What A Hunt....

Well, it's Monday morning and I'm in the office planning my fishing season.  That means my 2010 turkey season is over.  That is a good thing.  

My Field...

Saturday afternoon, I snuck out to the property I hunt each spring to do some last minute planning before my Sunday hunt.   I scoped out three or four ambush points where I might sneak around should the gobblers be on the move.  I knew their roosting trees and set up my first spot about a hundred yards to the south.  Each year, I like to take the time to also clear a few spots next to good-looking hiding spots.  I take the time to clear any dead brush around a big tree where I'll tuck in.  I also snipped

 My Hiding Spot....See the Chair? any low-hanging branches that might block my view.   I think a little planning before the hunt can make a world off difference.   My alarm chirped at 3:45 am and I hopped out of bed, showered and threw on a couple extra layers of camo.   The thermometer in the truck read 30 degrees and I drove in darkness to my hunting spot.  I passed through several pocket of cold, looming patches of fog.   I pulled up to my spot, quietly hopped out and clicked the driver's door shut.  I took a moment to look at the stars.  A couple of bedded down pheasants gently crowed as I watched a single satellite buzz by far overhead.  I walked through the pre-dawn darkness over the field, up a hill and into my turkey woods.  I set up a single hen decoy about 20 yards out front of my hiding spot and then settled in.  I leaned up in my turkey chair against the barbed-wire fence, laid out my calls, and fumbled new batteries into my earpieces.  They made just a tiny bit of noise, but in the silence of the turkey woods, I always wonder if roosting birds can hear my pre-hunt antics.

My Spread...
I sat quietly, all gear in good order and right at 5:20 am, a pack of coyotes came howling by.  Their morning calls woke every farm dog within a mile.  A few minutes later, gobbles in the old oak trees right in front of me.   Still in the darkness of dawn,  I yelped back gently.  Even so, I  probably called just a few too many times too early.   The turkey gobbled back and I actually thought it was out of the tree and down on the ground.   Just a few minutes before 6:00 am, three birds blew down out of two old oak trees right in front of me.  Gone....  How do those birds sit up there without us being able to see them?  It still amazes me.  Over the next 30 minutes  I heard a few distant gobbles, but nothing that sounded of much interest.   Just after 7:00 am I  decided to hop up for a quick moment to take a quick peek around.  I wanted to know if those birds had dropped into the lower field to get that first morning sun.  That's the toughest part of turkey hunting.  Being patient.  I snuck out of my hiding spot and peeked down the hill into the sun-covered field.   Nothing there.  I stood in the shadows and hit a generic yelp on my call.   A return gobble from a bird well off the property and way to the south.  I guessed about 400-500 yards away.  I quickly threw down a long yelp and got a quick gobble back.  I repeated twice and got two more gobbles.  I quit the calling for a bit as the old gobbler kept whailing.  Soon enough, I realized he was on the move and headed my direction.  

The Trail The Bird Walked To My Field...My heart pumped as I listened to the gobbler continuing to hammer away and keep making progress towards me.  I gave another setof slow yelps.  The gobbler again responded.   I don't know that I've ever hunted a turkey that gobbled as much as this guy.   He was hot!  It was downright awsome to listen to.... I kept an eye on the lower field expecting to see that bird pop out.  Never did happen.  In fact, it sounded like he was headed west of me.  I snuck back into my hiding spot and kept still.  It sounded like the bird was heading further west.  

