten minutes).
It was at about this time that I was starting to feel the pain of sitting perfectly still for so long in a kneeling position. I quietly asked Mike let me know when it was clear for me to move, and he just kept telling me, "not yet". After what seemed like another seven hours, he whispered, "Okay. You can move now. Just try to keep low," as the turkeys were looking for a way around the water. So I quietly hopped over to the other side of the tree. And that's when I saw my first turkey up close. I mean, I was close enough where I could see their eyes. I was two seconds away from going into total meltdown. I just wanted to pull that trigger so bad, I could taste it.
But I did not have a good shot. Mike could have possibly taken one, but he said he wanted to see me take my first gobbler, so he declined.
That's when nature stepped in. On a ridge about 150 yards off, a hen started to yelp. And that was it. Check and mate. Those toms were off like a rocket. Turkeys 1 and Hunters 0.
So, we go to check out another spot down the road. On the way there, we saw a tom in a small clearing off of the side of the road. We quickly pull over and set up in a field not too far away from the other, and Mike starts in with the calling. We listen, but hear nothing. After a little looking around, that tom is no where to be found. Off to the next spot.
We took a small drive to see if we can spot any in a field that we normally see them in. As we pass, time stops. There he is. A boss tom that would be a prise for any hunter. Just standing there in all of his glory. We spin the truck around and head up to an old access road to start our hike in. This is going to be tough, as the land we saw him on was private property, so we are going to have to call him to us. And big turkeys, just like every other prize animal, don't get to be that big by being stupid. They are smarter than the rest. That's how they have made it this long. After a nice hike up the back of this property, we find what looks to be another old access road, and our target is at the end of it and just off to the side. So, once again, we set up. Mike starts in with the calling. He threw everything he had at him. Nothing. This one lives for another season.
I went out again with Mike, once with his son, and a few times by myself, with the same results as that first day. But I learned a lot, spent time with good friends, and most of all, it was quality time spent outdoors!

Second Annual Houghton Lake Ice Fishing Trip

Well, it's been a while since I have last written, so I have alot of catching up to do! And the first story that I would like to tell is about our trip up to Houghton Lake for another stay out on the ice and the adventures that come with it. This year, my good friend Mike, along with his sons (and equally good friends) Mike and Jake accompanied me on this winter camp out. We started out our trip early Friday morning with a break from the norm and went to Tim Hortons instead of our normal Micky D's breakfast befor our two and a half hour drive. We arrived at Lyman's on the Lake where we checked in and bought all of our last minute supplies and bait. They helped us load all of our things onto the shuttle they provided and we made our way out to our home for the weekend. There was a pleasant surprise this year, as Lymans added a second set of bunks on the other side of the shanty. We got set up and started to rig up our poles and tip-ups with eager anticipation to the fishing frenzy we were about to take part in. After about an hour, we started popping holes in the ice with our new StrikeMaster power auger (we HAD to get a new toy for the trip) and set our tip-ups around the shanty.
But lets backtrack for a second. Before we had left, we decided we were going to play a game called "group tip-up". The rules of this game are pretty simple. Every hour or so, a new tip-up is chosen out of the group and deemed the "group tip-up". During that time, anyone who sees the flag spring on that tip-up can get it. If more than one person notices, they can do anything in their power (within reason - we don't want any one getting sevely hurt) to prevent the others from getting it first. The first person to get their hands on the tip-up gets to reel it in.
Now, back to the fishing. It's about here is where I would like to tell you that we brought them in left and right. That it was all we could do to keep bait on our lines. But that's not how it happened. Along with us came a low pressure system that killed all the fishing on the lake. There we a few flags here and there, but none in our camp.
Combine that with the near foot of snow that came down in blizzard conditions, it just wasn't a good weekend for ice fighting. But we still had a good time. We made the best of all of the time we spent inside our shanty. We ate like kings, told and retold stories, and made some fond memories. After all, isn't that what it's all about?

