Mountain Home, April 2023

By Don Kelly

14 Baiting Brook Trout

By Don Knaus

More than one kind of dry spell.

20 Spring’s Beautiful Brevity

By Marshall Nych

A season of fish, fly balls, and childhood memories.

24 Every Picture Tells a Story

By Steve McCloskey

26 Mother Earth

By Gayle Morrow

Busy as a...well, you know.

34

Back of the Mountain

By Matthew Stevens

Spring slides home.

Fish, Gump, Fish!

By Don Kelly

Wellsboro’s Colegan Stiner is already a champion afishionado.

Waterfall Whisperer

By Lilace Mellin Guignard

Kevin Fishburn builds beauty and healing into his waterscapes.

A Piscivore’s Dilemma

By Richard Soderberg

Doc’s notes on eating fish and his recipes for that purpose.

Cover photo courtesy Jan and Dinate Stiner, cover design by Gwen Button. This page (top) Colegan Stiner, couresty Jan and Dinate Stiner; (middle) Kevin Fishburn by Lilace Mellin Guignard; (bottom) by Richard Soderberg..

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Fish, Gump, Fish!

Wellsboro’s Colegan Stiner is Already a Champion Afishionado

By Don Kelly

The fog lifts on Nessmuk Lake as Colegan Stiner sends a topwater frog soaring through the air. Through polarized sunglasses, the sixteen-year-old Wellsboro Area High School sophomore—those who know him best call him Gump— watches as it splats into the weed mats. His rod tip twitches back and forth, walking the frog through floating vegetation. Beneath the surface, a hungry bass lurks, waiting for an easy meal. The frog stops, lying motionless for just a few seconds. Another twitch, and the water erupts as a bucket-mouthed beast breaks the surface, engulfing the lure. Colegan pauses a second, reels in the slack and yanks, setting the hook on a largemouth bass. What looks like a scene straight from the Outdoor Channel is just an average day in the life of this Tioga County local and 2022 Pennsylvania State Champion Bass Angler.

See Gump on page 12

The not-end of the rainbow: Colegan shows off a rainbow trout before releasing it back to the wild waters of Pine Creek.

Calm, cool, and collected, Colegan wrestles the bass out of the weeds like he’s done so many times before. His dad, Jan Stiner, quickly grabs the net and scoops up the catch. His son’s humble demeaner magnifies a big smile as he reaches into the net and hoists the bass up for a quick picture before releasing it back to the lake. For Route 287 travelers passing by Nessmuk, seeing Colegan working a shoreline with a frog or dragging a jig on deep offshore rock piles is a common sight. Born with a love of water, Colegan spends every spare minute that he can pursuing fish with his family and friends. When he’s not in school or working at Dunham’s Do-It Center hardware store in Wellsboro, he immerses himself, sometimes literally, in the local fisheries.

Fishing gets him up in the morning, and it’s what he dreams about at night. He’s up at the crack of dawn and on the water until someone says, “Hey, we gotta go.” “Sure thing, just one more cast,” he’ll likely reply. Another hour will pass as that last cast turns into dozens more. A real angler knows they can’t leave the fish when they’re biting. And if they’re not? Well, maybe that next cast might be the one. If not that one, then maybe the next. Some might call it an addiction, but this one clears the mind and is good for the soul.

Traveling the river of time: Jan Stiner takes young Colegan fishing (top); a brown trout caught with one of Colegan’s Customs jigs (center); Colegan Stiner and Connor Kapp (l to r) make up the 2022 Wellsboro Bassmasters, the state champion high school team that is headed to nationals this summer.

Colegan loves bass fishing and the waters where he can find those fish. Second to that, he loves trout fishing, and his favorite place to fish for trout is Pine Creek. Particularly the catch and release stretch around the village of Slate Run. No matter the conditions, whether spring or the middle of winter, Colegan loves wading the canyon armed with his trusty centerpin setups. His rods measure more than twice his own height, and curious observers often watch in disbelief as he propels a float through the air with perfect timing and a unique motion. Although a common tactic for steelhead and salmon, float fishing like this on Pine Creek isn’t familiar to most anglers. Just ask, though, and Colegan willingly shares his technique and leader setups. The rigging methods match the water conditions perfectly, and as the line slowly peels off the reel it’s easy to see how fish can’t resist his offering. Watching his float drop time and time again quickly proves to skeptics that it’s a deadly tactic here.

Especially when paired with his hand-tied “Colegan’s Customs” jigs.

Like fly anglers tie their own flies, Colegan lashes feathers to a bead-headed hook, thereby creating his own custom marabou jigs. While other teens play video games, Colegan spends many of his evenings patiently refilling his boxes one jig at a time, prepping for the adventures ahead. Box after box overflows with myriad color combinations in different weights and sizes. Many are crafted for catching Pine Creek’s big browns and rainbows. Others are specifically tied to tempt salmon, steelhead, and lake-run browns on the Great Lakes tributaries. While most stay tucked away in his personal boxes, Colegan is starting to dabble in selling some commercially. Soon, he plans to have small assortments available in local sporting goods stores.

What started as simply some relaxing time out on the water has turned into a full-blown passion for chasing fish and for the

Gump continued from page 6

intimate details that go into successfully catching them. That’s his favorite part about it, too.

“The result of catching a fish directly depends on the work you put in,” Colegan says. “It’s a reflection of the time you spend. Persistence and determination lead to good results.”

