Minnesota Sporting Journal Summer 2013

MINNESOTA’S PREMIER HUNTING AND FISHING MAGAZINE - Summer 2013

$4.95 US * $5.95 CAN SLOPPY BASS - MICHAEL WADDELL - BOWFISHING - ON THE WATER PHOTOS

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WE PUT THE OUTDOORS

E C A F R U IN YO Uh, your ears actually. + + + + + + + + + +

MNSJ RADIO NETWORK:

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PODCASTS LISTEN TO OUR ONE-HOUR RADIO SHOW THAT FOCUSES ON THE OUTDOORS IN MINNESOTA. HUNTING, FISHING HOTSPOTS, TIPS, DESTINATIONS, GEAR REVIEWS AND MORE.

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Photo by Ben Brettingen

TABLE OF CONTENTS FEATURES 10

BASS IN THE SLOP

BILL MARCHEL

The dog days bring the slop and slop brings the top water bass action!

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MAD CARP DISEASE Bret Amundson

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ON THE WATER: PHOTO ESSAY

Feeding the bowfishing addiction

A bad day fishing still beats a good day at work!

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MIDNIGHT ON THE MISSISSIPPI KATY TURNER

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FROM THE BACKWOODS

Catfishing and catching up on the river

MATT SOBERG

Fish tales from a guy named George

Find us at /mnsportingjournal or go to: www.minnesotasportingjournal.com 4

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Photo by Bret Amundson

COLUMNS CONSERVATION AND ETHICS

Mille Lacs, AIS, August Goose 8 SEASONAL OUTDOORS Musk-ie-less-ness

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PHOTO ESSAY

On The Water

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TIPS AND TRICKS Wingshooting Tune-Up

DAKOTA REPORT-ND Early Canada Goose

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DEPARTMENTS YOUTH MOVEMENT

Big Horn River Challenge

GAME MANAGEMENT When Doves Fly IN THE COMMUNITY

GAME FAIR

MNSJ INTERVIEW

Michael Waddell

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ON THE COVER: Walleye CPR - Photo by Ben Brettingen WWW.MINNESOTASPORTINGJOURNAL.COM

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AT THE END OF THE DAY Have you visited our website? Daily updates with blogs, pictures, DNR news and more.

A NOTE FROM THE EDITOR

After a long winter and wet spring, summer finally arrived. Bringing with

it thunderstorms, tornadoes and rising waters. Either our weather patterns are getting a bit more tempermental, or I’m just paying closer attention to it now that I’m spending more time year round in the outdoors.

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MNSJ is a quarterly publication.

To resubscribe, contact us: 218-209-2738 Bret@mnsportingjournal.com www.MinnesotaSportingJournal.com

This issue that you’re holding is my second here at MNSJ and I couldn’t be happier. I’ve always enjoyed the outdoors, but being able to do it as a full time job has allowed immersion in it 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Not only is it my job to spend time outside, but I recently moved down to the Lac qui Parle area and that has given me the opportunity to do many things in the last few months that I never had time for in the past. I’ll go over a few of those experiences in this issue.

One of them was going on a bird banding trip. I hooked up with the DNR and went in search of doves. If you thought those birds were small, you should see the bands! We’ve got some cool pictures and a story about the experience on page 45.

Bowfishing has also become more and more popular now, since it became legal to nightfish 5 years ago. I’ve been able to spend time on the water and on the radio with some of the guys who are out there doing it the most. Not only does it combine hunting and fishing into a huge ball of awesomeness, but it helps lower the population of invasive species and gives farmers some fertilizer. I wrote about that experience as well on page 18.

More and more experiences are coming and I hope to fill these pages with the pictures, stories and the people that I meet along the way. I enjoy summer, but my favorite time of the year is right around the corner. My bow and shotgun have been nagging at me to take them out, just like my lab, Mika. She’s been flushing roosters out of the ditches all summer getting tuned up for October.

Thanks for reading the MNSJ and as always, we hope to continue to bring you the best in Minnesota outdoors, through the world of photography and storytelling.

If you have a story, picture or suggestion, please pass it along. My contact info is in the upper right hand corner of this page. Now go spend some time outside!

bret “t-Bone” amundson

Publisher BYP, INC Editor Bret amundson Sales wade amundson Editing Services KRISTIN AMUNDSON KRISTIN FALOON Web Services WWW.LOGICSTEW.COM Marketing WWW.EARGRABBER.COM Contributors BEN BRETTINGEN, MATT SOBERG michael furtman, Bill marchel, Tayler Michels, SCOTT AMUNDSON, Katy Turner, Erik Thue, Ben Larson, Subscription Services WWW.MINNESOTASPORTINGJOURNAL. COM MINNESOTA SPORTING JOURNAL is a publication of Boneyardprod, Inc DBA BYP, Inc. POSTMASTER: Send change of address to PO Box 823, Moorhead, MN 56561. Oneyear subscription rates: $18.00 in the U.S., $30.00 for Canada (U.S. funds only). Twoyear subscription rates: $30.00 in the U.S., $47.00 for Canada (U.S. funds only).

All editorial submissions will be gladly accepted. Minnesota Sporting Journal does not guarantee against damage or loss of submitted materials. Any reproduction of all or part of Minnesota Sporting Journal without the express written permission of the publisher is strictly prohibited.

Copyright 2013 BYP Inc

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STAND ABOVE THE REST

www.eargrabber.com

VOICE OVERS - RADIO COMMERCIALS - ON HOLD MESSAGING - What can we SAY for you?

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CONSERVATION AND ETHICS

BRET AMUNDSON

CONSERVATION CONVERSATION Mille Lacs Smallmouth, August Canada Goose, and AIS dominate the morning coffee talk So far this summer we’ve heard the good, bad and the ugly about a number of things across the state of Minnesota. AIS, APR, Mille Lacs and Canada geese being the biggest topics I’ve heard about. Let’s start on the big walleye lake.

Resort owners and fisherman alike have been impacted by the new regulations. Fishing has been good, but not many walleye have ended up in the freezer. The DNR created more liberal bag limits for smallmouth and northern pike in hopes that it would create more opportunities for recreational fisherman trying to combat the tighter walleye limits. What’s happened is that a loyal group of fisherman have cried foul.

A website was started, www.savemillelacssmallmouth. com, created by a group of dedicated smallmouth fisherman who oppose the new 6 fish per day limit. We spoke with Janet Parker who worried that too many smallmouth would be taken out of the lake when only two walleye can be kept. Fishermen will want to take fish home and last I checked, smallmouth bass aren’t that bad eating. Check out the radio podcast on our website from 7/13/13 to hear more about what she had to say.

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There are a number of issues at work here. Is there one true answer? No. What we do know is that there will be no shortage of controversy surrounding the mighty Mille Lacs.

Within the last few years an early Canada goose season has become more and more popular within the hardcore waterfowl community. Whether it’s just another chance to get the decoys out and try to fool the big blackfoots or an actual tool to decrease the resident population of Canada geese is yet to been seen. Despite the fact that they were nearly extinct within our state back in the early 20th century, numbers are way over the DNR’s management goal today. The goose has adapted to the urban sprawl and gladly resides on public golf courses, protected city wetlands and soccer fields.

