Oh Deer....

So last night I accomplished one of the goals I set out for myself each fall.  Before the firearms season gets here, I always make it a goal to harvest a deer with the bow and arrow.  It simply ranks up there with catching a 50+ muskie.  If it weren't for muskie fishing, bow hunting would be my fave. This year has been very similar to years past for my bow hunts.  Many does and small bucks, but little big buck activity.  With last season showing me 7 different shooter bucks for the wall, I was pretty jazzed for this year.  Well, other than one shot of a big boy in August from a borrowed trail cam, I haven't seen hide nor hair of any of the bruisers.  Instead, I have doe, after fawn, after spike buck, after doe, each time out.  Very exciting, but no big boys.  I have had a couple of what I will call "Oops Outings" this year, but last night I made it a point to put the smack down on a deer.  being that I haven't hunted this season without having a deer in range of my bow, I thought I would have a descent chance even though the field edge I have been sitting on was recently plowed under.  Before I go much further, I just want to warn you that this story gets gruesome, and I have a picture that is even worse.  Now that you know this, keep going if you would like.  As the sun started to set, the woods came alive yet again.  In a matter of minutes, I had deer filling the field in front of me.  I watched and called at 6 of them until I was blue in the face.  Finally, I got one to respond, and a not so smart button buck walked right up to me.  At 5 yards, he ate until the other deer decided to follow him.  When the perfect shot presented itself, I flung an arrow at the chosen one, and gave a fist pump at what I believed to be the perfect shot.  A text book bowhunt if one were to write it, but wait...there is a twist to the story.  I decided to wait a few minutes as any hunter would do.  When I got down, I just decided to go straight to the truck to drive it out to pick up the deer. by then it was dark...Dang...I forgot my flashlight.  Ok, back to the house I go, then back again to the field.  By the time I got back, probably an hour had passed between when I shot and got to the deer.  To my utter amazement, I walked up on the deer and the grass matted down in a 20 foot circle.    A pack of coyotes had obviously found the deer before I got back.  She was torn to pieces like you would see on National Geographic.  Unbelievable was all I could think.  An evening that started so perfectly, came to such a bitter end.  Now all that is left is a feeling of revenge...Looks like I'm going Coyote Huntin'

The Quest... Part 1

And the Quest begins...The Quest for the new State Record Muskie that is!  Last year's season ended with some unbelievable fish coming in the boat.  Needless to say, I have been jacked up all year waiting for these few weeks to return.  The cold, the intense conditions, and the absolutely massive fish have been played over and over in my head for the past 11 months.  Yep, it's time to get the giant fall muskie bite started.  Joining me for the first of many upcoming trips to the big pond, was my uncle Loge.  If you have followed my tales for the last couple of seasons, you are aware that we always catch fish when we are together.  I'm not sure what it is, but it just always happens.  I had these thoughts running through my head as we loaded up the gear and headed northbound.  The forecast looked pretty good, and our hopes were high, even though I felt it was a little early in the season.  Last year my best fishing occured around mid November, but nevertheless, we were pumped just to be giving it a shot.  Dressed to the max, we were prepared for the worst when we hit the water.  To our surprise, the conditions were better than we anticipated, and it was actually pleasant to be on the water.  One of the few times I have been up there and had great conditions.  So with the reports from every fisherman I have spoken with saying "they aren't biting, stay home," we were off for the full day of kicking our butts throwing huge baits.  About20 minutes into our excursion my heart almost exploded as Loge's rod locked up.  "Got one," he said, and I almost couldn't believe my eyes.  Could it be the one? That was our only thought as he started the battle.  As the fish appeared, our hearts sank slightly to see that it was a pike, but then we realized how huge it was, and the high fives began.  This was a huge Northern at over 41 inches, and very fat.  A great start no doubt!

We continued our morning mixing things up, and as we approached the location of last years giant, I started to get really excited.  I informed Loge that I boated a 50 pounder here last year and he didn't look to give a hoot (as usual).  Nevertheless, I was pumped.  About 5 casts into it, and 25 yards from last years monster, came Margarette from the depths.  Yep, that's right!  We have a new giant, and a new nickname as we caught sighting of what will take over my thoughts for the next several weeks.  Was it a new state record???  We're not sure yet, but you can bet I am going to give Margarette another chance to eat my lure.  Well, that instantly sparked our spirits again, and even though she followed Loge's bait down deep, we could tell that she is something special.  Exactly the reason I wanted to head up there.