After one of last year’s trout tournaments with his son, Colegan’s father, Jan, reported on his Facebook page that “…he kept me on my toes all day...he caught six fish in the first hour and then the trout stopped biting completely for everyone! Gump flipped a switch and went to work on a half-mile stretch...and started picking off trout behind every big rock on the stream in six inches of shaded water. A guy told me this weekend… ‘in my seventy years, I’ve never seen a man, let alone a fifteen-yearold kid read water like that kid does.’”

Be True to Your School

That persistence and determination was undeniable as he started chasing dreams in the tournament scenes. His smiling face and focused gaze became a staple at local kids’ derbies and trout tournaments across Pennsylvania, where he competed successfully. Then, in the summer of 2021, Colegan dipped his toes into the competitive bass fishing world, getting involved with the PA B.A.S.S. Nation High School and Junior High Fishing Series.

Competitive bass fishing is relatively new to high school sports, particularly in Pennsylvania. Though not the most publicized sport, its popularity continues to expand nationwide. The concept is simple. Two-person teams gather at a given lake and compete to bring the five biggest bass back to the scales in a specified time frame. Anglers must catch their fish using artificial lures, and fish are expected to be released after the event. Teams earn points throughout the season based on their finishes. At the end of the regular season, points leaders move on to regional and national events.

With the help of his parents, Jan and Dinate Stiner, and support of the community, Wellsboro Bassmasters was founded as the first high school competitive fishing team in the region. The team is completely self-funded, and

See Gump on page 10

they work hard to collect donations and solicit sponsors. Their locally made fishing jerseys are adorned with the logos and names of their supporters.

Dead Cell Man’s Phone

by Sarah Ruhl

Jean is sleepwalking through her life until she answers a dead man’s cell phone. It turns out to be a wake-up call that helps Jean re-connect to her own spirit and learn that life is for the living.

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Colegan describes his first year as “very tough,” as he and his partner, Mike Haraschak, adjusted to the rigors of competitive fishing and traveling to fish new waters. They learned a lot along the way, and even scored a third place finish and lunker (biggest fish) in one event. Together, the team finished sixth in the standings for the year. Colegan says the biggest lesson he learned was simply “to not overcomplicate and overthink things.” He says he “learned to listen to his gut to make good decisions on the spot.”

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At the end of the season, Mike graduated from high school, leaving Colegan in search of a new teammate. As luck would have it, his dad, also the team’s boat captain, attended a gun auction, and, while chatting with some people there about float fishing on Pine Creek, he met the Kapp family. Connor Kapp, seventeen, from Benton, also fished tournaments, and he too needed a partner. From that day forward their friendship grew, and by the start of the 2022 season the two were prepared for a new year of competition.

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Dr. Donna & Ken Mettler and Eugene Seelye

The season began on Raystown Lake in Huntingdon County. It’s a reservoir, originally built as a hydroelectric project and finished in 1973 by the Army Corps of Engineers. It is one of the largest lakes in Pennsylvania. With over 8,000 acres of water, it was certain to be a challenging event and much different from the local lakes and ponds Colegan usually fished. As their strategy, Colegan and Connor found it best to stay on the move, covering water and getting in front of as many fish as possible. Moving baits like crankbaits or chatterbaits, and even some topwaters, proved most effective as bass roamed around chasing baitfish. Whenever they saw a laydown, or fallen tree, they would pitch a jig around, capturing a few extra bites. By the end of the day, the duo amassed a five-bass limit with enough weight to take home a second place finish, giving them the confidence they needed to compete on any body of water.

Coming off a great start to the season, the second event brought the Wellsboro Bassmasters closer to home with a tournament on Cowanesque Lake, also a man-made body of water. The hometown favorites had a rough start to the day, breaking their trolling motor shaft on an underwater structure, and making navigation much more difficult. They mustered through, and relied heavily on electronics to find bass holding on deep, submerged brush piles and structure. Pitching weightless worms and allowing them to slowly fall to the bass proved to be key, as all the best fish came off deep structure. Despite their unfortunate motor issues, Colegan and Connor ground out another five-bass limit. The big brims of their sun shade hats couldn’t conceal the pair’s joyous faces and giant grins as their fish hit the scales. Weighing in at almost fifteen pounds, the two took home their first win of the season and kept the good momentum going.

Hide and Sink

The final event of the regular season took team Stiner and Kapp to Bald Eagle State Park and Foster Sayers Lake. Throughout the prior weeks, the duo prefished, finding a pattern that they felt could bring them another win. The fish had other plans, though, and on tournament day all the bass seemed to disappear.

See Gump on page 12

Gump continued from page 9

Canyon Country Fabrics

Falling for fish: Autumn is a great time for anglers on Pine Creek at Tomb Flats, just south of the village of Slate Run, where Colegan poses with another rainbow trout.

For All Your Quilting Needs!

Everything they had figured out was thrown out the window. The two kept their heads down and their eyes on the water, picking apart every square inch they could in order to scrape together some bites. They tried new areas and relied on jigs (weighted lures), Ned rigs (named for outdoor writer Ned Kehde—a technique using small plastic critters that will float easily off the bottom), and wacky rigs (a plastic worm hooked in the middle that wiggles attractively from both ends). The bites didn’t come easy and, as Colegan says, “keeping it simple” was key. By the end of the day, the duo had scraped together another limit of five bass. This time it was only good enough for sixth place, but, more importantly, it gave them enough points to solidify their spot at the PA B.A.S.S. Nation State Championship.