As with any other wildlife that has grown to an unhealthy population level, some sort of management is needed. I’ve heard from a number of biologists and hunters who offer varied opinions on whether or not a hunting season will actually help reduce the population. Some have wondered if it will decrease hunting opportunities once the regular season opens. Not every goose hunter can make it out during the early season and has plans for the opener at his favorite spot. There is potential that geese could be spooked out by the opening of the regular season.

Another argument is that hunters can’t possibly shoot enough to make a big enough impact.

The flip side is that Minnesota is following the lead the Dakotas have taken and created an August Canada goose season. It runs August 10th - August 25th and the bag limit is 10 birds per hunter per day with no possession limit. This is different from the season that begins in September. More info about the fall waterfowl seasons will come in August.

Aquatic invasive species (AIS) is a

term you may have heard a lot in recent years, but maybe didn’t pay close enough attention to. Since I wasn’t a boat owner, I really didn’t follow the laws as closely as I could have. But AIS is not going away anytime soon and it’s time that every outdoorsman starts to get serious about it. AIS not only affects the quality of area fisheries, but can dramatically lower the value of lake shore property. You or someone you know may have invested in a cabin up north that may hold special memories of fishing trips gone by.

Once those lakes get choked out with AIS, the fishing may become just a memory. Not only that, but the investment may not be worth as much anymore because of it.

What can you do? The basics of course, like pulling your plug, draining your live well and bait buckets and pulling all the weeds off your trailer. You can also educate yourself about AIS. There are a number of lake associations, in addition to the DNR, who are painstakingly trying to spread the word faster than people can spread AIS. Learn the “dos and don’ts”, learn how to identify AIS and start bowfishing. That’s what I did.

Bowfishing is a sport that’s taking off all across Minnesota. I’ve got an article about getting started in it on page 18. It’s a perfect blend of fishing and hunting: you “spot and stalk” with a bow, while on the water chasing fish! Plus the fish you’re taking out are invasive species that destroy the local habitat and local fish species. You can then take those rough fish and find a nearby farmer who will gladly accept it for fertilizer. Not too mention-it’s a blast.

Be proactive out there when it comes to conservation.

Pick up garbage along the way, be responsible and set an example for others. Not just for kids, but sometimes other adults need to see someone doing the right thing as well.

Most importantly, go spend time in the outdoors!

Bret Amundson is the publisher of Minnesota Sporting Journal magazine and can be heard every weekend on Minnesota Sporting Journal Radio. To find a station near you, visit www.minnesotasportingjournal.com

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SEASONAL OUTDOORS

Story and photos by

BASS IN THE SLOP Fishing largemouth bass in the slop

(an angler’s term for heavy emergent vegetation) is my favorite method of bass fishing. I enjoy not only the heart-stopping strike of a bass as it engulfs a surface lure worked deftly among the lily pads or duck weed, but also the challenge of attempting to accurately cast surface lures to bass holding cover. In other words, target casting.

During the retrieve I can visualize a lunker bass hiding beneath a layer of vegetation, its eyes tilted upward as it watches for unsuspecting prey. At any moment the water may explode as a bass chomps my lure. All of my senses are on full alert; eyes riveted to lure, ears attentively listening for feeding bass, arms taught ready to set the hook.

Slop fishing is attractive to me for esthetic reasons, too. Anglers who fish the slop for bass along undeveloped shorelines are often rewarded by close encounters with herons, loons, ducks and

This is an ideal bay to find a largemouth lurking beneath a matt of duck weed and lily pads. Note the lines showing where a surface lure has disturbed the duck weed.

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y Bill Marchel

A slop angler can expect to find bass in the thickest cover, in this case of mix of emergent and submerge vegetation.

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other water birds, as well as mammals like white-tailed deer, beavers, otters, mink and muskrats. To a realestate agent, a weedy, undeveloped shoreline means red ink at the bank. To a slop angler - and the bass and other wildlife that live there - a remote shoreline is priceless.

I’ll always remember a particular slop fishing foray that took place a few years ago. You know you’re having a fun day when a leaping largemouth bass on the end of a friend’s fishing line frightens a whitetail buck feeding along a nearby shoreline.

My friend was perched in the front of his boat casting to weedy bank. I was in the back of the boat with camera trained toward a nearby whitetail buck that was knee deep in water, nonchalantly feeding on aquatic vegetation. As I spun the focus ring on my

“THE BUCK LOOKED UP...JUST IN TIME TO SEE THE BASS LEAP HIGH IN THE AIR...”

A plus to fishing bass along remote, undisturbed shorelines is the wildlife you’ll encounter. Ducks, loons and yes, even the occasional whitetail buck.

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Sometimes hungry largemouth cruise the more open water outside of a bay filled with slop. It pays to make a few casts to the open pockets, especially during low light periods.

telephoto lens, I heard the water explode when a bass engulfed my buddy’s lure. The buck looked up - and so did I - just in time to see the bass leap high into the air in an effort to shake the hook.

After a brief battle, my friend reached over the side of boat and hauled the bass - along with a large gob of weeds - into the boat. When I glanced back the deer was gone.

“You scared the buck!” I jokingly said.

We quickly weighed the bass - which tipped the scale at 4 lbs. 5 oz. – and release it.

My friend’s bass was indeed a dandy, but incredibly it was the second largest fish of the day. Earlier that morning, I had caught a football-shaped largemouth that weighed 6 lbs. 1 oz.

On my first cast to the spot – a floating mat of duckweed and other vegetation – the giant bass attacked my weedless surface lure, but I failed to hook the fish. In its attempt to grab my lure, the big fish had blasted a beach ball-sized hole in the floating vegetation.

“That looked like a nice one,” my friend said. “Yeah, maybe it’ll hit again,” I replied as chucked the lure toward the hole in mat of weeds.

My cast missed the spot and the lure landed slightly to the right. Regardless, the bass smashed the lure and the fight was on. Immediately the lunker vaulted into the air in a head-shaking attempt to through the faux frog. I was stunned at the size of fish. Later, my friend admitted he was, too. I honestly thought the fish might go seven pounds.

Eventually, the giant bass became entangled in a mass of weeds and I hauled the whole works to boat side. I found the bass’ lower lip and hoisted the entire mass aboard.

Even after the fish was in the boat, I still thought it might be close to seven pounds. But a fish scale doesn’t lie. I stared in disbelief at the final reading – 6 lbs. 1oz. I then released the fish, which was only 21 inches long, but as fat as a bass can get.

Slop anglers generally prefer to use some type of surface lure built to simulate a frog or mouse. It is essential the lure be weedless. Forget any bait with treble hooks or even a single hook that is exposed. Popular among bass tournament anglers are lures made by Scum Frog, SPRO and Snag Proof. These lures utilize two upturned hooks guarded by the soft plastic body

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This five pound plus largemouth fell for a floating frog imitation fished atop the heavy slop in the background.

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of the lure.

A long stout rod is needed to haul a bass out of the thick weeds. I prefer a seven-foot ten-inch heavy action casting rod. A lengthy rod not only allows an angler to horse bass from heavy vegetation, but it also allows for long casts. Usually, when fishing shallow water, bass are most often caught at the end of a extended cast, perhaps 20 yards or more. Fish closer to the boat are apparently alerted to the sight and sounds of a boat intruding in their quarters. Most slop anglers use a casting reel loaded with one of the small diameter low-stretch braided lines in 30 to 50 pound test.