Awesome Fish Recipe: Fish Crack!

Well, I have been saying for some time that I would give you guys (and gals) my wife's awesome fish recipe that I have dubbed "fish crack". It's pretty simple and the first time I made it, we had five kids over and all of them loved it (and for my kids, that's a feat!). In fact, I only got a few pieces that first time she made them. The kids got the rest! So here is the soon-to-be world famous "fish crack" recipe....



Fish Crack

(Oven-Fried Fish Fillets)
Prep Time: 10 min
Cook Time: 20 min
4 servings

4 tablespoons (1/2 stick) unsalted butter
2/3 cup crushed crackers (I use Ritz)
1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese (about 1-ounce)
1/2 teaspoon dried basil
1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
1 pound sole, scrod, perch, blue gill or other mild-tasting fish fillets
Lemon wedges

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F

Melt the butter in a 9 by 13-inch pan in the oven. While it melts, combine everything else except the fish in a pie pan. Dip the fish around in the melted butter, dip each piece in the crumb mixture, and return it to the baking pan. Bake the fillets for 20 to 25 minutes, or until the fish flakes with a fork. Serve with lemon wedges if like.

These are also good fried, just not as healthy. Same process, just fry 'em for 2-3 minutes on each side or until golden brown. Make sure you have the grease good and hot! Enjoy!

First Limit of the Year on the Ice

Last weekend I was really craving some fish so I decided to go find a cure for my hunger. I headed out to Little Seven Lake in Holly to try my early morning luck. The walk out was less than fun because of the foot of snow on the ground. To make it even better, it was very warm out for this time of year, so the snow was thick and heavy. As I made the trek out to the ice, I noticed a lot of wet spots on the ice. I set my gear on the shore and made my way out with my spud. I avoided the wet spots and made a zig-zag pattern across the ice, checking every 10 feet or so. A solid 4 inches in most spots. So I went back and grabbed my gear and went out to my spot and set up. I cleared out an area of snow five foot by five foot and cut my hole. The second I broke through, water poured out, and the rest of the day I was standing in about 3 inches of water. Thank God I bought those new insulated rubber knee boots! When I finally got set up, I pulled out my trusty pan fish ice , tipped the teardrop with a waxxie, and sent it on it's way to work. I found bottom, reeled up about a foot, and let it set. Then, the first strike of the day. A nice gill. Teardrop back down the hole. This time, it didn't even have enough time to reach bottom. Another bite. And another nice gill. I repeated this process for about two hours. After the first 15, I started to get picky about what to keep. "Nothing under seven inches," I told myself. About two hours is all it took to limit out for the first time this ice season. I was home by 10am and ready to feed my addiction for fish. My wife found a new recipe for fish that I have dubbed "Fish Crack" because of it is possibly one of the simplest and best recipes I have ever had. And that recipe will be on here soon, I promise.

My Limit from Little Seven

First Ice!!!

Well, the time is here to start fishing the hard waters of Michigan! I headed out to a local lake to test the ice and see if my season of ice fishing could start. I ventured out on Little Seven Lake in Seven Lakes State Park and was happy to find 4+ inches of good, solid ice! It was only an hour or so until dark, so my time was limited. I popped a hole in the ice, set up and sat down. For the next hour, it was all I could do to keep my hands warm because I never had enough time to get my gloves on! Now when I went out, I didn't think I would find good ice, let alone find a hot-spot on the first hole. I was pulling gills up as fast as I could put the line back down to the bottom. Out of the 30 or so fish that I caught, 15 were definite keepers along with a 15 inch bass, my first taken through the ice. But, I didn't feel like cleaning any fish that night, so everything made it back to the hole.

A couple of days later I went out to Big Seven Lake and found a solid 5+ inches of good ice, but lady luck wasn't with me that day and I went home with an empty bucket.