Throughout the season, Colegan and Connor fished a few other events on free weekends too, including the Major League Fishing High School Open on Smith Mountain Lake in Virginia. There, they scored a third place finish by skipping docks (fishing under a dock, where the big bass sometimes hide) with wacky rigs and throwing topwaters (using a floating lure) to bass that were busting schools of baitfish on the surface. Similarly, they fished the Bass Federation U.S. Open and caught largemouth skipping docks. Offshore, they found a solid smallie bite on the deeper shoals using crankbaits, jigs, and tubes.

Looking back on all the events, Colegan notes that each one was different, but that working together as a team was crucial. Some

Gump continued from page 10

days he was better at catching bass. Other days, it was Connor who landed the most fish. Staying focused and making good decisions in tandem helped a solid plan come together as they prefished and worked toward the state championship. By the end of October, the two were ready to compete again on Raystown Lake. Unlike the other tournaments, the championship was a two-day competition.

The Biggest Catch

Come tournament time, fall weather had set in and water temperatures had dropped. Patterns that worked early in the year weren’t holding up—instead they found bass suspended in deeper water. Much like the Cowanesque event, their electronics proved to be key as they targeted submerged trees and suspended bass. Using live sonar, the team worked a three-quarter-ounce tail spinner through the schools, getting the key bites on gizzard shad colors. Bait fish patterns were crucial, and, through two days of competition, they managed enough weight to take home their second victory of the season. In that moment, the Wellsboro Bassmasters became the 2022 PA B.A.S.S. Nation High School Champions. The win earned them their place at the national championship in 2023, too.

Later this summer, Colegan and Connor head south to compete on the big stage. The national championship is the Superbowl of high school bass fishing. Teams comprised of the best high school anglers from across the nation will be there,

See Gump on page 33

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Baiting Brook Trout

More Than One Kind of Dry Spell

By Don Knaus

Last May, I promised a friend a brook trout trip, and I guaranteed that said pal would catch a beauty. Summer passed—almost. Coming onto September we faced the last legal days for brookies. I called and said, “We’ve only got two days left. We need to go.” Friend was too busy to go. I stomped around the house whining. I told my lovely bride, Maggie, the fishing trip I had so wanted was out. Damn!

She suggested that I go alone. “I don’t want to go alone,” I moaned. “I want to catch some brookies and share the experience. You probably wouldn’t want to go, and surely you wouldn’t fish. I want to have a nice day in the back woods, check the water, and watch someone catch a brookie.”

She smiled. “Okay, I’ll go. We’ll make a nice day of it.”

“Will you catch a brookie if I coach ’ya?”

“Okay, I’ll catch a fish.” And, after

packing some food and drinks and loading the chubby beagle into the back seat, we were off. The stash of trout worms that had resided in our refrigerator since April had simply disappeared. So we stopped at the Tackle Shack to buy worms, and I aimed my truck toward Ansonia.

I was thinking of Four Mile Run but changed my mind and drove up another favorite brookie stream. I stopped at a sure catch spot and walked to the stream. Maggie fed a treat to the beagle and opened her romance novel. I was shocked that the run was just a trickle. I could see no possible brookie lairs. It was disheartening. It truly had been a long, dry summer.

We continued up the run and stopped at my “guaranteed to produce a brook trout” hole. I got out and begged Maggie to join me. Baited up, I handed her the rod. I coaxed, “Just swing the worm out and when it swings

back, drop it.” She did, and the rod tip bent instantly. Mimicking my dad, I yelled, “Put the iron to him. Haul his ass out.” She hoisted the trout out of the hole and over to me.

I was shocked at the size. I exclaimed, “Let’s get the rule and measure it. My God, he’s beautiful. Look at the colors—the orange, the red, the blue dots.” I took out the steel tape my dad used when he was fish warden. “God, Mag, you caught an eleven-inch brookie! Look at it!” She looked and agreed to the size. “Under normal conditions, he’d be bigger. And he’d have a bulging belly.”

She handed me the rod and said, “Now, it’s your turn.” I mentioned that I rarely caught two out of the hole, but I’d give it a try. Again, almost as soon as the worm hit the water, I had another brookie. It was beautiful and big. It measured nine and a half inches. Unbelievable!

My lovely bride urged, “Try it again.” I replied that it was her turn. She said, “I told

Don Knaus

No trout about it: Fishing is better with your wife. Here Maggie holds her brookie, the first catch of the day.

you I’d catch a trout. I did. Now try again.” I was quite reluctant. Two trout from any hole was an infrequent event. Three was impossible. But, I dropped the bait. Wham! I lifted another colorful trout that measured ten inches. I couldn’t believe the luck. Then it hit me. This hole may well have been the only spot on the run with enough water to hold trout. So I tried again. My third fish out of the hole was just nine and a half inches. Then, I hooked his granddaddy. That trout was heavy. When he finally broke water, my rod jerked up and tangled in a tree limb. “Mister Monster” wriggled and wriggled. I prayed that I could get out of the leaves and limbs and land him. He plopped back to the water. My heart sank. Maggie sighed, “Oh…he was a nice one—the biggest yet.” After a pause, she added, “Too bad you got hung up on that tree. That’s what I usually do. Try again.”

Now five brook trout out of one hole just isn’t done. It isn’t possible. I stood staring into the hole. I was replaying the loss of the biggest brookie I would have caught in many years—maybe ever. Maggie softly suggested, “Maybe that big one will bite again.” Well, I knew that was never going to happen, but to placate her, I tossed in again.