Usually when a bass hits a surface lure, the water explodes. But sometimes a hungry largemouth will just suck down the lure, creating a slurping sound similar to the kissing noise a sunfish makes when they suck a bug off the waters surface, only much louder.

Where does a slop angler look for bass? My fishing partners and I have discovered the best slop are usually the mats of floating vegetation, such as lily pads and duckweed, that extend from out in a bay all the way to the shoreline. But don’t discount the isolated patches of cover surrounded by open water.

We also have found the best slop is relatively clear of submerged weeds under the floating mat. The preferred depth seems to be from two feet to five feet of water. But, as in most angling, there are no hard and fast rules.

Bass in the slop feed on a variety

of prey from frogs and mice to crayfish and sunfish, even birds. Yes, birds. I once witnessed a sora rail (a small wading bird about the size of robin) get engulfed by a hungry bass as it scurried across a mat of weeds. Will the next bass lure on the market be the “Sora Lure?”

For a back to nature angling experience, try slop fishing for largemouth bass.

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GUNS AND DOGS WELCOME. As soon as I saw that sign, I knew I’d come to the right place. Last year was the first of what I hope to be many years at Game Fair. Someone described it as being like Valley Fair, only for hunters. That’s my kinda fair.

Once again, the Minnesota Sporting Journal crew will be manning our booth there. We had a great time last year and can’t wait to be surrounded by people who love the same things we do.

My lab Mika had a great time running the events, sniffing other dogs and picking up random scraps along the way. You can read about my experience with her in the Fall 2012 issue. She’ll be back and ready to work her way up the standings in the competitions. Other dogs are welcome to stop by our booth again while our photographers take their picture. See last year’s pictures on our Facebook page.

On a sad note, it won’t be the same without Tom Knapp there. If you missed the moving video tribute that was put together by his videographer, Jason Steussy, search for it at www.minnesotasportingjournal. com.

Visit www.GameFair.com for a schedule, exhibitor list and map. Look for the MNSJ booth to win free subscriptions and a chance to pick up back issues.

16 -Bret MINNESOTA SPORTING JOURNAL Amundson

P E R P T O L P FOOD What to plant, where to plant it and when. Those are the questions.

First things first, though: Why are you planting them.

Food plots have come a long way. The most common food plot is planted for whitetails. These can be a natural way to bring deer closer to you and with the proper plots; the deer can grow bigger and tastier.

Maybe you live in pheasant country and want to offer birds food and cover. There are a number of choices out there and the Pheasants Forever website (www.pheasantsforever.org) offers a comprehensive overview of various options depending on what type of land you have and what you’re targeting.

I’ve even seen some sloughs worked over to attract more ducks with millet and other waterfowl favorites.

Whatever you decide you want to do, you need an area to do it. You may need to clear some land to do it and there’s one call you need to make when you’re ready: 1-800-6302960. Jon and Angie Nelson at Wilderness Land Clearing and Mulching are the experts when it comes to preparing land for food plots. Not only do they have the equipment to get anything off the landscape, but they’re experienced in planting food plots and hunting over them. They can come out and take one look at your land and tell you exactly what you need to do to put more game in the bag this fall.

I’m all for increasing my odds every fall in every legal way possible.

Planting food plots not only tips the scales in your favor, but also offers all sorts of wildlife a healthy diet and valuable cover when the weather gets harsh. There’s still time to plant before the fall hunting season, call Wilderness Land Clearing today or visit their website, www.wildernesslandimprovement.com and get your land ready for food plots!

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: E S A E S I D P MAD CAR

N IO T IC D D A G IN H IS F W O B FEEDING THE

I

gotta fevah. And the only cure, is more bowfishing.

I can see how this can spawn quickly into an obsession. A few weeks back, I wrote about my first experience bowfishing on our website, www.minnesotasportingjournal.com. I’ve said it many times now, that I want to shoot everything with my bow. I quickly realized that if you get into the right circumstances on a lake, you can have action that’s faster and more furious than any stupid car movie.

Earlier this year, you may remember hearing about the 47.8 lb carp shot

by Matt Kargas and Jeremy Lewerenz of Minnesota Archery. (See the pictures on our website). They invited me to come out to Meeker County to stick some hogs.

One muggy night in June we met at their store in Litchfield so I could pick up my new bow. From there we went up the road a bit to drop off my truck in front of

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Story and photos

by Bret Amundson

some twine. Oh not just any twine, but the largest ball of twine in the world! The pride of Darwin, Minnesota.

“Zee Wango, Zee Tango, 1-2-3-4!” I suddenly had visions of Terrible Ted Nugent wearing a loin cloth swinging from the left side of my brain over to the right. The reason?

The boat we’d be hunting had “Wango Tango” scrawled in orange paint along the side. Instead, Ozzy Osbourne’s “Shot in the Dark” became the de facto theme song, as we’d be hitting the lake as the sun went down.

Bowfishing at night involves a few factors: 1) Darkness. You need lights on your boat. Not just navigational lights, but some sort of lighting system to light up the water. Those fish will glow like you’re in the backwater of a nuclear power station with the right lighting rig.

That also brings a heavy dose of buzzing creatures. But as long as you’re up above in the dark you should be fine as the bugs will hang under the platform near the lights. I’d wear long pants and long sleeves though. You should also be aware of your lights while around people’s homes and cabins. They’re probably trying to sleep.

2) Sleeping residents. That also means you need to keep as quiet as possible. Matt’s rig included a bank of battery-powered LED lights. They lit up the water like the Coast Guard, yet required no noisy generator to keep them operating. One landing was 10 feet from someone’s bedroom, so we employed the power load: Gettin’ in and out quickly and quietly! These guys had a system down.

Bring a headlamp, and be conscious of the residents of the lake. Then get ready to whack ‘em and stack ‘em! We fished two different bodies of water, and just like fishing for any species, you have to find the pattern. The first lake we hit held lots of big fish just two nights earlier, but this

Minnesota Archery is located in Litchfield.

Visit www.MinnesotaArchery.com for more information.

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day would prove to be tough. So we power loaded and headed off to a new location-one that seemed promising, but was the reason for the Ozzy song as Kargas and Lewerenz had never fished it before.

Jackpot. A shallow bay that narrowed to an outlet was full of carp, along walleyes, catfish and other species that were safe from our arrows. The Wango Tango patrolled the shoreline with 3 shooters set high atop the bow platform while the troller pulled us along silently like ninjas seeking vengeance. It’s literally hunting on the water-a spot and stalk approach. Once fish are spotted, aim low and let ‘er rip!

Big, spawning carp occasionally prove to be easy targets as they’ll sometimes stick around a little too long, but the smaller, narrow dogfish can be like shooting branches off an oak tree. Taking this fish out is not only fun, but provides a service as these invaders can be harmful to the native species and gamefish that we love. Dogfish can eat thousands of sunfish eggs and even the fish themselves.

C’mere little doggy!

Soon it was 1 AM and Kargas, who had a baby due that week, decided it was time to pull the plug. He had an early

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morning doctor’s appointment and I had an hour and a half of driving with the windows down and the radio cranked in front of me.