Then this past weekend, I decided to take my two youngest out on the ice with me. I was also accompanied by Mikey from the Up North Journal. We decided to hit Little Seven Lake again and try our luck. I got my kids set up and, at first, the bite was slow. We really didn't have any action for the first hour. But then things picked up and the spring bobbers on the end of our rods were starting to earn their keep. In between bites, the kids were taking turns spinning in circles on the buckets and making snow angels, as well as a quick game of "fishball" (it's just like football, just with a frozen fish).

Every couple of minutes they would come back over to the poles and fish for a second before finding another game to play. One of the times they came back to fish, my daughter, Caitlyn, was holding the rod and the tip bent right down. She fought and fought like it was the last thing she was going to do. After a minute or so of reeling, I saw the flash of silver in the hole. When she finally pulled that fish out of the hole, I couldn't have been more proud. My daughter had pulled her first bass out of the ice. At only 12 inches, we had to let him swim away, but not before a picture and alot of praise. Later that night, I cleaned the fish and tried a new recipe. But that will have to wait until next time...

The kids and their catch from our day on the ice

Caitlyn and her first bass

Another Recipe: Disturbed Duck (or goose)

After posting that last recipe, I decided to start to put some more up from time to time. Here is one of my favorites. I got it from my good buddy Mike at the Up North Journal. The original recipe came from one of the forums on duckhuntingchat.com. This is a very simple recipe with very few ingredients. And it can be done with eaither duck or goose breasts. I changed the recipe a bit, so here is my version of "Disturbed Duck"......

Disturbed Duck

Here is what you will need.....

1 duck breast

Teriyaki (I use Veri Veri Teriyaki)

Soy Sauce

Worcestershire Sauce

Olive Oil

Any kind of instant rice or noodles (I like the chicken flavored rice or the teriyaki rice)

Start off by taking a duck breast and clean it off really good. Then cut it into thin strips (approx. 1/3in. x 3in.). Then mix 1/3 cup Teriyaki, 1 tsp soy sauce (I use the low sodium stuff), 1 1/2 tsp worcestershire sauce, and 2 tsp olive oil in a sauce pan and bring to a boil. Immediately turn the heat down to medium and whisk until thoroughly mixed. Start your rice or noodles per directions on the box. Put the breast strips in the sauce pan with the teriyaki mixture and cook on medium heat until you start to see the strips turn grey and blood just starts to come out of them then flip them over. Cook only for another 2 minutes or so. Duck is very easy to over cook, so watch it carefully. If you want, after you flip the breast strips, you can add a variety of whatever you want. Broccoli, sesame seeds, onion, and water chestnuts all work well. Use your imagination! Let it cool for a minute then pour it over the rice or noodles. You can make this as lavish or as simple as you like. I really enjoy these right before I go on a hunt because it is simple and quick, but very filling.

Another Great Waterfowl Weekend

A couple of weekends ago, both of the Mikes from the Up North Journal and I spent most of the weekend waterfowl hunting and it was great! We started out Friday night on Lake Ponemah on a little island that I have never hunted off of. Every time we have been out, someone has been out there, so we just go somewhere else. As we are first getting set up, I noticed a couple of mallards making their way off of the island, right where we were about to set our blind up at! Well, at least we know that there are ducks here!

After about 30 minutes, our decoys are set up and the blind is finished. We plop down and get ready for the onslaught. Nothing. It wasn't until an hour later that we heard a flight of geese coming in. With the gun mounted camera rolling on Big Mike's gun, Little Mike and I are laying in on the goose calls (well, I'm putting as many clucks out as I could manage while Little Mike throws out his champion calling skills) and they are coming right for us. There were three groups in the incoming flight, and the last group was looking promising. They started to veer towards us but they were not going to commit, so when they started to come overhead, we let loose. The lead goose dropped, but the rest kept flying. And that was pretty much the end of that night of hunting. But, around here, one is better than none. And, after reviewing the video and audio, we came to the conclusion that it was my bird. Add some more to the freezer.