I know you’re thinking that “Mister Monster” returned, I landed him, and lived happily ever after. If you’re thinking that, you don’t know squat about brook trout. Their motto is, “Once pricked, forever shy.” But I did land another nice trout, just a nine-incher, smallest of the five.

I tried again to no avail. Frankly, I worried that if I caught my fifth trout, and with Maggie’s one-trout philosophy, the trip would be over. We drove on and hit Four Mile Run. So much of Four Mile is a steep struggle down, and previous fishermen have turned any access points to slick sliding. At age seventy-seven and remembering the fall last winter that broke my leg, I was reluctant to try. I did carefully drop down once to a hole I just couldn’t resist. I caught two small brookies and released them. Silly me, I had negotiated the steep bank with just my rod and the one worm on the hook. I reluctantly returned to the truck to rebait.

I turned toward other waters passing miles of drought-dry streams and mere trickles. After miles, I spotted a beaver dam. Maggie persuaded me to try. Beavers had backed up water three feet deep. I instantly hooked an eight-and-a-half-inch brookie, ending my day. I called. Maggie walked to the pond, the beagle, Annie, trailing. She cast and cast. Apparently, I had caught the only trout in the pond. I wanted to head over the mountain to Bear Run. Maggie always caught two brookies at the bridge. She couldn’t possibly pass that up, could she? I asked, “Which way?” She asked, “Which way is home?”

After supper, I “borrowed” from Lewis Carroll’s The Walrus and the Carpenter.

O Trout,’ said the Fishermen, You’ve had a pleasant run!

Shall we be trotting home again?’

But answer came there none—

And this was scarcely odd, because We’d eaten every one.

Lifelong sportsman Don Knaus is an award-winning outdoor writer and author of several books about outdoor sports. He has served as president of the PA Outdoor Writers and has hosted the group’s state conventions.

Waterfall Whisperer

Kevin Fishburn Builds Beauty and Healing into His Waterscapes

By Lilace Mellin Guignard

Kevin Fishburn has always loved waterfalls. He enjoyed photographing them back when you had to choose a lens and actually focus it. He has no interest in digital photography but has maintained his interest in waterfalls, so much so that he’s recently changed his landscaping business, Nature’s Touch, to Mossy Edge Waterscapes so he can focus on what he loves best: creating the right water feature for each client.

After Kevin graduated from Cowanesque Valley Junior-Senior High School in the midnineties, he eventually found himself in Western North Carolina learning the craft of waterscaping. Lots goes into it—excavating, lining, constructing, plumbing, planting— and then there are the rocks. He can’t say exactly when rocks started talking to him, but, “Gradually I became attuned to them,” he says. “They’d speak to me. I’d wonder why am I looking at this rock?” Then he’d study it

closer, dig around it a little to see its shape, and the answer would come. “It tells you,” he explains.

When he was done apprenticing, his boss asked Kevin to move at least a hundred miles away if he started his own business. They shook on it, and in 2011 Kevin came back to Northcentral Pennsylvania. Worried that there wouldn’t be enough work if he only did waterscaping, he went into general landscaping. He put an ad in the Dollar Saver and got a call to build the biggest pond he’s done so far, about thirty by forty feet. He’s been happy to find there’s more interest in water features in his old stomping grounds than he’d thought.

After twenty-two years of experience and becoming a Certified Aquascape Contractor, Kevin has learned “there is a pond or water feature to suit every person or place.” He likes bringing nature closer to people’s doorstep,

either by upgrading or rebuilding an existing feature or starting from scratch. The Delaneys in Hills Creek asked Kevin to upgrade their pond and make it deeper. It’s right off the patio behind their house, and the waterfall runs year-round. Kevin checks on it the months they are away. Bright orange koi are visible deep in the pond on a thirty-degree March day.

“All you need is a hole in the ice,” he says, and even if the waterfall ices over, there is still water running below it, keeping oxygen in the water.

If, instead, someone needs a lowmaintenance water feature, he’ll suggest a pondless waterfall. You can just shut the pump off if you’re going to be away for a while. (Pumps need to come out in the winter if they aren’t left running.) A pond,

See Waterfall on page 18

Nana’s waterfall: Deb Kearse made wonderful memories with her granddaughters, including Parker (pictured here), at the water feature Kevin Fishburn built.

Tom Kearse

however, is an ecosystem. If you have fish, then you need to expect that heron or other predators will come wanting a snack. You need to choose plants that won’t take over. Ferns and mosses, cone flowers, and other wildflowers that re-seed each year are good choices. Annuals add color early in the season, Kevin notes. Impatiens love the water and can be planted right in it. And if you want to change your color scheme the next year, it’s no big deal.

Why do so many people want water features? Kevin hears reasons that range from folks who want to create a paradise in their own yard, to those who claim that waterfalls are therapeutic. WebMD says that negative ions, which are released when air molecules are broken apart due to moving water, may lift your mood. One of three people feels this euphoria around negative ions due to greater flow of oxygen to the brain, and a biochemical reaction, they think, that increases serotonin, the happy hormone.

Deb Kearse always wanted to be near water anywhere she lived. In 2020 she and her husband, Tom, moved back to Gaines where Tom had grown up. They owned a cabin off

the main road, away from the highway noise, for summers and family gatherings. Tom was willing to look at lake property, but Deb said: it’s easier to build a waterfall than a house. “She wanted a place by the water,” Tom says, “and she made it happen.”

A friend recommended Kevin. He took one look at the slope coming down from the woods behind the house and saw the potential. He submitted a hand-drawn plan, and the Kearses gave him free reign. As Kevin collected rocks, he told Tom they were talking to him.

