Paul's BIG 44 incher!

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My Grandpa was a real Cowboy!  

By "Bigshot", MyHuntingPage.com  7-08

There are certain people we meet through our lives that often carry great influence even though our time with them is short.  My Grandpa was such a man,... my hero.  

I come from a long history of North Dakota pioneers, my family on my fathers side came to America in 1899 from Germany looking for the Great American Dream. Following the New York entry they made their way to Milwaukee, creating background for novels such as "Welcome to the Jungle", by Upton Sinclair. They then  heard wind of the great land opportunity in North Dakota and like many others headed west! They Homesteaded land in Towner N.D., the "Cattle Capital" of America, and that's where "my legend" began.  

My great Aunt wrote a book about our family history dating back to their arrival in America, so the facts as portrayed via her autobiography, make for great fireplace reading on a long winters' day.  My Great Grandfather was a Horse Whisperer, hired by the U.S. Army during WWI to break wild horses for the military.  He also, shot a man with a six shooter "in self defense" so the story reads! He was the first of the family cattle ranchers in a tough North Dakota prairie. I vaguely recall meeting him when I was just a small boy visiting the ranch out west one summer before he died at 98.  His son, my Grandpa, born in 1899 is the one I recall with very fond but short memories.  

He was a tough guy, a regular John Wayne in my eyes,... tall (of course I was about 8 years old, so everyone by memory was tall), he only wore western clothing, the two stranded tie with the metal buckle, always cowboy boots, and his Stetson hat.  His demeanor was that of the "Marlboro man", tough but gentle, he spoke, and I listened intently.  I always felt that he treated me"special" of all the grand kids (about 20 of us or so, we had 8 aunts and uncles), that was one of his skills; I think we all felt we were "special".

One summer at about 9 or 10 years old, we had a partial family re-union with cousins from around the country all back at the ranch. Well, being all that "special" and all, I snuck into the ranch house and grabbed Grandpa's Stetson hat of the entry table (real Cowboys take their hat off in the house), and placed the 10 gallon monster on my "immature" head and proceeded to announce to all my cousins with great pride, that I was "special" because Grandpa always "lets me" wear his hat!  Well... as we all learn at some time in our lives, the biblical teaching, "pride comes before the fall".  Flaunting my Stetson and bursting in self Glory, a typical whirlwind came across the barnyard during my "sermon" and into the cattle trough blew the hat right off my not so thick skull!  Guilt wrapped quickly across my veins as a choir of cousins proceeded to express "Oh No's" as I reached in and pulled the wet hat from the green scum in the water tank.  "Oh God... what do I do?"  The tan hat glowing in radio active green and brown stains... "Quick wipe it off", yelled one cuz, "no, wash it off", screamed another... and "boy, you're gonna die!" was heard the loudest by my arch rival cousin!  

Coward that I was, I feared for my life... I quickly confessed to my cousins that I never had permission to wear the hat, somehow thinking the confession would alter my fate, or at least create a quick remedy, but the choir quickly became a jury of "guilty" your honor.  Alone, as they all ran away from me in horror, I was for the first time in my life, frozen in fear!  Looking back, I regret the decision I made, instead of doing the right thing, confessing my sin to my Grandpa, and facing it like a man, I wiped the hat with clean water best I could and slipped it back onto the table in the entry way.  

I never knew what G'pa thought, and no one ratted on me, but the guilt that I had lied to myself and my Grandpa stayed with me a long time.  As with most "sin" I ignored the memory and pushed it from my mind when it popped up, but it was there... I failed myself, and it hurt... guilt became shame!  

My Grandpa, I think knew the story, but somehow it just never came up, but I'll never forget later that week, when Grandpa, my Cowboy Hero, took me the city slicker, into town to buy me a pair of cowboy boots and a "hat".  I felt 6 foot tall that day, a real cowboy, even with the unspoken "forgiveness" I felt from him, though the subject of his "stained" Stetson never came up.  Somehow, I felt washed clean by his free gift, in spite of my "hidden" unworthiness to receive it... I think he sensed my sorrow in my hearts confession, although I wasn't tough enough to express it... but he knew, I know he knew, and that seemed to be enough!  