The next morning, we headed out to another local lake that is only a few miles down the road from me. Big Seven Lake is in the middle of Seven Lakes State Park and is definitely our local waterfowl hangout. We were out on the water by 5:30am and set up with about 20 minutes to spare before first light. Right off the bat, the ducks were flying. This was going to be a good morning. After a few fly-bys that snuck past us, we had a pair fly in and circle around. They decoyed a little short and landed on the outside of the spread and swam in. When they got within range, we jump up to get them flying, but they just sat there. So we started yelling. They just sat there. Then we started throwing sticks. They just sat there. What was going on?!? No matter what we did, they just sat there and stared at us. So, we got out of the blind and started splashing towards them. Nothing. It wasn't until I got about 15 yards away did they even start to get up. I took one and Little Mike took the other. A mallard and a hen to start the morning off. The rest of the day was action packed. Birds were flying all over the place. We called a few in, but for the most part we were pass shooting. Or should I say pass missing. We didn't get anymore birds that day, but it was still a good day.

The next morning we headed out to the same place. Set-up was done with 20 minutes to spare again. Right at first light we had a flight of Wigeon come in from the west and they came in fast. They decoyed perfectly. Little Mike took the first one in. When he brought it up, it was perfect. A good sized body, perfect color, and just a few pellet makes in well hidden areas. With in the first five minutes, he decided that this one was going to be mounted. A while later another flight came in and Big Mike drop the middle one like a rock. We are pretty sure that Little Mike got one, but he managed to fly off. After two trips out in the boat and a walk around the island, we couldn't find him. But it wasn't from a lack of trying. We now had a Black duck to add to the count. After that, it was another day of throwing steel. I think in the next year, I'm going to join up with a sportsman's club that has a trap course.

So, all in all it was a good local weekend with some birds put in the freezer.



"Little" Mike and I
This is the Video "Big" Mike made of our waterfowling weekend....enjoy!

