Fishing isn’t necessarily about numbers but when the sun sets and you’ve brought maybe three fish to hand compared to thirty that were caught by the eight year old fishing in the boat next to you, on what you consider one of your home waters, you can’t help but take notice.
The subsurface safari that is our backyard helps keep the squirt in the sun, off the couch and out of our hair. And wouldn’t you know it… the worms are even helpful for catching the occasional fish.
The buck, an honest thirty incher, now hangs in my garage. Grandpa is gone. So now I tell the story to my kids… when they’re not out building their own memories with their grandpa.
Before its hollow bottle baritone – “H’hoohoohoo… hoo… hoo” – interrupted the predawn stillness of a snow-draped January morning, I’d done most of my “bird watching” down the barrel of a 12-gauge shotgun. In fact, I was only in the backyard at four a.m. as a potty-break escort for our weeks-old Labrador, my new bird dog in training.
“Dada, Dada, look! Is that chukar poop?” asked the kindergartener. “Not sure son. It’s bird poop, for sure, but probably not chukar poop. Hard to say.” “Well if it is, than we’re in a goooood hunting spot, cause there’s LOTS of it!” The cards were stacked against us. We knew that much going in., Read More
“Dada, is this one pokey?” “Yep.” “Um… cause it’s got a hook on it?” “They all have hooks son. Careful.” “Ok, I will. But then… if I get poked a little… then um… then I’ll just be brave. Ok Dada?” The next day would bring the year’s first fishing trip and we had some, Read More
“We don’t eat the feathers, cause see that would be silly, right Dada?” “Right.” “Yeah, cause we only eat the meat, and feathers aren’t meat and… and… um… cause see the meat’s on the inside!” The duck we were plucking had only hung for a couple days. I’d planned on waiting longer to breast, Read More
I knew dawn, when it finally broke, would be anemic and gray – little help in driving the cold from the house. Too bad, I thought. I needed all the help I could get. The sun hadn’t cleared the mountain yet, but already I was behind: behind on the errands, the house chores, the, Read More
“How are the fish doing?” a small voice piped up from the back seat. “Huh?” I replied. “You know…how are their homes doing?” “Oh…you mean where we helped on that project last summer?” “Uh huh” Seven months had passed, but it is remarkable what sticks in a five year old’s mind. My daughter and, Read More
To say he wanted to hunt badly would be an understatement. I wasn’t sure we were going to make it a reality. Until we did. Despite his enthusiasm he conked out in the backseat as we headed down progressively smaller roads, for an evening deer hunt. We pulled up to the ranch and began glassing. Ignoring, Read More