Our crew of Kargas, Lewerenz, Nick Besemer and myself power loaded our way out of the lake and headed back to the giant ball of twine, with plans to reel up our strings another day.

Bowfishing can be fun for the whole family, as Besemer recounted

Above left: Our boat in front of t ball of twine.

Above: Bret with a 26lb carp.

Above right: The “power load”

the story of his 8-year-old son outshooting him a few days earlier on the water. Stop into your local archery shop, because the workers are usually more than willing to help get you set up for bowfishing and introduce new people to the sport.

It’s also important to remember to be an ethical bowhunter. A lot of effort is being put forth to keep the sport from getting a black eye. Don’t dump your fish on shore or in the ditch. Or worse, in someone’s back yard. Many bowfisherman have found a farmer that will gladly take the carp as fertilizer. Find a local bowfishing club or contact the Land of Lakes Bowfishing Association (LLBA) for more information on being an ethical bowfisherman.

You can also listen to the LLBA president, Brian Petschl on our MNSJ Radio podcast for more about the sport of bowfishing, visit www.minnesotasportingjournal.com, click on “MNSJ Radio”, and look for week 38.

the

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Musk•ie•less•ness

Noun. \ˈməs-kēˈləsnəs’\ The inability to connect with swine muskie for a prolonged period of time.

Everybody at the Blue Goose Inn was pleased with the Fib’s bad case of muskielessness.

61 to SAG for 25

T

here are bad days fishing, bad years and then there are some down right terrible slumps. There is only one cure for this particular disease. Many have tried easing their pain with something around 90 proof, but all they end up with is a bad liver and a broken heart. I’ll explain a better way to get rid of such an affliction, but you could always try getting booted out of a lakeside bar around 2am after 1 too many umbrella drinks, attempt to stumble to your boat only to have your face greet the sand as your pillow for the night. I’ve seen them both!

Josh was stricken by just the disease. A disease so strong it could bring a man to the deck. At any rate he had suffered while I was able to weather the storm catching fish almost every time we were throwing the big stuff. Missed hook sets, boat side losses, blow ups you name it, it has

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happened to Josh.

It was time to quit this cruel mistress once and for all, cold turkey. The first time we could get out was the infamous super moon, which seemed like a perfect opportunity to end it, once and for all. I couldn’t help but thinking how terrible it would be to lift your hands to your nose and not be able to waft in the beautiful smell of fresh muskie slime for what seemed like eternity. For the sake of sanity, something had to be done.

The lake of choice for the night would be one of the metro’s finest, Lake Minnetonka. Within minutes of launching we were at our first spot, a mess of buoys interlaced with gorgeous green milfoil, forming perfect chiseled edges, leaving a multitude of ambush spots for Mr. June to strike. The clang of blades must have sounded like a dinner bell. We circled around the buoys, commencing with

STORY AND PHOTO BY BEN BRETTINGEN

off my extreme net man skills, as I lunged down into the waters just to see her shoot back down into the depths. “I can normally seal the deal on the first go round”, I thought to myself. “I can’t ruin this one?” Just as fast as the thought entered my head it was washed away with the thrashing of slime in the net. No sumo by any means, but it was a very special one none-the-less. It couldn’t have been a greater experience watching the sunset through my lens, with a muskie in hand, and nose once again filled with a scent muskie.

the monotonous task of casting and retrieving. Don’t take monotony for the lack of focus, as every move of the rod, change of speed was very deliberate.

The sun was sinking below the horizon, as the moon was surfacing 180 degrees from it, the water was glass calm, and for whatever reason, there wasn’t a jet ski to be seen or heard. Somebody upstairs must have at least been answering my prayers.

I wonder if Josh was wishing or cursing as his bucktail blew out of the water, a mistake often times ruining the cast. Lucky for us, he cranked down a little faster and upon the bucktails reentry into the waters of Tonka, Mr. June was waiting. The feeling is like nothing else to a Muskie fisherman’s hands, the cadence of a steady reel interrupted by the telltale rips of a connection. Josh buckled down, and horsed the fish boat side as I readied the net. I must have been

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ON THE WATER Photo essay: A bad day on the water still beats a good day anywhere else!

photo by Bret Amundson

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Photo by Erik Thue The Catch!

Photo by Bret Amundson

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Photo by Ben Brettingen

Photo by Bret Amundson

Summertime... and the livin’ is easy.

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Foggy Morning on Sag

by Scott Amundson

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“One must maintain a little bit of summer, even in the middle of winter.” Henry David Thoreau

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ATTACK OF THE MALLARD DUCKLING! Photo by Michael Furtman

ON THE WATER - PHOTO ESSA

eelpout is on the menu!

Photo by Ben Brettingen

Spring Struttin’ by Tyler Scott

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He’ll live to fight another day!

Smallmouth Photo by Ben Brettingen

AY

Summer afternoon, summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language.

Henry James

Charming the snake

by Bret Amundson

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Crappie!

Photo by Bret Amundson

James Holst from In Depth Outdoors with a toothy creature! By Ben Larson

Photo by Mike Lentz

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Erik Thue has his own set of teeth to deal with!

by Erik Thue www.erikthuephotography.com

Fly Fishing Photography

by Erik Thue

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WING SHOOTING TUNE UP

A six pack of honkers descend on the decoys.

Three guns eagerly await the final wing beats as they pop out of the blind. Everything goes according to plan, a flock down with shells still in the magazine. Everybody takes cover as one hunter signals a pair coming in on the deck. They lock up in identical fashion, but this time rise into the air after a bombardment from the three hunters.

This scenario plays out time and time again not only in the blind, but in most wing-shooting scenarios.

We miss birds, it’s a fact of life, but how do we improve?

Believe it or not, most shooting problems lie in mechanics. Wing shooting and golf have a lot in common, but many people learn to shoot by just giving it a shot and once they are proficient, they call it good. This is where it would differ from a sport such as golf, where extensive amounts of time are spend just hitting balls, and taking numerous lessons. Have you spent a day at the range with a professional, or even picked up a magazine off of the table with articles about improving your shooting? Until recently, I was also guilty as charged. I have learned mechanics are just as important for shooting as they are for golf. These simple ideas should leave you a better wing shooter.

The first is a solid foundation. Place your feet shoulder width apart, and picture a ruler running from your back right heel (if you’re a righty) to your front left toe in line with where you want to break the target. Your weight should be distributed 70% on the front foot and 30% on the rear. This is a crucial aspect, as many people tend to favor the back foot, which kills posture. To check your posture, picture a vertical line passing from your nose down through the front knee, ending on your left toe.

Secondly, 80% of all misses occur from a bad gun mount, so the mount must be important then, right?

You will start with the gun under the shoulder with the barrel at a slight incline. Next, move to mount the gun, raising it to the cheekbone, without dropping the head to the stock. The most common mistake is to raise the gun

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Ben Brettingen Photo by Bret Amundson

to the shoulder and drop the head onto the stock! Practice one fluid motion, so the gun fits right into your shoulder and cheekbone.

Now we have the essentials nailed down, and we are ready to start crumpling birds out of the sky. The holy grail of wing shooting is the lead. I have heard almost all of the adages about finding the correct lead, but I think I’ll leave out “a canoe length at 50 yards” and lean towards something a little more concrete.