1st Duck Hunting Trip to Fish Point of '08

My morning started at 2:15 a.m. Man, it's been a while since I've seen this time of the morning. My warm bed is sitting there, trying to persuade me back to it's comfort. But not this morning. This is the morning I have been waiting for all year. This is the morning I head to Fish Point, a managed state game area by the Saginaw Bay. I head downstairs where all of my hunting gear is ready and waiting for me. It was all organized and arranged the night before to help ease the excitement and give me something to do before it was time to sleep. 2:50 a.m., the car is packed and I'm on my way to meet my hunting partner for the day, Brent. Brent is an electrician that was contracted to work at my school. A couple of talks about hunting and I knew I had found a new hunting partner. 3:30 a.m. and I am in the Meijer parking lot switching all the gear from my car to his. He is as excited as I am. Inside the truck, Lilly, Brent's golden lab, sits waiting. This is going to be her first trip out. 5:00 a.m. and we are in Unionville, where Fish Point is located. We drive around a bit to see if we can hear any ducks or geese that maybe found a nesting spot for the night outside of the refuge. Nothing. So we head over to the headquarters and register. We are party #31. After we get registered, we head to the maps and the number charts to try to make a more educated decision about where we want to hunt. The number charts are put up every Saturday morning and they tell you how many ducks and geese have been taken in each spot up to the current date. We made our list of the top 20 and waited. It was hot in there. It was the first open weekend at Fish Point, and the crowd that gathered inside affirmed that. 5:30 hit and they started to read off the rules and regulations for the areas, then they started to call party numbers. Fingers crossed. It seemed like they were reading forever. Well, we're not in the first 10. Or 20. Or 30. Man, this is getting bad. We were picked 65th. Well, do we want to see what we can get or try one of the open marshes? Most everything is gone, but we decide to go with an area of newly flooded corn in an area that hasn't been hunted that hard. 5:55, we are in our spot and it's looking nice. About 16 inches of water atop a corn patch about 120 yards long by about 25 yards wide. We start setup immediately because we only have about 20 minutes until first shot. We throw the decoys out in a sideways "J" pattern with our mojo in the middle front and the geese on point. My new Heron decoy is at point and slightly off to the side. Hopefully, he works out the way I had planned. We turn the mojo on and check the time. It's two minutes after first shot! Load up and sit back. I position myself on my swamp seat and wait. I can hear the other hunters around trying their best to swat whatever is flying by out of the air. With our eye's fixed on the horizon, we wait. I look down to grab my water bottle and take a sip. As I look back up, two mallards right overhead, now flying out of range. Damn! Can't drop my guard for a second. Okay, here we go. Eyes fixed. A couple of minutes go by and I hear Brent yell, "dang it!". A small flight of three right over his side. Okay, no more playing. We discuss what went wrong in the last five minutes and re-affirm what our sentry duties entailed. I scan the eastern horizon and listen for any sounds. All of the sudden, Brent yells out "Crap! Out front!!". I spin around and there are about 15 teals landing in our spread, maybe 10 ft. in front of me. Taken by surprise, I pull up and fire. Damn! Missed! So I pop off a second one. Damn! Okay, I'm just excited. Calm down. Take a breath. Focus. I squeeze the trigger and I see one drop. Alright! First one of the season! At the same time I hear Brent take two shots and he drops them both. Lilly bounds out with Brent, but has no idea what to do with the downed ducks. After some coaxing, she got the idea. So, back into the corn and wait. A bit later, a single flier came over top, but after two shots, she was still flying. A bit later, three mallards came over top. A couple of seconds later, the duck count was one greenwing teal hen, two greenwing teals, a mallard, and two mallard hens. For a spot that was taken out of the scraps left over from the morning, we're doing pretty good. As the morning grew longer, we heard the occasional shot here and there, but the morning flight was pretty much over. It was 11:00 a.m. so we packed up and registered our ducks at the station and looked at what was left from the afternoon draw. There wasn't hardly anything left. So we decided to go to a marsh that Brent knew of. So, after a hearty all-you-can-eat breakfast buffet at the lamplighter cafe, we did a little exploring around the refuge. Then it was off to Brent's spot. All cattails with an opening on the east side and a trench going around the perimeter. We get about half way out there and Brent says that it's getting too hard to row so we should jump out and drag the boat. Well, after a couple hundred yards of walking through knee deep muck, I was starting to wonder about Brent's spot. But, we were already on our way so no turning back now. We finally got to our spot and I could not wait to get the decoys out so I could rest on my swamp seat. Just after getting settled in, Brent decided he was going to walk over to the cattails and see if he could jump shoot some birds. And if he missed, maybe they would fly over me. Well, an hour an a half passed and no word from Brent. So I try to call him. No answer. A couple of minutes later, I call again. No answer. After four or five times of calling with no answer, I was starting to get worried. The trench that went around the perimeter was over eight feet deep. So, I started to call out for him. No answer. Just as I started to make the call to get the police involved, I heard splashing. Here came Lilly. And shortly behind her was Brent shaking his head and a big smile on his face. I ask, "well, any luck?". And he replies "Yeah, I killed my phone". He then proceeds to tell me how he tried to cross the trench in a shallow spot. He got about half way across before he realized that he couldn't make it. And at some point in this crossing, the water was high enough to spill into his pocket where his new cell phone was (two weeks earlier, he had lost his cell phone while out deer hunting, so this was the replacement phone). So, we sat for another hour or so, and not a single sign of birds. Sunset was upon us and nothing. Then, about 10 minutes before last shot, a single duck came flying by. It was a woody and he was on a mission. He was not looking at our spread and he was making a fast break for the refuge. It was a long poke, but at about 40 yards, I drooped him like a rock. We waited until shooting light was over to retrieve him. On the way back, I opted to stay in the boat and push with the oars. That was a tiring trek for this husky hunter. When we got back to the makeshift launch, we chatted with another hunter that had camped out there most of the week and done quite a bit of duck hunting and had been out that day hunting deer. As we drove home, we were already starting to plan the next outing. The sport of waterfowling is an addicting one. It is the closest I will ever come to knowing what a drug addict must feel like. Always thinking about the next time. Always setting up the fix. Now my mind is set to the next waterfowl outing. And it can't come soon enough.