A few hours had passed between our sighting of the big girl, and the next chance.  Coming into this with the mindset that I don't plan on having a lot of action helped big time, because I knew I was waiting for just one bite.  At about 2:15 I got that very bite.  I switched baits, and two casts later I had a fish screaming in.  "Here we go" I said, and started the figure 8 process.  This fish, (nicknamed scoliosis) was dialed in, and she followed my bait for 8 or 9 full turns, and the entire time, she was no more than 3 inches behind the bait.  It was awesome to watch her work the bait as I screamed left and out, down and right, and over and over again.  Finally she ate, and our first ski of the day was recorded.  A lot of work?  yep, but very worth it.  She wasn't huge, probably 40 or 41 inches, but this fish definitely had scoliosis or something.  I felt bad for this fish, and hope she recovers, but something traumatic happened to this poor girl, and it makes a muskie guy sad to see.

About 2 hours later we were on our next large fish, only to have it follow and turn.  We were fairly pleased to be moving fish considering the reports we were hearing, but it made me very excited to see fish using the same teenie tiny spots as last year.  I think the next few trips will treat me very nicely!  As darkness came upon us, we had very high hopes of seeing our newfound giant.  At about cast number 7 on her I spotted a fish, instantly I thought it was the one, but as it turned off my bait I was quick to see that it was a new fish, and a bit smaller.  That was the last glimpse we had for the night, and just like that, the fish were totally lock-jawed again.  No worries though, we did what we came to do, and any time you can see a fish of that size, it makes it all the more sweet.  I will be back again, and it won't be long!  Until next time, keep on livin the dream!

Uh Oh....

Landing that trophy of a lifetime is an experience for all fisherman to cherish.  There is nothing better than holding that big muskie or giant walleye.  It's what we are out there for.  Today's fisherman has never been more educated in the art of CPR, or Catch, Photo and Release.  This is one of the major reasons for our trophy fisheries in this state.  Heck, I can remember fishing with my grandpa many years ago, and anything and everything went into the basket.  Well, that mindset is gone, and for good reason.  We are doing far more good to our resources by selectively harvesting certain fish, and releasing the others to fight another day.  Without this excellent approach, it is possible that the two fish I recently encountered would not have even been there.  So this leads me to my point, and the story behind the pictures.  Out on a favorite metro lake of mine, I recently slowed the motor down to come across one of the worst sights possible as a fisherman.  At first I thought it was a muskie floating dead, but as I got closer, it was obvious that it was a huge walleye.  I measured it at 30 plus inches just to see what we were dealing with.  The very next day on the water, and in a very similar spot, I slowed down to yet another floating fish.  This one was even larger.  Yep, a muskie.  Floating dead, and this one was in the mid 40 inch range.  A fish of a lifetime no doubt, but what happened? 

I'm sure that I will never know the answer to why either fish were floating dead, but it just brings me to my point.  It is great that the majority of fisherman now practice catch and release, but, that whole "release" part is only good if the fish is released properly.  It makes a guy think a little about the next fish that comes in the boat.  Are we really being good stewards of the water if we release a fish that is certain to die?  While I have handled several hundred large muskies and other trophy fish over the years, to the best of my knowleadge, every one of them have lived to battle another day.  I don't know if something happened after the release, and I will never know that.  The only thing that I do know is that I have a plan each and every time out.  When that big trophy does bite my bait, I know just what I am going to do.  I have the appropriate gear, and a game plan.  Those giants are going to go back for another day, at least I go far out of my way to ensure this.  I think seeing a horrible sight like this is just a reminder to how fragile these big fish can be.  It's a fun sport, but we must protect it.  Next time out, consider a game plan when you do catch that trophy of a lifetime.  You will be very happy you did, and trust me, it all happens very quickly.  Until next time, Keep on Livin the Dream!

One cast Wonder, And A Kicker...