Simple physics dictate the need to lead a moving target, nothing new there.

How we achieve this sight picture is a different story. I have learned to use three different types of achieving lead, and will discuss the two that cover 95% of my wing shooting.

The first lead, which I use most often, is the swing-through method. The basis behind this method is to move the gun faster than the speed of the target. “The speed of the gun allows the shooter to believe he is shooting directly at the bird as the muzzle passes, but by the time the brain tells the nervous system and you react, the gun is actually in front of the bird thus the lead is built into the swing.” The key as with any lead

acquisition is the follow through. Make this second nature, because it will be crucial for success. The swing through is so natural for me, it is my go-to for the majority of my decoying waterfowl shots.

In decoying and upland hunting, this is why I often never remember even leading a bird. It has become second nature to me. This lead acquisition is a great way for short distance shooting. It falls apart, as the target gets further out because the gun isn’t moving fast enough to establish a far enough lead.

This is where I incorporate the pull away method. The gun is mounted on the bird; you match the speed of the target, then pull the muzzle away to achieve the lead picture, and finally pull the trigger when the lead feels right. This method is often considered the most forgiving lead technique as your gun is traveling with the speed of the target.

I use this with longer shots, especially with a crossing target.

It really allows me to focus on the amount of lead needed for the situation.

As your dad probably told you, remember to follow through. Without it, all of these lead techniques are thrown out the window! Practice these simple techniques on the trap range or skeet field, and you should be a formidable predator this fall.

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YOUTH MOVEMENT

Big Horn Youth Adventure Photo courtesy of www.bighornriveralliance.org

We recently spoke with Doug Harthan from Front 20 Outfitters in Perham on our radio show to find out where we can fly fish in Minnesota. He gave us some great info about a whole slew of opportunites. You can listen to his interview on the MNSJ Radio page at www.minnesotasportingjournal.com (PODCASTS 7/6/13 – Week 43).

What we ended up hearing about was much more than that. He spoke of a once in a lifetime opportunity his grandson was able to be a part of. An all expenses paid fly fishing adventure on the vaunted Big Horn River in Montana. Only 12 kids are chosen each year from across the United States.

We asked Frank Johnson from the Big Horn River Alliance about the Big Horn Youth Adventure: How and when did the Youth Adventure get started? The Directors of the Bighorn River Alliance saw a need for fly fishing education.

After a great deal of thinking we made the decision to work with young people. We think that by working with and furthering their fly fishing education we might create and/or foster these youngsters to be ambassadors for our sport.

Who is it open to? Any youth, male or female, ages 14 thru 18. All applicants must ‘KIND OF’ KNOW HOW TO FLY FISH AND ‘KIND OF’ KNOW HOW TO TIE FLIES. We are seeking youngsters who want to experience the joy of a ‘big time’ fly fishing adventure and are willing to return home to mentor other young people and encourage others to take part in the great activity of fly fishing.

12 kids get chosen, how are they picked? The youngsters simply contact me for an application and fill it out. We have a committee who reads each application and scores the kids.

Do you have some success stories that have resulted directly from this program? Every youngster we have had with us IS a success story...

What cost is involved for someone who is chosen? The only cost to the attendees is the price of a ticket to Billings, Montana. If they can't afford it we will help them out with that as well. (With travel assistance grants) Does it take place at the same place every year? Yes, Fort Smith, Montana Are there plans to expand it beyond more than 12? No and no for sure. All the guiding, lodging, meals, licenses, transportation, tackle, fly tying materials are all donated by the angling community at Ft. Smith. We feel it would be an imposition to increase the numbers. We all become friends with 12 kids. That's enough... It is really hard work to put this thing together.

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To learn more, visit www.bighornriveralliance.org.

Photo by Bret Amundson

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I P P I S S I S S I M E H T N MIDNIGHT O STORY AND PHOTOS

BY KATY TURNER

Catfishing and Catching up on the River I’

m not sure what I look forward to the most when fishing on the Mississippi River at midnight. It may be talking to my dad about life as we float on the river. It very well might be the constellations so clear in the sky, the searching of the stars, my impossible mission to locate the Little Dipper. Relaxed, I try all night anyways, making up names for other shapes as I go. It could be the sounds-- the warm wind traveling through the beached cottonwoods or maybe listening to the grafittied trains as they slowly pass through the town. A favorite is hearing that first “zing” as my line speeds away screaming, the feeling of my pulse in my ears.

Of course the true rush belongs to the moment of setting the hook, of committing to a battle beneath the surface, of feeling the adrenaline in my throbbing muscles. This is where all the fun is.

I’m new to this, but I’m hooked. Except for when the local fishing tournament is on, no other boats are out here with us this late at night-- just the occasional barge. The flatheads seem to bite more now than during the day, which is perfect for me, since there’s nothing quite like solitude for a busy heart. People tend to stay away from the river after sundown it being a mysterious dark thing with creeping barges with blinding lights, but for me it’s just another part of catfishing.

When we plan a night out on the river, there are different tasks that need to be completed before we actually get in the boat, get in the water, and get fishin’. My dad prepares everything—poor guy. He makes sure the boat is in order, that there are life jackets, that the live well is working, that the sucker minnows aren’t belly up. “Hand me those poles,” he orders from inside the boat, waiting patiently as the heavy sinkers help me to get the lines tangled. I try to

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lift each huge pole off the rack on the wall. When I’m not bumping the reel against the one next to it, I’m dragging the tip of the pole against the boathouse’s ridged tin siding.

Finally, when I hand my dad all of the large poles worthy of a good jousting, he moves on to the next task. Between making sure we have working lights and a backup battery, he hands me the car keys to the Suburban, and I’m given the totally unrelated but vital fishing task of getting dinner. I drive to a shop and order a seafood sandwich for me because it brings me luck. When it comes time to order my dad’s sandwich however, I stare at the assortment of vegetables, holding up the line of people behind me, forgetting exactly what my dad wants. I panic. I cannot fail my only task! So I ask for a lot of black olives and everything but green peppers. My dad never complains.

After the boat is packed up and the cooler is stocked, it is finally time to leave the dock and get on the river. The boathouse fills with smoke as the motor starts humming. I push the choke back in quickly, guiltily enjoying the smell of the exhaust. There are spiders everywhere in this boathouse, but I try not to show any signs of squeamishness. I’m fishing now, so there is no time for that—unless of course, one is on me.

We cruise out with the setting sun, watching the depth finder for a drop-off the catfish prefer. We drop a couple anchors, cast a couple lines, and we catch up. Well, I suppose I should say I catch my dad up. “Dad, I don’t know

what I want to do with my life,” I complain, chatting away and exhaling all my pent-up questions and concerns. My dad offers his world-famous advice for all my insecurities. Finally, when I’ve run out of things to chatter about, I listen to my dad’s stories about his days working as a conservation officer. “As the truck driven by illegal road-hunters tried to make its way past my work car, it slammed into my door, and before I had time to even think about it, I jumped into their truck-bed, leaving a magazine-writer-my ride-along passenger-alone and freaking out in the front seat…” he says, and I sit there shaking my head, wondering how the world could be so crazy. I’m sure it’s quite a different experience when he’s out fishing with his buddies smoking cigars, but he still takes me. He still offers. And it’s the same old deal once there’s a fish on the line.