“I’m not that far out there,” Tom says, “so I didn’t understand. I thought it was a sales pitch. But he’d point to a stone and say ‘Whatever you do, don’t lose that stone. I really need that one.’” And it would turn out to be crucial for a certain spot. “He was so attentive to details about how the water came over each rock. As hokey as I thought it was, he had a sound and flow he was looking for.” The rocks told him where they belonged.

The project was completed by the end of 2021; they enjoyed it only a few weeks before they had to winterize it. By December, though, Deb was sick with multiple myloma, a cancer of the blood. By early 2022 she

was deep into chemotherapy, radiation, and surgery. Pain was intense. Kevin opened the waterfall as soon as weather allowed. Deb helped plant whenever her symptoms allowed.

“It was completed at the perfect time,” Tom believes. “This was her safe haven, her place to pray and will her pain away.” Soon they could only spend afternoons there, unable to stay where an ambulance couldn’t easily reach. After August, Kevin’s videos of the waterfall had to be enough.

Deb died on her birthday in October 2022.

Kevin will go up in early May to plant a weeping redbud tree and get the pump going. “It’s going to be a little hard,” he admits. “The little time I spent with her, she really helped me with my confidence and my business.” Tom says that’s how Deb was, always looking out for others. The family will gather at the cabin on Memorial Day to spread her ashes at Nana’s Waterfall, as they call it.

“I think, without a doubt, we all believe that’s where her spirit is,” says Tom.

You can find Mossy Edge Waterscapes on Facebook or call Kevin at (570) 439-4840.

Spring’s Beautiful Brevity

A Season of Fish, Fly Balls, and Childhood Memories

By Marshall Nych

To summon spring’s natural, rejuvenating magic, you need only take a fresh look and a deep breath. Flora and fauna, perhaps well rested from winter’s dormancy, seem particularly alive. It’s not a coincidence that two of my fondest childhood chapters were written during this inviting time of year—baseball and trout fishing.

As fast as my short legs would carry me, I’d sprint to the far end of my grandparent’s backyard. Once settled, I placed hands on my knees to signal readiness. Halfway across the yard stood my cutoff and boyhood hero— Grandpa Seybert. Nearest to the house stood a smiling Uncle Kenny, bat in hand. With arms the size of legs, Kenny was athletic in every aspect of the word. A mix of parents,

cousins, aunts, and other family members congregated atop the brick patio, which doubled as our dugout.

My favorite uncle would hit pop flies so high they were temporarily lost in the endless blues of a spring sky. I’d doggedly dash toward the last place I’d spotted the little white sphere. As the ball returned to the lower atmosphere, the entire family cheered as I made the catch. Glowing with pride, I’d toss the ball to Grandpa Seybert. Throwing with the neatest sidearm style I have witnessed to this day, Grandpa would return the ball to Kenny, and we’d do it all again. It’s a wonderful memory to replay. Their support and influence inspired me. I wanted to be center fielder for the Pittsburgh Pirates when I grew up. If that

career path didn’t work out, I’d settle on being a professional fisherman, because one thing I loved as much as baseball was trout. A stream trickled through our family farm, and there I’d marvel at the fish’s brilliant colors. This beautiful brevity was referred to as spring, and, be it the joy of baseball or trout, it seemed to be reserved for just a short time of the year.

Pop flies still come down and fish still jump up, I still love baseball and trout, but that little boy never tried out for the Pirates nor entered celebrated fishing tournaments. But when he became a man, he was blessed to be a husband to a loving woman and the father of two beautiful children.

As one spring sprung, I was asked to

See Brevity on page 22

Laura Nych

Casting for memories: Marshall Nych takes his two-and-a-half year old son, Noah, fishing for the first time on Father’s Day 2017.

coach my son Noah’s baseball team. All those great memories from my own days on the diamond surfaced, and I drew from what Grandpa Seybert and Uncle Kenny had taught me. I strived to make baseball a passion and joy for my son and his teammates. To me, part of this meant giving opening day of trout season off so my players had an opportunity to become anglers.

I took my starting shortstop to a nearby creek, one flowing not far from our home baseball field. Swapping aluminum for graphite, Noah stepped up to the plate with the rod in his grip. This was his opening day. Noah’s first swing, ushered in by the classic 8 a.m. start, immediately made contact. The most abundant fish in the pool, the rainbow trout, boasted more colors than the PowerBait it engulfed. A single species now in the net, Noah stood proudly at first.

Though a few more rainbows obliged, it seemed the fish wised up to our concession stand. Listening to his coach, Noah baited a small hook with my preferred trout bait—the minnow. A daring leadoff with an eye on second, Noah tossed the bait against the far bank. As if stealing second itself, a speedy

little brook trout darted from the shadows. After a frisky skirmish, Noah was not only at second base with double digits, but also another species.

My son, his quickness often placing him at shortstop, felt comfortable between second and third base. The boy had hit his stride. Not only was he executing some well-placed casts, he skillfully played fish away from snags. The only obstacle to a third species was the brown trout. Without a doubt, the brownie finning in the hole was easily the biggest. Ignoring every presentation, it was clear Noah’s triple would be a challenge. My son knew to frequently change tactics when fish shut down. He threaded a single wax worm along a thin hook. The brown trout effortlessly inhaled the offering. A proper triple, I would have been more than happy if Noah’s game ended there, stranded at third base.