There was a glimmer of Gods grace and mercy in that man, and although never addressed, I could sense his unconditional love that day, in a way that I've never forgotten, he was a real Cowboy, a mans man, a Godly man,... My Grandpa!

P.S. My Grandpa died when I was around 11 years old, for whatever reason I wasn't taken to the funeral, as I grew up in Wisconsin, and can't recall the circumstances at that time, but anytime I've made it back to the area, I visit my Grandpas grave, just for the wonderful short lived memories of an era.

This is great!    Jennifer

"My Trophy" ALBINO BUCK   By: Bigshot, http://www.myhuntingpage.com/ 7-1-08 

Today was for my wife and I, "a once in a lifetime" experience! Up close, probably 30 yds. We saw a wild roaming trophy size "Albino Buck"!  

The day started out like any ordinary day off.  My sweetheart and I took a motorcycle ride out west of our Lake Country area heading down county roads in the beautiful green countryside of Southeast Wisconsin between Milwaukee and Madison.  The morning was breathtakingly gorgeous, with everything brightly green along sprays of wild flowers and young fields soaking in the clear blue sky!  After the record breaking floods of 100 year plus this June, it was spectacular to get out in the bright sunshine. We were rumbling down a County Highway east of Madison (details left out to protect the farmers privacy), when to my wife's surprise I hit the brakes hard and quickly pulled a u-turn onto the gravel across the roadway and killed the power!  Before she could yell or hit me  (she must've thought I'd lost my mind), I heard... "It's a statue!"  "No... it's real baby!" was my whispering response.  We all just stayed there in a moment of Awe!  It must be the same feeling as one seeing Mt. Everest, or when we first saw the Grand Canyon, or our first child being born... OK... not that one!    

Motionless, he just stood there!  Massive in stature, he was very big in the body and wide, knowing the area, it's not unrealistic that he could go 275 lbs. or more.  The whiteness captivated my focus, BUT then... the rack!  Wow! I've seen many pictures in the local news over the years of albino deer, some bucks, and often they have respectable antlers. But this guy had a rack!  Remember, it's only July 1^st... but his antlers rose high above his head and although thick with velvet, they were wide.  Straight up before there was even a beginning of a split made me realize the huge potential I was looking at!  He's gonna have one massive rack was all I could think.  OK, think I'm telling myself... a camera, that's what I needed, cell phone camera, how's it work? Hesitation, reaching in my pocket, he turns and walks into the wind row behind him.  "He's huge," my wife comments... "Yup!", I mumble!    

A quick turn of the key, and around the corner on the intersecting Highway south, we spot him down in the corner of the field grazing, now at 100 yds. distance.  Two vehicles are coming towards us and I'm fully stopped in the middle of my lane waving arms for them to stop.  I just wanted someone else to see this painting!  The first truck slows way down, then continues on, but the second car stops and as the windows dropping quickly, I thought he'd fall out with his cell phone, as I yell... "Do you have a camera?"  "Ya", he says as he brings it up and clicks, by now I've found mine, although I must admit I haven't got the foggiest idea how it works, so I just point and click?  I walk over by his car and ask, "Does it zoom?" "Yes, but it's far off!" he states.  "That's alright just keep taking ‘em, I ask. We spend moments in sharing the experience, and then I give him a business card from http://www.myhuntingpage.com/, and ask him to please email me the copies.  

The buck slowly grazes towards the corner of the field and eventually into the green shadows. We "saddle up" on the bike, and head back on track, just savoring the moments that we shared!  "That was great honey!" my wife shares,..."Yes!" I respond squeezing her thigh next to me as we enter back into the suns rays across the country road ahead! "It's really special because we shared it!" I say, almost teary eyed by the uniqueness of the scene we both were joined in.

P.S. I sure hope that stranger emails his pics! Does anyone know how I can get the one out of my camera? (AT&T LG)

I can`t wait to see the picture, I`ve never seen a albino before. I`ve seen a piebald before, of course that was probably 4 years ago. Me and my son brady was doing a roof over on leach lake (located in Hastings) and the home owner was telling me the other day that a fawn was trying to nurse on his deer target. no pictures though. Have a good 4th                                     JON

That is cooool. I am particularly glad it was you and your wife that experienced it. Any way I could get the name of that farmer?                                                    Scott

A "Redneck" Fish Story !