We are floating alongside the river, pigging out and leaning back in the cracked blue Lund chairs. It’s far past sunset— 10 p.m., and that means it’s biting time. Now is the time to be prepared. One needs to be ready for a bite.

After my dad looks at his watch and warns me that it is go time, I always try to sit up straighter and listen for the line to start zinging. Our bait-casting reels have clickers. When a catfish takes the sucker-minnow, I can hear the reel clicking away as it automatically lets line out. It gives me more time to react, more time to freak out. Spinning reels and their required focus, are too tough for my slow and panicked reflexes. The line doesn’t automatically release with those, nor does it make a sound—just the slow bobbing of the pole.

There are bells you can attach to the tip of spinning reels,

and they will jingle when a catfish bites, but you still have to be fast because if you’re not attentive, if you’re too slow or the drag is set too tight, the line or pole can snap.

“I didn’t pay attention once,” my dad told me. “All of a sudden a fish took the bait and kept going with it until the pole was bent toward the water in a c-shaped arc. The fish let go, and the pole’s momentum forced the bell off the tip of the pole, catapulting it above the river and into the night, jingling all the way.” I haven’t tried anything but the baitcasters, and I’m not sure I want to. I’m sure I’m not ready.

Even with these handy poles, I am always caught unawares, staring at the dark form of a log floating by or cool-looking ripples in the current. I always end up frozen, staring at the spinning reel, my heart pounding.

“Oh! We got one, we got one! Grab it!” I hear, and a

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few long moments later I stand hovering nervously before my humming pole, still taking too long to finally pick it up and out of its holder. “Now just let the fish take it; let it run, and when it stops, feel it tug, tug, tug,” Dad says.

“Now set the hook!”

The end of the pole is pushing into my stomach, threatening to form a bruise on my soft belly.

My face is slowly getting warm. I only half realize I’ve been babbling the entire time I’ve been reeling this fish in. I’m sure I’m explaining that the huffing breathing noises and my struggled reeling are due to the fact that this fish feels like a 100-pounder. I’m sure little squeals escape me as the fish again takes more drag as it shoots off in another bout of defiance. Finally I can see the smooth, river-colored skin of the catfish as I bring it closer to the boat. My dad grabs the net once he realizes what kind of catfish it is. (The channel-catfish is harder to get in the boat, their jaws seemingly made out of solid metal, crushing your hand between their gills as they twist. The flatheads are easier to get out of the water.

You just stick your hand in their mouth and pick them up like a suitcase. A suitcase that wiggles.)

The fish looks like a dinosaur-something that has escaped evolution and the passing of time in the deep recesses

of this murky river. Smiling, I see a camera flash, and it stays with me for a few minutes in the dark. I look at the giant, squishy, slimy prize dangling in my grasp. If it didn’t take me two hands to hold it up, I’d have a hand petting its smooth sides. They are so incredibly cool to look at. They are so fun to touch. When we release it, I immediately want to catch another one and another one. I want to hook another sucker and practice casting with the bait-casting reels once more.

It’s only midnight.

I want to come out here every night this week to practice and to float with my dad until I have nothing more to ask him, until he has no more stories to share. I want to catfish forever, until I understand the designs of the stars in the sky, the barge schedule, and the perfect catfishing spots.

I want to keep fishing so the next time my dad agrees to take me out on the Mississippi River, I can do more than just buy the sandwiches.

“The Fish looks like a dinosaursomething that has escaped evolution....”

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GUIDED WATERFOWL, DEER, DOVE AND PHEASANT HUNTING AT LEGENDARY LAC QUI PARLE IN WESTERN MINNESOTA

THOUSANDS OF PRIME ACRES TO HUNT! HUNT THOUSANDS OF NEARBY PUBLIC ACRES TOO! OUR RATES INCLUDE ON SITE LODGING, BREAKFAST, GUIDED HUNTS OVER LARGE DECOY SPREADS IN PRE-SCOUTED FIELDS. WE ALSO FEATURE A GAME PRESERVE FOR PHEASANT HUNTING - NO MEMBERSHIP REQUIRED. WE OFFER PRIVATE HUNTING PARTIES AND NEVER JOIN DIFFERENT GROUPS OF HUNTERS TOGETHER. OUR LODGE INCLUDES A BAR/RESTAURANT/HOTEL/FREE WIFI ALSO PERFECT FOR WEDDINGS, REUNIONS, ANNIVERSARIES AND MORE! CORPORATE HUNT RATES AVAILABLE.

VISIT WWW.WATSONHUNTING.COM OR CALL 42 MINNESOTA SPORTING JOURNAL 320-269-9136 TO BOOK YOUR HUNT!

DAKOTA REPORT-ND It was August 2011, early goose season along the upper Missouri river. Forty degrees was a welcomed chill while setting up decoys in the darkness that Saturday morning.

There were only two of us willing to wake up for the hunt that day. Our destination was a harvested pea field that had shown good numbers of geese frequenting the area. With our anticipation of good luck on high, Taylor aka Moostafa and I set up the decoys with haste and worked hard to blend in the blinds. With what should have been a traditional morning of shooting at decoying birds turned into a chaotic morning that tested our loyalty to the waterfowl hunting nation.

Anyone that has hunted a pea field knows the challenge that it is to hide the blinds in it. Unlike late season corn fields that have plenty of cover to hide in, these early season conditions have limited options, and peas are in some cases the only harvested crops at this point in the year. Geese love to eat peas but since we didn’t have permission from the landowner to dig pits, we spent the majority of the morning stuffing the exterior of our layout blinds with whatever trash the combine had left behind-- which wasn’t much. After some morning coffee, the geese were in the air about 9:00, headed our way. They were roosted about a mile and half away on the river so as soon as they were in the air, they were visible and on our radar.

As the bluebird skies looked down on us, so did the first group of geese, dropping their landing gear and heading right for our modest decoy set up. With the fever of early goose season rushing through our veins, seconds away from blowing open the doors on these seemingly unsuspecting geese, they flared hard. Obviously they saw our blinds and wanted no part in our set.

After the third group showed the same reaction and no shots fired, we knew changes needed to be made fast. With geese in the air we frantically scoured the earth for more camouflage to put on our blinds, made adjustments to the decoys--all in desperation to hopefully fool the next group that we could already see on deck. In the flurry of adjustments, it became clear instead of real that our hopes of decoying the geese all the way into the kill zone might

TAYLOR MICHELS

not happen with our blinds so exposed. We told each other if this continues soon our only real hope of stacking up a few birds was possibly calling for some loooong shots to be made. With that, we decided to call shots on any flaring geese within any sort of range of our gun barrels.

We spent the rest of the morning calling shots on flaring geese at long ranges knocking down a few at a time.

Cycling through more ammo than any early goose hunt should require, we were exhausted of ideas to make these geese cooperate with our program. We were sweating in a more familiar August heat as the clock struck noon and the thermometer was showing 70+ degrees; a far cry from the comfortable temperatures earlier in the morning. We continued to battle these birds with aggressive shooting and perseverance as they approached our decoys over and over only to flare or land in other parts of the field. We truly felt as if we kept getting knocked down in a boxing ring and foolishly kept getting up; clearly we were on the losing end of this battle. This was not the first “tough” hunt either of us had been on but surely at this point in our hunting careers we would know better than to put ourselves through another unsuccessful goose hunting situation such as this.