Bases now loaded, Noah had exhausted all live bait options. Reading his coach’s signals like a book, Noah tied on a trout magnet. As soon as the lure dove into the pool with just the slightest plop, he slowly dragged and jigged the morsel along the bottom. Surprising every angler on the roster,

particularly Noah himself, most attracted to the trout magnet was a finicky golden rainbow.

Crossing home plate, my son had achieved a Pennsylvania trout fishing grand slam. This seven-year-old angler brought four species of trout to the net. As coach and father, I could not have been prouder. The emotions a little boy of yesterday felt as he looked into his glove and saw the baseball were the very ones a little boy of today experienced as he admired the fish he held in his hands.

Grandpa Seybert passed away about five years ago. The Noah he knew could scarcely walk, let alone catch a baseball or a fish. Yet, perched between the emerald spring waters, earthen infield, and heaven, I felt Grandpa watching us. Gazing up, I fully expected one of Uncle Kenny’s fly balls to drop out of the endless blues of a spring sky.

Marshall Nych is an avid outdoorsman from Mercer County, Pennsylvania. Though his writing has won awards, his fishing or hunting has not. Most importantly, he is a father of two and husband of one.

Every Picture Tells a Story

By Steve McCloskey

While it is true that some pictures are worth a thousand words, sometimes you really need the backstory to truly appreciate how powerful a photo can be.

On Saturday, February 18, 2023, Mason Woodward was concluding the most difficult and challenging week of his young life. One week earlier his mother, Christine Hill Woodward, a well-respected and beloved elementary school teacher in Troy, was killed in a terrible car accident. It was about as bad a story as you can get and it affected everyone who read or heard about it.

Christine was the loving mother of three children, all of whom are still in school. Mason, a senior at Troy High School and the oldest of the siblings, is a well-regarded standout on the Trojan football and wrestling teams. His athletic background made him well-versed in the highs and lows of victory and defeat, but nothing in life can prepare you for the shock and despair of the sudden and unexpected loss of your mother.

Four days after the accident, Mason, Evan, and Raelyn, along with their father, Bob, attended a locker dedication ceremony to honor Christine’s memory—this prior to the women’s basketball game at Mansfield

University.

Mason’s mother and father met at Mansfield where they were, respectively, starters on the women’s basketball and football teams. Both were excellent athletes, but perhaps even more respected for their commitment to their fellow teammates.

Two days after the locker dedication, a Celebration of Life was held at a filled Victory Church with long lines of mourners to be greeted. It was a sad, exhausting day for all.

Less than twenty-four hours later, Mason was scheduled to participate in yet another gathering, this time representing his school at the PIAA Class AA North Section Championship being held at Athens High School. Mason had won a sectional title as a junior the year before and certainly had high expectations to repeat that honor—prior to his mother’s death. If he didn’t wrestle and place in the top four of his weight class, he couldn’t advance to districts, the second step of the state tournament.

The gymnasium was packed, and the story that resonated throughout the crowd wasn’t who would win or lose, but of the remarkable courage and fortitude of this wrestler from Troy. Mason Woodward had become everyone’s favorite.

The crowd was enthusiastically in support as Mason won his first match. If he was able to win his next semifinal bout, he would advance into the championship round guaranteeing him a spot in districts.

But as the match progressed, he fell behind, and as time wore down defeat seemed imminent. Then something remarkable happened in the final period—many who witnessed it could hardly explain it. Somehow, Mason reversed and pinned his opponent to win the match. The place erupted, bringing grown men and women to tears. A group hug for thousands. Divine intervention, perhaps, from his mother, who may be gone but never left her son’s side.

With nothing left to prove and exhausted beyond any time in his life, Mason forfeited the championship bout to his opponent from Canton. When the decision was announced, his opponent took Mason’s hand and raised it to the crowd in respect of a true champion.

Steve McCloskey retired in 2017 as the longtime Director of Athletic Operations and Information at Mansfield University. He currently serves as a member of the board of the Mansfield History Center.

Mother Earth

Busy As a...Well, You Know

By Gayle Morrow

If you’re a Far Side fan, you might remember this one: There’s the beaver husband sitting in his chair in the living room, wanting to read the paper but having to give his wife a sideways I’m-alittle-piqued-that-you’re-talking-about-me sort of look instead. She, a typical FS lady of a certain age, is wearing cat-eye glasses, an apron, and an exasperated expression. She’s on the phone. “No, he’s not busy,” she’s saying. “In fact, that whole thing is just a myth.”

Spousal dynamics aside, this particular guy is likely an aberration, because beavers are, in reality, very busy. They are what is known as a keystone species—that being a species with outsized ecological impacts relative to their biomass—and are a critical link in the ecosystem scheme of things, particularly when it comes to water. One of my buddies who is a fishing freak got very excited when I told him I was writing about

beavers for the Fishue. “Beavers and trout are like this,” he said, holding up one hand with his index and middle finger entwined. That close. No myth.

Beavers are second only to humans in their ability to manipulate their environment. Think about that for a minute. They modify their habitat to suit their needs, but, in their case, the end result is often very beneficial to the biodiversity of said habitat. We can’t always make that claim.

Castor canadensis is the second largest living rodent, with South America’s capybaras holding first place. Adults range in weight from forty to sixty pounds, with an average length of forty inches. Those famous, flat, paddle-like tails are typically eight to twelve inches long and six inches or so wide. In the water, beavers use them as a rudder, a propeller, and to make a loud noise in case they need to get the attention of

their compatriots. On land they’re useful as support while the animal is munching away on roots or twigs. They’re a fat storehouse during the winter months.