A Turkey Hunt!

My second season tag turned out to be a little more challenging than the first victory dance in April, thus I'm glad I passed on the tomahawk!  Don't get me wrong, I had 6 different gobblers within easy shotgun distances, but missed opportunities with my bow! I took 2 different shots, one at 25 yds., and by my own admission a total lack of focus and follow through pulling the shot to the right and low, but the second - wow - right in front of my wife, whom thinks I'm Daniel Boone, or at least Jeremiah Johnson (I've spent years earning that title)!

It was the final day in late May, (Wisconsin has multiple 5 day seasons that run Wed. through Sundays). Up to this point I was stalking with limited success, over confident from Aprils score, and probably too careless in my stealth.  I came upon many groups, once even as close as 20 yards, but too thick with all the leaves and grass. As I said, easy shotgun ranges, but the true challenge is open hunting with a bow, no calls, or decoys!  

Back to Sunday,... so on this day I convinced my wife that it would be the thrill of her lifetime to sit in a pop-up blind on the edge of a corn field staring at the stubble for hours, waiting for action. Actually I made it sound much more "romantic", throwing in peanuts, root beer, a comfortable camping chair, and even her favorite book to read.  I guess there's less guilt involved when we can talk our wives into joining us in the field? Anyway, supportive as she could muster it up, she agreed, after all, where else can she model her new camo pants and top she bought last fall at my encouragement!  Off we went, and set up in the blind   (breaking all my own hunting challenges), I even put out hen decoys, and scratched off some box calls into the valley.

It wasn't but 20 minutes tops, that out across the field we spotted a hen, the one I called "Limpy", as I'd seen her on previous hunts, she limps when walking, almost a hop.  She gives the appearance of an old maid, so it's comical to see the same "Ole Tom" with his side kick "Mr. French", not far behind.  You see, I watched Ole Tom, a rather plain bluish gray headed Gobbler that is never seen without his butler, "Mr. French" close by.  Ole Tom has about an 11"-12" beard, and Mr. French is about 6 inches. What's so interesting is that Ole Tom follows Limpy strutting and fanning the whole time across an entire field never getting closer than 10 yds, gobbling often, as Mr. French, quarters closely , he never fans or gobbles, just quietly follows? I had watched this pan out two prior occasions, and today the scene played over again for my wife's enjoyment. They took a good hour to cross our way, as past history told me to simply wait and watch as I knew they'd head up into our corner to exit the field.  So, between updates on their position, my wife enjoyed her book and I ate peanuts.    

When they came within 50 yards or so, down went the nuts, and her book, "don't move" I whispered as my wife attempted to lean forward to view out the window! Limpy hopped along slowly, pecking the ground between each hop, as Ole Tom, not a bit closer to an introduction continued his efforts, as though "teaching" Mr. French his courting skills (poor as they seemed).  Finally, as they passed across our front, never closing in more than 25 yards, I decided to show the Mrs. my "expertise" with a shot.  He just didn't present my preferred shot, a rear posture in full fan, as they seemed more focused on hitting the tree line ahead. So, with over confidence intact , I came to full draw, placing the sight pin on his neck at 25 - 30 yds,... thump,...low and right, as I instantly knew that I had anticipated the shot, not keeping my pin on the target, but visualizing the whole bird! A sure failure in bow hunting, a common error, I lowered my head in disgust! "Honey... you missed", oh the sweetness of a loved one calling it like it is! "Darn...I didn't follow through, I knew it the second I released the shot." Still time for other gobblers in the area, I quickly re-grouped my thoughts, and convinced my lovely, that there's more fish to be caught, as just then the local farmer "thundered" onto the field in his big John Deere scarring us and everything for miles around, proceeding to spray!   

Gathering up the decoys, and waving appreciatively, we strutted back to the Suburban, ending our 2^nd spring season. To add insult to injury, I ran back to recover my lonely arrow, which now had John Deere written down the broken shaft!  

The drive home was very quiet, broken by my partner in life's comforting statement... "Honey, anyone can shoot a turkey with a gun, but you wouldn't be happy doing that!" That's why I love her, she really knows me!