  A Bird Behind Me!I twisted my head and looked down the barbed-wire fence line in the tilled field behind me.   Nothing.   More gobbles.   Finally, I saw his head pop out and he stood on the edge of the tilled field about a hundred yards away.  He and I spent the next 45 minutes talking back and forth.  Problem was, that darn bird hung up.  He would just not make a move my direction.   I stopped calling.  No movement.  He just paced back and forth and continued to gobble.  I thought about trying to make a move on him, but I had already been out of my spot once and decided patience was the best play.  I decided to hit a few quiet calls that I would muffle and point away from him, trying to get the old gobbler to think I was a hen headed another direction.  Sure enough, he made a slow move my direction.  I threw in a few purrs and realized he was closing ground rather quickly.  I put down my slate call and positioned my Browning between the strands of barbed-wire.  It would be an odd shot, my body twisted and bent.  I lost sight of the bird and he stopped gobbling.   I felt my neck tightening up as I sat, frozen in my goofy, contorted position.   I wondered if he had snuck back through the fence and might pop out right in front of me.  Crap.  I couldn't just swing my barrel. 

  My Sight Line...Suddenly, a head popped up right behind me.  I cringed to twist further around the tree and focused my barrel.  That bird slowly moved my direction.  I clucked my mouth call, he stopped and I gently squeezed the trigger.    By 9:00 am, I was back home cleaning a 21 pound gobbler.  I don't care that he's 4 pounds smaller than last year's bird. 

  My 2010 BirdI don't care that he's only got an 8 inch beard.   What matters is I spent six weeks laying out a plan to hunt my 2010 bird.  I picked the property, watched it religously (and the birds), planned my hiding spots, practiced my calling and eventually made good...  Now we fish.  Five days to opener and counting....

Good Golly, I'm Birdy!

 See the Gobbler?

Well,  I am certainly living the soap opera.  Geez, we outdoor types tend to be emotional.   It's bad enough that I have to wait until May 9th this year to hunt turkeys.  Worse?  All my buddies have been out and most have great stories to share while I just sit around, waiting.  I've become a turkey junkie.  This time of year, turkey hunting is just about all I can think about.  To "scratch my birdy itch" while I impatiently pass the days,  I drive by the property where I have permission to hunt.   Twice I day, I pass on my way to and then back home from work.  One or two nights a week,  Bradya and I hop in the Jeep after dinner and drive around and check out fields near the house. 

Brady, Scopin' Turkeys

He gets a kick out of watching birds out the back window of the Jeep.  He even seems to get it when birds gobble back to my owl call.  It's bonding time for us.   Anyway, back to the soap opera....  So last year, I saw gobblers and hens in my field just about every day I drove by to and from work.  This year, a very different story.  For darn hear five weeks, I've been zipping by and I've seen "my birds" just once on a cold morning in March.  That had me questioning if many birds called the property home this year.   Last week, when I drove by during my morning check, my stomach dropped.   Right in the top field very near the road;  Two trucks.  Turkey hunters...Rats.  Now, I certainly don't own the piece of property and it's perfectly understandable that the landowner allows other folks to hunt there as well.   It's just tough to think that I'd be hunting land that had already been pounded.  Such is the game of turkey hunting.   For two days, I drove by the field, staring down those two trucks, a deep scowl on my face.   On the third morning, as I dropped my brow and prepared to drive by, a change.  The trucks weren't there.  That afternoon I zipped by again.  No trucks.  I wonder if the hunters killed turkeys.  In the following days, I didn't see anything on the property.   No hunters.  No birds.  Worried that the property had been beat up,  I spent half a day last weekend looking for other spots to hunt.  I couldn't find anyone willing to give me permission to hunt.  Needless to say, I wasn't exactly excited about my

Gobbler!

prospects for the year.  Finally, yesterday, I decided to check and see if my old spot was even worth hunting.  I snuck out to the upper field just before five am.  I tip-toed in darkness up the side of a freshly-tilled field towards the spot I think the turkeys roost.  Almost instantly, a loud gobble.  I froze in my dusty tracks.  Another gobble. Then another.  For the next 90 minutes, I stayed back and listened and watched for the hot bird.   Eventually, the big, ol' gobbler wandered down into the green grass of the lower hay field.  A big bird. I drove off to work, my scowl replaced by a giant smile.  

 See the three birds?

This morning, I went back again to watch.  This time, three gobblers wandered out in the main field.  

I hope he's around Sunday!