Beavers’ hind feet are webbed; their front feet are hand-like and dexterous. Their front teeth grow continuously. (Do the teeth grow because the beavers eat trees or do the beavers eat trees because their teeth don’t stop growing?) Baby beavers, known as kits, are born with teeth already through the gums. Beavers eat grass, ferns, mushrooms, stems, roots, and various tree parts. (Another great Far Side cartoon shows a beaver standing in front of an open refrigerator. The shelves are full of limbs and branches.) Beavers are monogamous; mom, dad, and children live together until the kids are about two, then it’s out you go, find your own territory. Failure to launch is not a beaver option.

See Busy on page 28

By the end of the nineteenth century, uncontrolled trapping (beavers have great fur, which looks best on them, IMO) and habitat loss had eliminated beavers in Pennsylvania and in most of the rest of the country. They’ve since been successfully reintroduced. In the late 1940s, the state of Idaho used surplus military parachute equipment to get beavers into remote areas where their engineering skills would help with needed water retention. These days they can be found throughout the continental United States and Canada, except in some desert areas. The largest beaver dam in the world—about half a mile long—is in Alberta. It holds the equivalent of 92,000 dump trucks full of water, and can be seen from space.

So how is it that “beavers and trout are like this?” Water and bugs.

Beavers have some natural terrestrial predators, so their go-to safe space is the water. The ponds they create provide protection from those land-based hunters, but, even though a beaver can stay under water for fifteen minutes, even though they can close their lips behind their teeth

so they can transport sticks and other food and not drown, they can’t swim forever. So they make lodges for shelter and protection, for rearing their babies, and for a place to live during the winter. But it’s their ponds, dams, channels—their engineering, their changing their habitat to suit their needs— and the resulting wetlands that serve as such an impressive ecological benefit to other species. According to one statistic, the riparian zone around beaver activity sees an increase of over 33 percent in the number of herbaceous plants—those are plants with flexible green stems and few to no woody parts, and they’re a salad bar for the critters who live on them. The watery habitats they create provide living space and food for insects (the kind trout like), amphibians, fish, waterfowl, owls, mink, and otters. Their dams serve as water impoundments—i.e. fish habitat—during droughts, and they are natural filtration systems. There are measurable increases in aquatic and terrestrial biodiversity around beaver ponds and their surrounding riparian habitats.

A study by the Yale Environment Review estimates that beavers have the capacity to

provide close to half a billion (yup, that’s a “b”) dollars of value in ecosystem services.

As we’ve done in the past with more than one species, our propensity for near decimation leads to an “oops, maybe we shouldn’t have done that” moment, followed by successful reintroduction, followed by a need to “manage” a population. Beavers’ presence and engineering prowess are not always welcome. Sometimes they build dams and make ponds where those features are not wanted, or they munch down on trees we’d rather they left alone. Heavy gauge fencing around trees can offer some protection, and water level control devices can minimize the sound and motion of running water, both of which can lead to in an irresistible urge on the beaver’s part to start a construction project.

Trapping, legal in Pennsylvania December through March and in New York November through April, is the most common method of population control. Or, we, as the master manipulators, could maybe learn to live with them.

A Piscivore’s Dilemma

Doc’s Notes on Eating Fish and His Recipes for That Purpose

By Richard Soderberg

Selecting fish to eat presents a piscivore’s dilemma. Some fisheries are sustainable, and some are not. You cannot, with a clear conscience, consume most wild salmonids, especially the native species. For us in the Twin Tiers, that’s wild brook trout. Fish for them and admire them. They face enough obstacles without your frying pan being one of them.

Fortunately, hatchery-reared salmonids are available to us. They are totally sustainable because they are produced in state-owned hatcheries funded, for the most part, by fishing license sales and stocked for our recreational and culinary benefit in waters that do not support wild trout. My

favorite way to cook them is to marinate them in teriyaki sauce and cook on the grill—with the heads on, of course. Excellent sources of wild fish that may be harvested and consumed with a clear conscience include so-called rough fish like carp and suckers, and panfish like yellow perch and sunfish. These are lower on the food chain than the apex predators of more interest to anglers and thus more plentiful. Following are some recipes for guiltfree fish that are abundantly available to local anglers.

Sucker Lip Soup

Once upon a time I was called on

to develop a station at the local Earth Day celebration. I decided to showcase underutilized species of fish. I made carp balls, smoked carp, pickled suckers, and sucker soup. It was a blustery April day, so the hot soup went over the best. Here’s how I made it.

Obtain some suckers. They are considered trash fish, so there is no season, no limit, and no restrictions on how to obtain them. They are actually nice fish with firm, mild, flakey white flesh.

Filet the suckers, wrap, and refrigerate. You won’t need them until later. Discard the guts and gills, but keep the heads and carcasses. Make a stock from the heads,

Duck, duck, fish: Whether fishy, feathered, or furred, it can end up dinner in Doc’s kitchen.

carcasses, and skins. Use vegetables, fresh oregano, bay leaves, fresh parsley, and a whole lime, cut in half (top photo, right). Simmer for six hours or so.

Crisp up some finely-chopped bacon. When the fat is rendered, add onion, leek, and carrots, all diced to about a quarter inch. Cook until the onions are translucent and the carrots are almost soft. Set aside.

When the stock is about done, make a roux (equal parts by weight of flour and fat used to thicken sauces) and add a small carton of heavy cream. Cook until it is slightly thickened. Discard the solids from the stock pot and reduce the liquid to about a quart. While lightly simmering, add the roux and the reserved bacon-vegetable mix. Return to a light simmer and gently add the fillets. Simmer for three minutes to cook the fish.