Messaging responses

"it`s awesome that you can spend some time with the woman you cherish while you`re doing something you love. there`s always next year!!!"                         Jon

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Big Bucks for a Relationship?

By "bigshot" @ www.MyHuntingPage.com 5-08  

Everyone's heard the reference to sowing and reaping, give to get, positive mental attitude, etc.  There are fundamental truths in such thoughts, although I am convinced that the sowing & reaping takes precedent.  As I reflect upon years in the field, and on the water, it's humorous to look back and see the many times when the unexpected occurred just as I was thinking of throwing in the towel.  

"The ‘dead see' tree stand!" - That's what I'd call this adventure.  

I had been hoping for years that my son (now in his early twenties) would re-establish his lost interest in hunting that went by the wayside at an early teenage decision.  Skateboarding and snow boarding seemed the "Holy Grail" in those years, surrounded by rebellious buddies and hell bent to discover himself away from Dads' agenda. Looking back, that's a whole subject in of itself, of which, I'm finally confessing, was mostly my undoing.  Hours in tree stands, and long days in rain soaked woods with out any success or even game to be seen added to the dwindling attraction to the field. And face it, the cheering on of 12 and 13 year pals on the half pike far out weighed my "toughening" him up by nearly freezing him to death!  So, to my utter surprise last deer season, he asked not once but twice... "Hey Dad, when are you going up to deer camp this year?"  Wow, a glimpse of interest, or was he just testing my condescending usual remarks.  Either way, my answer was surely a risk, so squeezing my ears together tight, I said, "Opening weekend is always right before Thanksgiving,..., (carefully sneaking in)... Why?"  Oh, I don't know, I thought I'd be fun to join you!"  Gulp, was that my tongue I just swallowed?  Did he say...? "Join you?"  Careful, don't blow it,... (I'm thinking to myself),..." Hey, that'd be great!"  

O.K., this is big, now how do I give him the trip of a lifetime, so he'll get super hooked, and want to spend countless days with me in the woods until death do us part?  If I take him up there and do my normal routine, leaving an hour before sun up and getting back to the cabin late after dark, intense on finding the big buck in the swamp, he'll definitely never come again.  So, I decide to forego the quality of deer hunting and make an attempt at the quality of a relationship with my son.  

Here's the plan, stay very very close to the cabin in one of our "kids" stands, (where rarely is seen a buck, let alone maybe some does), but, if he's cold, he can walk back to the cabin, he can't get lost, if he's tired or hungry, or needs to use the facility, etc. Some of you know what I'm referring to.  My Dad would call it "drug store hunters."  

  The plan in place, opening morning comes, and we're in the tree stand before dawn, and shots are ringing out everywhere but near us!  I have no idea, how deer can be all around us, but not one within our 100  yard range?  Well, as one can imagine, I'm dreading the fact that as much as I'm trying to keep the motivating speech going,... there's no chance that any deer are coming our way!  It's only 9:00 a.m., but his fidgeting is getting really annoying, so avoiding an explosion of "will you stop fidgeting" at the top of my lungs,.. I say, "Things are kinda slow,... would you like to go back to the cabin and warm up, or rest?"  Aaaargh! Did I just say that?  It's against every Daniel Boone DNA cell in my body to encourage "quitting" the  hunt.  I'm the kinda guy that has sat out all day from 4:30 a.m., to 7:00 p.m. in the cold and rain, only to later "unload" my black powder charge with a misfire!  Ha, ha, now that's a true story - like it's never happened to you in the pre-break open muzzle loading days! "Ya, I'm kinda cold, I think I'll go back awhile and warm up!" A nod of my head was all it took for the downward descend from our eagles nest.  Off he scampered following the trail up from the creek to the cabin.  Now I'm thinking, what do I do if the deer show up, now that he's gone. I convince myself that Murphy's law is in effect!  