At this point we had been long ranging the birds for the last three hours and to our surprise, we had nine birds in the bag. After all the hunting anguish we had been through watching hundreds of birds come and go from our decoys, nine birds seemed to be a great consolation as we were trying to make a decision on whether it was time to go home

Photo by Bret Amundson

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Michels and Moostafa in the Morning!

Sounds ike a radio show!

yet or not. The limit was eight birds apiece and to be just over half our daily limit felt pretty good. As any waterfowler would tell you, that moment you decide it’s time to go get the truck you always take one more look in the sky for any last birds that might make a late appearance.

Sure enough as we are ready to pack up, three geese headed our way on the horizon, putting us right back in our own misery, sitting in our blind waiting for them to take that familiar path in the sky that all the others had taken around the decoys and out of range. We waited with a tired patience hoping these three birds would make their move quickly so we could be on our way, comfortably knowing we gave it our all. To our surprise this last trio of birds showed no signs of flaring as they approached our set. The feet started to drop and our grips grew tighter on our gun stocks until it was time to call the shot.

Beautifully gliding into the “kill zone”, we spared no shots putting all three birds down. I suppose it was good luck coming back to us in a small dose as we had failed miserably on getting any other birds in the decoy spread all morning. Now in the last moments of the hunt with our confidence in limbo we delivered a knockout punch to three honkers, capping off a tough hunt with 12 birds--a daily harvest that any two hunters could be very proud of, and proud we were. Not so much proud of our failures to effectively decoy the birds, but of our commitment to each other to persevere through frustrating conditions and find opportunities to get birds when cutting your losses and heading home seemed to be the intelligent thing to do.

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It was a great day in my hunting career and with lots of lessons learned and another story to tell, we took a quick picture to document the morning and headed home for a much needed snack.

GAME MANAGEMENT

“W

BRET “T-BONE” AMuNDSON

WHEN DOVES FLY

e’ll go out in the evening when it cools off, so meet me at 4:30.” Those were the instructions from Minnesota Department of Natural Resources Field Technician Dan Zimmerman. I had to question his belief that it would actually cool off in the evening as the forecasted overnight low was 80 degrees. I replied that I wouldn’t be able to make it that early and wondered why it needed to be in the afternoon if our plan would really take shape that evening.

These would be the first of many questions I’d ponder during my first excursion dove banding.

I originally wanted to tag along during a trip to wrap strips of aluminum around a duck’s leg. Those trips tend to get popular and space ran out before I was able to get involved. Instead I was given the opportunity to learn more about the mourning dove.

I really didn’t know much about doves. I’d seen them

on rooftops, telephone wires and along roadsides. I also knew I wanted to hunt them this fall because they’re everywhere out here. I’m living next to the wildlife-rich Lac qui Parle area of western Minnesota and there is no shortage of the small, gray birds.

I met Zimmerman at the DNR headquarters and hopped into his red, state-owned vehicle and bumped down a gravel road. I found out that he had already set out rectangular traps made of wire and held together by zip ties.

Two entry holes allowed birds to get in, but not back out.

A bait mixture of millet and wheat enticed the birds inside.

There were 12 bait sites with 15 traps that we’d be checking.

It would take around an hour to visit all the sites, pull birds from the traps, check for sex, age and the one molt feather doves have, then head to make another round. It’s not uncommon to band a bird in one trap, and come back to find new birds in it later in the evening. In fact, one

Photo by Bret Amundson

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Photos by Bret Amundson

lucky trap held 3 birds that were banded and released, then 10 minutes later had already caught another one. Doves may be pretty, but they clearly suffer from terrible short term memory. (We also released a dove that had been banded a couple of days ago-you’d think he would have learned.)

We made the rounds quickly as the mercury had risen to the upper 80s. The birds can get a little stressed in the heat if left in the traps for too long, so Zimmerman was also careful to release them quickly after capturing the data and wrapping a tiny metal band around their tiny little leg. Luckily for us, we spent most of the time in the airconditioned pick up. Glad the state didn’t skimp on extras for this truck.

For the next few hours, we’d run through the banding routine. Then they’d be released with the familiar whistle that can be heard when doves fly.

These birds will travel as far as Mexico and back. Well some of them will come back, while others may find a hot Mexican grill. Their tiny metal bands instead revealing their journey from western Minnesota.

Zimmerman banded around 200 birds last year and seemed to be well on his way to hit that number again this year. The banding season goes around a month, from July into early August. To see more pictures and read more about my day with the doves, visit www.minnesotasportingjournal.com For more information on bird banding in your area, check with your local DNR office.

Photo by Bret Amundson

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MNSJ INTERVIEW

MICHAEL WADDELL

The Bone Collector himself makes a stop in Litchfield MNSJ: Why are you in Minnesota?

MW: We started this last year, mainly because these dealers have been such supporters of the Bone Collector brand and the people, the avid archers and hunters who come in the shops. For us it’s more of a vacation but also a way to say thanks to all the people who support these shops. We’re just hanging out and laughing, it’s like one big family reunion because we all hunt, and we all shoot bows and just talk about hunting and the outdoors. There are some stories, some of the are true (laughs), and of course hunting is the only sport that you can exaggerate, almost just lie, and get away with it. We’ve done everything but build a big campfire here today.

MNSJ: Where did the idea of The Brotherhood Bus Tour come from?

MW: I was on vacation a couple of years ago, driving a jeep that I had fixed up and it had these big mudders on it and we couldn’t go 40-50 miles before we were worn out from muscle-ing that thing around like a big mule, so we’d stop in Alabama and Florida, in these little bait shops and sporting good stores, mainly for a place to rest. But I knew it’d be a cool place to meet some fun people. We’d end up telling a few stories and some stories it would almost turn into a party.

MNSJ: For those that don’t get the Outdoor Channel, tell us about the Bone Collector TV show. Can you watch shows online?

MW: We do have some episodes online…we have the

DVD’s across the country at the retailers. We have had so much fun with the TV show and with everything going on in the industry right now, we just want to keep it a hunting show. That’s our passion, even though hunting can be very entertaining, we just want to hunt. And show how much fun it is in these hunting camps: the jokes, the ribbing, and the cutting up. When you make good shots and bad shots, we want to show it all and have a good time. We’re not doing any TV show to get famous, so we can sign a few more camouflage hats. We’re doing it because we feel like hunting is worth celebrating and if one person watch our show and say, “I want to go hunting because that looked fun,” then that’s why we do a hunting show.

MNSJ: What do you think about when you plan out your show for a new season?

MW: Bowhunting big whitetails is such a passion all across the country. From Washington state down to southern Florida and up to Maine. Everyone seems to like whitetails, so I think if you’re going to have an outdoor television show, you have to hunt whitetails. The number one rule is we’re always going to hunt fair chase conditions, we’re not going to hunt any high fences or any closures, not that we’re against that, if someone wants to do that, they can do that. For the most part, every hunt is different. Every deer is gonna come in a different trail it seems or a different way, so we’ll go back to some of the same places. So sometimes we don’t change a lot, but of course we put in a lot for public drawing tags and we never know if we’ll get those or not.