Two of them fought a bit.  Needless to say, I am absolutely fired up to hunt on Sunday morning.  I wonder if my 2010  turkey soap opera might finally be nearing an end.... I'll keep you posted. 

The First Spring Fishing Season is Underway...!

I am glad to report that my open water fishing itch is slowly, but surely, getting scratched.  This weekend, we headed down to Red Wing, Minnesota to fish with a bunch of volunteers who are helping rehab one of the Midwest's best trout streams.   Trout Unlimited has been working to clean up Hay Creek, which has suffered in recent years.  Last year they worked on roughly 4,000 feet of stream.  This year, they'll be working another 6,000.   I set up right alongside the creek. 

Now, if you look closely at the picture there, do you see anything unusual?  On the far bank there, you can see a bunch of trees down.  That's part of the whole rehab project.  Most of those trees are invasive Boxelder.  Trout Unlimited and the DNR are having those trees cut as part of the stream work.  The Cut Area...Volunteers will be reworking 6,000 feet of the stream.  In the last couple of years, they revamped roughly 4,000.  We fished the rehabbed area along the volunteers.   All I can say is wow!  To be able to catch a bunch of brown trout on dry flies is absolutely amazing. 

TTBig Brown on Caddis DryTh int hithis a size 12 caddis dry at 1:15 in the afternoon. ig caddis and          

This fish hit a size 12 caddis dry at 1:15 in the afternoon.  If they weren't on the surface, we found plenty of fish biting on nymphs and midge droppers.   In the evening, we found rising fish again. This time, a chunky fish took a 14 bwo.  Wow!

Another Chunky Fish!

Now that my trout itch has been scratched, it's time to think about getting into the boat.  Wisconsin's walleye opener is only a couple weeks away!  

Darn Rain! The End.....

Well, it's officially time to wrap up the '09-'10 ice season.  Yes, I could jump into the truck and drive six hours north to grab one more day of fishing, but this morning I walked out into the garage and looked around.  I get the feeling it's time to leave ice behind and start thinking spring fishing.

The Sherck Garage All the wet tents, tarps and gear hanging from the rafters are leftovers from quite the ice adventure we pulled off Thursday.   We had a forecast of rain movning in, so buddy Mitch Petrie and I packed the truck and trailer to try and squeeze in one last ice fishing adventure.  We drove six hours north to a couple of remote trout lakes hidden in the Superior National Forest up in northern Minnesota. Up there, we hooked up with ice guru Chip Leer, quickly packed our Otter Sleds and started hiking, sleds in tow, along the Hogback Lake Trail.  I had a remote trout haunt in mind.

Deep in the Superior National Forest

Scarp Lake has a reputation for having a bunch of nice trout in it.  We were headed that direction through a maze of small lakes and portages when suddenly, I felt something.  Uh oh.....  It started as just a few big, cold drops.  Slowly, it increased to a steady rain and eventually, borderline downpour.  We scrambled  to find the nearest camp and get set up.  Wrestling rain in 35 degree weather can be downright dangerous, especially when you're deep in the woods.   We teamed up and within an hour, we had the dining fly tied tightly between a few trees and three tents pitched to keep our gear dry.  I got to work on a fire and Chip and Mitch got to the task of trout fishing.

Starting A Fire In Downpour

We drilled a bunch of holes just off shore in four to thirty feet of water.  You'd see the trout periodically zip through on the electronics.  Aggressive jigging with small Northland jigs tipped with plastics seemed to get their attention, although getting them to actually bite was a different story.  Was it the foul weather and low pressure?  Did we just pick an off day?  Who knows, but twenty minutes into the fishing, Chip hollared as he hooked and wrestled a chunky rainbow up and onto the ice....

A Chunky Rainbow

That fish ended up on the dinner table...

Dinner...