Ten, eleven, twelve o'clock, one, two, three?  O.K., something tells me he's driven back home?  Not a deer to be seen , but the sun's setting soon, surely they'll be moving now,... here he comes, my son that is!  There's still hope, and he didn't miss a thing (not that it's been good for the deer hunt).  Patience, don't insult, bite the tongue,... "Welcome back, feeling better?"  (I'm thinking,...who can sleep through opening day?)  O.K., re-group, the suns setting soon, there must be a deer with our name on it?  Nope,... at the last hope of shooting time, nothing, nada, zip!  The first time in over 40 years, an opening day without even a tail in sight!  Oh boy!  Maybe this conservative stand idea in the "dead see" was a bad idea!  After all, no action is worse than being cold, fatigue, hunger, etc.  All is forgiven, it's just part of life, there's still tomorrow.  

Day two, he decides to "sleep in", who can blame him, and the excitement of opening day must've been too much for him!  I'm an addicted die hard, so trying to understand his perspective I force myself towards the dead see.  Oh my Lord,... what a long long day, one can only count squirrels for so long, and that awful rendition of the song "radar love" is stuck in my brain,... help! I need some action!  My son tolerated a few hours with me through the day , finally giving in to shear boredom,...Oh how I wished I could just give up too, but stubbornly I persist onward for the "hunt".    

That's when Murphy's law kicked in, or for others, the concept of "things can change in an instant",...or "like a thief in the night",... after an entire day of boredom and absolute inactivity, I did what, at the moment, seemed practical?  After all it was around 3:00 o'clock, and nothing living was seen for hours,... so I decided to take off my neck warmer, as temps were reaching the mid 40's, and the sun was warming the high tower.  Of course in order to accomplish such a task, it required that I set down my rifle and remove my coke bottle glasses in order to slip the tight neck band over my head,... so quietly, and slowly, I set my glasses down onto the chair, and looking up to remove the neck warmer half way up my face, stopping on my nose I see 3 "fuzzy brown patches" at 30 yards staring straight at me! Gulp,... this time I think it was my tongue I swallowed,...now what? Blind as a bat, and staring down the little fuzz balls, I prayed instantly that there wasn't a buck in that group, because surely, this isn't good!  Don't move, I've learned that from bow hunting, let them move first.  What seemed like minutes, probably was seconds, then down went their heads as they walked along the trail crossing away to my left side.  Steadily, and focused I eased the neck warmer off my nose and reached down for my glasses,... careful, slipping them awkwardly onto my ears I brought the scope up to my eyes searching for the now visible does (thanking the Lord they weren't bucks).  Great, 30 yards when they arrived,  but now they're quartering through thickets at 75 yards! I pick out the lead one and "Balloom" off went the 30-06, and down went the doe,... "Balloom", and the second one falls,.. then focusing on the third, it trots behind some short pines,... a brown patch, no shot,  a flash there,.. gone,... no good opening as it faded as bits of brown into the under growth.  

The dust settles and 2 bonus doe tags are filled! Victory, not skunked, and the long drought of the past two days seems distant. My son joined in the victory, I must've woke him up with the shots, not being but 50 yards from the cabin. The "dead see" did have life, and my relationship with my son was shared with less demands and more understanding.  All is well, and there will be venison to share.  More importantly it opened the door for more shared hunts in the future with my son,... "the hunter."

MESSAGING RESPONSES

I just got done reading your hunting story with your son,loved it.the one thing i did notice was your diehard tactics for hunting. when bow season opens i go everyday after work rain or shine.I tell myself the day i dont go is the day the big one walks by cause i wasnt dedicated enough to pursue my favorite hobbie,,,,,and lazy. But as my years in a treestand add up i enjoy more and more the peace of just sitting in a stand watching natures T.V. p.s. i always get my deer.                Dan

I just finished your blog, pretty good. The most enjoyable part for me on opening day is to sit beside my son brady and watch him get excited when that buck walks into view. He gets so excited that the first shot usually misses by a good country mile but the second one is on its mark. This year he will be on his own, so now i get to enjoy the same with my youngest son, Ray...                                                                        Jon

"Crappy" Weather means Crappie Fishing, or is it vice-versa?

(By : "bigshot" , www.MyFishingPage.com 4-24)

Well, not necessarily "crappy" weather, but in spring time, usually April, is when the crappie fishing heats up along with the water temperature.