We know we’ll do a lot of whitetail hunting, we know we’ll do a lot of elk hunting because that’s just a passion-an adrenaline rush, and we try to throw in 3-5 really high adventure, on the edge of survival type hunts. We might go to Alaska where it’s not really the animals to fear, but Mother Nature.

MNSJ: Have you hunted Minnesota?

MW: I have not, I have not and I’m almost ashamed to say that, because I’ve been through this state so many times. This state celebrates hunting as good as any state in America. I’m just blown away by how many kids have been coming out. That’s so refreshing because when you see their excitement.

When they’re nervous to meet me, that’s because they passionately love

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hunting. For me, that’s way bigger than them coming to see us, that just excites me to see how much they love hunting.

MNSJ: Thanks for the time.

MW: It’s just so good to see the number of hunters growing all across the country. I believe strongly that hunting doesn’t make you big and bad, it’s just really cool and big and bad that we get an opportunity to hunt. We don’t need to be macho about it, people don’t need to be better than one another, you don’t have to have 17 gallons of face paint and you don’t need to be able to do 400,000 push ups to get out there and hunt and fish. From women, children, big, tall, short, fat, rich, broke, everyone has this opportunity, the good Lord gave us this renewable resource so get out there and hunt and fish. A lot of these animal activists don’t want this people out there hunting because they don’t understand it. I ain’t never seen Peta out there shuckin’ beans to give to the homeless, but I see hunters all across this country from Minnesota to Florida to Montana, they get these renewable resources and give them to those in need. We’ve had the opportunity to do that and it warms my heart, so when these animal activists start putting actions into situations where they’re really giving back instead of whining like a bunch of puppies, then maybe I’ll have little more understanding for them. I’m proud to be a hunter, the whole Bone Collector crew are proud to be hunters,

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we make no excuses for hunting because it’s a God-given right and I’m just really proud to be in a situation where we can go out and buy a hunting and fishing license and get out there and enjoy what’s out there for us. *This is an edited version of the full interview. To hear the full interview, visit the podcast section at www.minnesotasportingjournal.com

Left: Nick Mundt, Michael Waddell, Bret “T-Bone” Amundson and Travis “T-Bone” Turner.

Left: We think he had the Bone Collector guys autograph the right item!

Below: Michael Waddell and Bret Amundson record for Minnesota Sporting Journal Radio.

FOR MORE INFORMATION ABOUT MICHAEL WADDEL, CHECK OUT:

www.BoneCollector.com

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Matt Soberg

FROM THE BACKWOODS

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hen you’ve never left central Minnesota . . . ever . . . chance meetings with those from other cultures can expand your outdoor horizons, or if nothing else, simply make you laugh. ***

We always greeted each other with the usual song and dance . . .

“Doctor,” I’d say extending my hand.

“Counselor,” George would reply with a nod and firm handshake.

The encounters seemed rather normal, except when you look back and think that George was a chiropractor and I was a “recovering lawyer” turned magazine editor – quite a laughable combo.

Ol’ George was a gentleman I’d met through my publishing travels. A five-and-a-half foot tall red-haired Irishman from Kentucky – an interesting combination in and of itself – once a boxer and now a healer, he had an insatiable eagerness to tell stories and educate, which made him a novelty and a pleasure of an acquaintance and friend.

“Listen . . . Minnesota boy,” George started with a trueblue Kentucky dialect. “You think you’re a grouse guy, but I was the intramural trap shootin’ champ back in college.”

Initially, this fact I didn’t dispute. However honestly, a bit of doubt crept across my mind when he opened the closet door and pulled out his “trap gun”, which was a self-camouflaged boltaction shotgun with at least a 30-inch barrel. I grabbed it from him and while trying to check the sight plane, I thought this was the heaviest firearm I’d ever handled. He had it choked super-full which screamed ol’ school turkey gun through and through.

“I beat the reigning champ by one with this gun,” he boasted.

I didn’t respond, only smiled, but jokingly thought he must’ve relied on his favorite “blue ribbon” aiming oil to give him an edge. ***

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Of course, George had a story or explanation for everything. I started documenting George’s wisdom – you couldn’t make up his stories – they were too good.

A couple of my favorite “Georgisms” came from fleeting comments in the fishing boat . . . .

One time, we were talking bird hunting and gun dogs, as I often liked to sway the conversation, and George mentioned, “Did you know that it is illegal to shoot ravens in Alaska?” (Oh yeah, I forgot to mention George was a lumberjack in Alaska for a few years, which is whole separate article).

Before I could reply with, “No . . . why would I ever know that?”, he exclaimed, “Yeah, one time, I got five of those birds in one shot.”

Oh, George.

The other time, we were talking about girls and relationships, and his mind fluttered back to past girlfriends and “the one that got away”. He talked about how much he liked her personality. He actually said that, but his last comment, though, proved what he probably missed the most.

“Her Wranglers were so tight you could read the year on the quarter in her back pocket,” he joked.

Yep, that’s George.

***

Anyway, when you’ve never lived outside of Minnesota, your perceptions on the world, and specifically the outdoors, are extremely narrow – at least for me they were. Angling for walleyes on a Minnesota lake from a Lund boat with a jig and shiner was the only way to fish . . . right?

I never thought I’d learn some of the most important fishing lessons of my life from an Irishman from Kentucky, but it happened. He had a boat, and during every second of his free time, he was fishing. He fished and fished, and I don’t think it ever really mattered what he was fishing for.

I’d bring up fishing, and he’d tell me a story from his past.

I’d talk a Minnesota fishing tactic, and of course, he’d do it a different way and would tell me about it. Stuck in my Minnesota ways, I often times let his seemingly crazy tips go in one ear and out the other. That is, until he started sending me photos of his recent catches.

This guy was a great fisherman, and what he was doing worked. He’d show me stringers of walleyes and smallies. He’d send me phone photos of him holding up a sagging musky or weighty catfish. He even found a hybrid striped bass hole, of which he wouldn’t disclose the location, of course. His photos made me jealous, but proved he knew what he was doing.

To George, chiropractic care was the cure-all for all that ails humankind. To start a business and attract clientele, you must be a salesman to a certain extent, and I give George credit for it – he could sell beef steaks to a vegan. I once witnessed him adjusting our waitress on a pool table at Walker’s Pub in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

His favorite fish cover was the Ohio River. He’d put his boat in just minutes down the hill from his place, and he’d fish for hours. The trick was he relentlessly fished. Whether it was his technique or simply his determination, he caught fish.

This was the lesson I learned good ol’ George. Why wasn’t I doing that? I worked too much, and that was my excuse for not fishing. When you see these guys with their “grip and grin” shots, it isn’t because they’re getting lucky. It’s because they are putting the time and effort to get in the right position to catch fish.

Yeah, George is that good.

When I last spoke to him, he was hoping to make a deaf man hear through his chiropractic work . . . and knowing George . . . he’ll do it. *** Matt Soberg is the editor of the Ruffed Grouse Society magazine and splits his time missing birds and losing fish between Minnesota and Pennsylvania.

I’d like to grip and grin more often.

I learned quickly that I was working hard on work but wasn’t working hard enough on fishing, and thank you George for teaching me outdoors determination. ***

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