I slept soundly through the sound of steady, cold rain pelting down on the tent.  Next morning, I awoke to the sound of the popping percolator and the smell of fresh, dark coffee.  36 degrees as I crawled out of the tent.   We shoveled down a healthy portion of hot oatmeal topped with blueberries and chocolate chips and swigged down quite a few cups of hot coffee.  By 8 am, we had our lines down the holes, jigging for more trout.  We missed one very big fish (we guessed it was a four or five pound splake)  just below the hole and landing a handful of tiny splake.  Photojournalist Aaron Achtenberg found a good spot to hide under the dining fly and shoot us as we fished in the rain (watch for the story in upcoming episodes of both Minnesota Bound and Due North Outdoors).

Aaron Shooting in the Rain...

Mitch's smallest splake

We cleaned up camp and hiked out about lunchtime, loaded up our wet gear and called the trip a rainy success.  Quite the drive out to the pavement on 13 miles of gummy and muddy forest roads!  Bill, Chip, Mitch and Aaron

 Although the trip north was great, I decided to sneak in one last ice trip yesterday.  I called up my fishing partner, Travis Frank and also Chris Witte from Otter Outdoors.  Aaron grabbed a camera and the four of us snuck out to shoot a quick story on our last day of the ice season.   We zipped to a lake just west of town, a favorite of mine called Pelican.   We had to sneak through a little water to get onto the ice, but once up there, we drilled a couple of quick holes and realized we had more than sixteen inches of good ice. 

Travis Checking The Ice

We hiked out about half a mile to a favorite spot of mine, drilled a couple dozen holes and started looking for fish.  Travis popped a few in very shallow water and we all got to the business of late-ice panfish.  Turns out, we could jig just below the hole and spot fish the bluegills. 

See the Fish?

  We watched as fish after fish came through and whacked out tiny jigs tipped with waxworms.  Quite the adventure, considering the 65 degree weather on the ice. What a fun way to wrap up the ice season! 

Not Quite 'Pounders...

At dark, we wrapped up our day and hiked off the ice.  Once we got close to shore, we got our spring surprise.  The small gap of water near shore had opened to a nearly 20 foot expanse.  Nothing to do but jump in and make our way to shore.

Time to get Wet!

  That's it for this ice season! Now l'm getting birdy (and impatient) waiting for turkey season....More to come shortly.

A Puck and a Fishy Prayer...

Taking A Break...

Man, I'm getting old.  I had an old hockey teammate in town for a "boys weekend" and Jeff and I sure made the most of our time together...  The theme of our trip was "ice".   We started by lacing up and spending a couple hours each day on the ice.  After we'd wear out, we'd trade in our skates and sticks for ice fishing gear.  See, although Jeff is from Montreal, he never really got into the ice fishing thing.   I vowed to change that.  We headed out to one of my favorite metro lakes and it  was

Jeff in the Otter...

instantly clear that Jeff has a future in ice fishing.  We set up the Otter Ice Cabin and just as soon as Jeff's tiny jig dropped through the hole, his rod tip dipped and he had a tug on the end of the

Jeff With Two Nice Fish!

line.  Jeff quickly reeled in his first big sunfish.  He proceeded to repeat the act all evening, coming up with quite the pile of fish.  Heck,  the two of us went through two tins of waxworms in three hours. 

Another Nice Fish

That's pretty rare, especially on a metro lake.  We even had a tip-up pop right about sunset.  Jeff slowly pulled line in, hand over hand, and brought a beautiful largemouth out through the eight inch hole. 

Winter Bass

What a weekend of fishing.  Again, our recipe for both big crappies and sunfish consisted of Northland Mud Bugs tipped with waxies and also Northland Bro's Bloodworm Jigs tipped with plastic Buggy Tails.  

Cleaning Fish

We ended up cleaning quite a few fish and enjoying quite the winter feast.

The Fish Fry... Our last afternoon, we decided to skip fishing and head to one of my old skating haunts.   We split up Splitting Up Teams...sticks and skated against a bunch of high school hotshots.   Nothing like a classic game of shinny with ten guys on each team.  After that game, I need a bottle of Advil.  Man, I'm getting old....