To tell the story correctly, I must be honest.  It was not my first cast of the day, but it might as well have been. This past Sunday morning I climbed out of the deer stand staring at some very muskie looking skies.  I headed home, grabbed the boat, and off to the lake.  I once again made this decision with short notice, but ran into Pauly down at the Marina.  As I was putting the boat in, he said he was going to run home and I shoudl pick him up on the dock...that is if the wife ok'd his outing of course.  So i headed his way, and stopped at a spot real quick for a couple of casts.  After about 4 casts the phone rang and I was off to his dock.  So to proceed with the story of the first cast, it goes like this.  Pauly fishes walleyes mainly, but has been curious about this whole muskie deal that I am so consumed with.  I said it isn't very easy, but sometimes it seems like it, and that we are going to go catching today, and not fishing today.  As we pulled up to the spot, he grabs his rod, and I start explaining the drill as I have thousands of times over the years.  Without even thinking, I chucked my bait over my shoulder and started retreiving it like I usually do.  In mid conversation, I happened to glance at my bait, just in time to see the large wake appearing behind my topwater.  Get ready....Here he comes....Take it...GOT HIM!  That's pretty much how it went down, and Pauly just shook his head and smiled saying "No Way!"  As it approached the boat he screams..."It's HUGE!"  Not the normal start to the day, but heck I'm not going to complain about a 51 incher on the first cast.  Everything was textbook about the topwater bite, and now Pauly gets to see why I love this sport so much.  I'm sure he'll be getting a muskie stick soon.  Sorry Shelly!  The rest of our hour went quickly, and we had one other fish that should have come in the boat.  Oh well, A one cast wonder that won't soon be forgotten!

Now I jump further ahead to Wednesday evening.  I just got my boat back from the shop, and like any honest man, I wanted to see how it was running.  Of course I would never do this without a fishing pole and a couple of good buddies.  So Bails and Whorl jumped on in and we were off.  Yep, everything was running right...turn it off....do it again...Yep, still good...ok, now we can fish!  It didn't take too long, and we were dancing the muskie dance.  This is kindof a shot to Todd at my office, but he was suppose to be out that evening with me, but he had to pick out counter tops with his lovely lady.  So I am sorry to hold your fish Todd, but somebody had to.  The 43 incher nearly gave us a heart attack, but that's what I love so much about it. 

Some serious hunting stories are coming up next, so stay tuned for that.  By the way Darrin, did you find your gun yet?  Man that's a bummer!  Until next time, Keep on Livin the Dream!

Ducks Galore...

Ducks Galore.  Lets paint the picture.
It's the start of another Minnesota hunting season.  The anticipation is high as I rise from bed.  A start time that begins at 9:00 am forces me up at 4.  I hustle for a cup of coffee and on the road we go.  I meet up with the hunting crew and start throwing on the gear.  The sky's are dark, but my hunting crew says we must hurry.
For ten plus years we have scurried to this same honey hole, and the catch.  It is public hunting land.  "We gotta be the first," says Bails my longest standing hunting buddy.  So we throw the dekes on our shoulders, duck calls, shells and a beverage tucked in the waders.  Through the catttails for what seems like forever.  The slough looks different than in years past, but the ducks are there.  As it starts to glow from the rising sun, it is very obvious that this would be another good opener.
Typical opening duck day.  A bunch of great buddies with great nicknames.  Bails, Whorl, D to the E, Alabama, Scotty, and Jiffy.  Not a cloud in the sky or a ripple on the water.  As we flush the ponds resting birds, it is very apparent that yet again, I could have savored a couple more hours of sleep.  For 10 plus years we have hurried to be the first, and nearly every time, we don't encounter any hunters.
That's ok, it's duck opener, and we must get out there early.  To miss on the laughs and the talks of past hunts would be a shame.  The wait makes it all the more sweet.
As 9:00 am rolls near, we throw out the dekes and watch the sky's fill with flight.  I look at Scotty and we both know that this is going to be good.  8:55, 8:56, 57 and with each passing minute the ducks become more frequent.  Finally!  It's 9 and the ducks are everywhere.  Bang!  Bang!  and my limit is full.  Woodies that is.  All this anticipation for a couple of reports from the barrel.  Yep, that's opener.
As the woodies flew from every direction, it became apparent to Scotty and I that we weren't gonna have any other species to poke at.  As we round up the troops and pack up the birds, the the smiles are endless from a each and every hunter.  The walk was worth it, and the sleep unnecessary, cuz another opening day story goes down as a success.  28 ducks in total for the seven mighty hunters, and yep, It was worth it!
Thanks boys for all the fun, without the laughs and remeniscing,it just wouldn't be the same.  The ducks are the bonus when I hit the slough.  I just love spending time with my duck hunting crew!