So, like any weekend outdoorsman, I've got to get out there, just to justify my new fishing reel, which I convinced my wife was necessary, over morning coffee. I explained the ratio of  bite vs. catching speed based upon the number of ball bearings in the reel, etc. just to the point of noticing her attention span waning, good, now that I've covered that unnecessary purchase, I felt better about asking her if a new trolling motor might be a good investment too!

Escaping further justifications, I take off for my trusty canoe , and childishly jump in, pushing off the sandy shoreline, just then seeing the paddle waving at me from the front lawn!  O.K., this is an interesting millisecond response, either I blow really really hard or I'm gonna have to jump in the water before it gets any deeper and get me and the canoe back on shore.  Let's see, that took approximately 3 nanoseconds to decide that conclusion, yup, I'm soaking wet now, up to my knees, but thank God none of the neighbors saw me!  Whoops,except for the two guys in the $45,000 bass boat off shore!  Smart alecks, they don't have to laugh that hard.  Isn't spilling beers a sin in Wisconsin! Not that I'm drinking anymore...but that's another story!

Back to the fishing part... that is, after I re-grouped, twice,...cuz I also forgot my net, stringer, and the minnow bucket. This is so exciting, opening day you know!  Ah,... the wide open lake waters, just me and tranquility! That is, until the train went by, and the guy on the riding mower, come to think of it, between the freeway noise, the airplanes overhead, and the jet skiers, forget the tranquility part, after all this is Suburban fishing?  O.K., focus, I think to myself, this is why we work all week, so I can get out here on the water and out smart some fish with brains the size of a wart. Plan number one, get up to the edge of the shallows by my lucky pier, and get the canoe into perfect catching position, this would've been a lot easier with an anchor, (I think to myself, realizing the upcoming third re-launch is coming)! Aarrrgh, this time, I really take a good inventory, no more interruptions, I think, as I cast away from shore again!

"Back so soon honey?" my wife yells from her perch on the front deck... "No sweetie, I just wanted to "double check" if you wanted to join me this morning?"  Great come back, I think to myself, hiding my ill folly. "See you in a bit... miss you!"  That line should be good for at least a good hour I cleverly convince myself, paddling away waving kisses!

 O.K., back to my treasure chest spot, anchored in place, and only wasted about a half hour. So far, so good.  Darn! I forgot to place the minnow bucket over the side, half are floating on top, yeah, like you've never done that before!  So, flipping the dead and dying overboard to get chasing after the live ones, I'm thinking, (hey... we used to call this "chumming" in Louisiana)!  O.K., how come a minnow can out smart me and a net, as I'm spinning around and round the bucket, spilling half the water on my not so dry shoes. O.K., a minor victory, but I did get the biggest one. Now hold still, so I can focus my 51 year old eyes on the hook and target...ouch! , Try again! Got it! A flipping big minnow is about to make me a fishing terror as far as crappie are concerned.  I slide the stick bobber up about 18 inches, and cast away into the zone. Well, that is, after I untangle the first attempt that accidently wrapped around the pier post! O.K., so this probably wasn't the best spot to stealth attack,... we'll just move over to pier number two! 

 O.K., settled in, everything's right this time, lets get that first fish of the season, I ponder with anticipation casting perfectly within inches of the dock.  Plop...plop...yeah baby! Under for the third time, and gently setting the hook... "Bam!" resistance on the other end, and I'm ready for - "In-Fisherman", (I proudly award myself, as I spin my new reel into action)! I professionally handle the big guy swinging him upwards into the canoe. YES! First crappie of the year, and we're ready for the season's competition... "Buzz, buzz, buzz... what the???  Oh boy, this is our modern escapes into the "wild"... Cell phones... "Hello?"  Yes, What?  Uh huh! O.K., Yup, Be there in a minute,(some tough guy, I'm feeling)!  "Honey Do's"... take over beginning with my wife's dead car battery,... well maybe we'll consider this "a word from our sponsor" ‘Til next time, someone... please go get ‘em!?

Messaging responses!

You have skills as a writer. I really enjoy your stuff. I want to go fishing!!                            Scott

I caught your blog on your turkey stalk. I think you should write a book about your hunting experiences cuz you kept my attention really well. Me and my son went crappie fishing a few days ago brought home 6 ranging from 13 to 11 inches.                          Jon