The three I brought home from Fish Point

The One that Almost Got Away

There is a little spot where I love to hunt squirrel. It's a little track of state land that has been very good to me. And nestled a ways back in my little haven is a small pond. A small pond that almost always has ducks on it. So, if my waterfowling adventures aren't going too well, I usually make the hike back and try to take a duck there. It's the same every time. I approach from the trail coming from the south, sneak down the bank, and they get spooked and fly from the east side of the pond to the west. And as they start to fly over the west bank, I take my shot and they come down in the woods just past the bank. I go and retrieve them and all is well.

Well, after an unsuccessful hunt early last year, I decided to make my way back towards my secret little duck pond. And as I crept down the bank there, as always, were a few mallards swimming on the east side of the pond. I got into position then stood up, and they took off as according to plan. They reached the other side of the pond, I pulled up, squeezed the trigger, and BOOM! The mallard hen trailing the others did a nose dive into the woods. Perfect! I was giddy as a school kid as I made my way towards the other side of the pond (I still get the same feeling that I got with the first animal I harvested every time I take game) and into the woods. And there she was, just waiting for me to collect her. I got about five yards away, and she started to move. Heck. I winged her. Oh well, what's done is done, so I'll go finish the job. I took a step then BAM! I'm on the ground cursing the root I had just tripped over. Then, I look up, and she is making her getaway. I raise my gun and squeeze the trigger to take another shot before she can make it to the water and, wouldn't you know, I had the safety on. Now cursing my self, I take the safety off, but it's too late. She's in the water and swimming away. So, there I stand with my gun in hand, staring at the duck I winged swimming in the middle of a pond, and no way to go out and get her. This will not do. Now, I had pulled the trigger, so it was my responsibility to retrieve this animal no matter what. But how? That's when the light bulb lit up. I have an inflatable raft in my trunk! Awesome! But the car is a 15 minute walk away and I don't want her wandering off and then I won't be able to find her. So, I sprint back to the car. Keep in mind that I am in my full hunting wardrobe complete down to my 1000 gram Thinsulate hunting boots. Also keep in mind that I am 6 foot tall and weigh in at a robust 310 pounds. So, I get to the car and I am now drenched from sweat. I open the trunk and pull out the raft and one small oar and start to make my way back. To save time, I get the brilliant idea to inflate the raft as I am running as to save time. After almost blacking out a few times, I finally make it back to the pond and my prize is still waiting for me. Rock on. I finish blowing up the raft and think to myself "funny. I remember this raft being a lot bigger". The raft I had was one of my kid's pool rafts. I look on the bottom and laugh as I read the label proclaiming "100lb max". This should be fun. So I take my boots off along with most of my hunting gear because I know how this is going to end up. I put the raft into the water and start to ease myself down onto it. As I settle down I wait for the water to start coming over the sides, but nothing. This might work after all. Then I push off , and it just gets bad from here. The moment I leave the safety of the four inch deep water, I feel the cold rush of water all over. Now, imagine this. A rather large hunter in a little red and grey play raft in the middle of a pond, legs dangling in the water (so I can keep my balance, and because the raft is only about three feet long) with one paddle chasing after a downed duck. It was quite the sight. And every time I would try to paddle, I would have to reposition the way I way laying to be able to row on the other side. So, amidst everything else, I was spinning in little half circles. I was in that water for almost 20 minutes before I caught up to that duck. When I finally did, I ended it quickly, then headed back to shore. I couldn't help but laugh as I paddled back in. I sat on the bank for about 30 minutes drying off in the sun and contemplating what had just occurred.

The one that almost got away