Serve with a garnish of fresh parsley.

Carp Balls

Common carp are found in nearly every water body in our area. They are not only invasive exotics, but deemed undesirable by most anglers. They are hard to catch with hook and line because they are smarter than the average fish, so I shoot them with a bow and arrow.

Gut the fish—there is no need to skin or scale them—and cook on a gas grill until done. Remove and discard the skin then, along with the dark muscle, then shred the good part, carefully removing the bones. Mix the fish with bread crumbs, egg, chopped green onions, parmesan, a little Worcestershire sauce, fresh parsley, and mayo until the mixture can be rolled into fairly moist golf ball-sized balls. Fry in oil until golden brown.

Grandma’s Sunfish

When we were kids staying at our grandparents’ cottage we prided ourselves on being trophy fishermen, seeking the most elegant species. When Grandma wanted a fish dinner, she would hand us the shovel to dig worms and send us out for sunfish. The most common sunfish in our area are pumpkinseeds and bluegills.

Most people these days fillet sunfish, but Grandma cooked them with the bones and skin, enhancing the flavor significantly. Here is how she did it.

First obtain some sunfish. They are ubiquitous in lakes and ponds all around our area. Scale the fish with a kitchen fork and remove the heads and guts (middle photo, right).

Dust in flour.

Grandma fried them in lard, but canola oil works fine.

Dismantle on the plate and enjoy.

Fish Tacos

We make fish tacos Baja style with fish or shrimp, corn tortillas, and shredded cabbage. The preferred fish in Mexico is dorado, aka mahi mahi, but we use perch or sunfish. First fry the tortillas for a minute, then fold over and fry a little more until the tortilla is cooked, but not crunchy like a fast-food hard taco.

Assemble components: prepared tortillas, fried fish, shredded cabbage, salsa verde, fresh cilantro, fresh lime (bottom photo, right). Load each tortilla with fish on the bottom,

followed by cabbage, salsa, and cilantro. Finish with a squeeze of lime. Salud!

Lox

One of the favorite treats from my kitchen is lox, a Scandinavian process by which a salmon is cured and smoked. Locally available substitutes for Atlantic salmon are found in the Finger Lakes and Lake Erie. These, as well as Alaska salmon, which are sustainable, can be harvested guiltfree. The most sustainable sources of large salmonids are steelhead from Lake Erie or Lake Ontario, or salmon from Lake Ontario, as they are of hatchery origin. Pre-migratory smolts are stocked in streams, mature in the lakes, and are harvested when they return as adults. Pictured here is a steelhead whose life began in a hatchery and who was eventually caught in a Lake Erie tributary stream.

Most of our store-bought fish presently come from aquaculture, some of which have controversial environmental impacts. Imported farm-raised fish may contain harmful chemicals used to control disease. Farm-raised Atlantic salmon is a beautiful product, indistinguishable in appearance

and taste from a wild Alaska silver salmon. Reported environmental impacts of their production include fouling of the sea bottom beneath the cages in which they are reared, transmission of disease to wild Atlantic salmon in the same waters, and possible negative impacts of escaped farm fish on wild fish populations. I make lox from them (with a little guilt) if I haven’t been to Alaska for a while.

Obtain two similar-sized pieces of salmon or trout. They have to fit together, meat to meat, skin sides out. Sprinkle both sides with coarse black pepper. You will need a batch of fresh dill and a mixture of equal parts of kosher salt and brown sugar. Apply salt-sugar mixture to both sides of each fillet. Apply the dill between the fish pieces and sandwitch together shoulder to belly so the pieces fit neatly together. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate. After twenty-four hours, drain off accumulated liquid and flip the double pieces of fish. Your lox should be done after a total of forty-eight hours of curing, but if it’s crumbly and not firm enough to slice, continue the curing process until it is.

Smoking isn’t necessary as the lox is

ready to serve after curing, but if you have a smoker, I recommend it. Cold smoke the lox for two to three hours. Don’t let the temperature in the smoker exceed 100oF or it will cook and your lox will be ruined. Cool or freeze before slicing. Slice lox as thin as you can. It helps a lot to have the right knife.

Lox is best served on a homemade bagel. This is the assembly process: cut bagel in half, apply cream cheese, capers, red onion, and a pile of the sliced lox.

Just like in the Big City!

Richard (Doc) Soderberg is professor emeritus of fisheries science at Mansfield University of Pennsylvania. The nickname Doc came not so much from his academic credentials, but from the successful surgery he performed on a turkey many years ago. Lefty the one-winged turkey lived a long and fruitful life until she made the ultimate sacrifice one Thanksgiving. Doc forages and eats what he finds near Mansfield. One of his retirement projects was a cookbook featuring recipes he developed over the years, some of which are featured here. Doc’s Cookbook is available locally at the Tackle Shack in Wellsboro.

each vying to bring home the win for their state. Scouts from prominent universities will likely be watching closely, looking to recruit talent for their college fishing teams. Last year’s competition was at Lake Hartwell in Anderson, South Carolina. The details, including location, for the 2023 fish-off are yet to be determined, but wherever and whenever it is, the Wellsboro Bassmasters will be ready. Behind them, their friends, families, and sponsors will be cheering them on.

For others interested in competitive bass fishing, Colegan offers a little advice.

“Don’t be scared. Just jump right into it. You have to think about it as it’s just you going fishing, and not a competition. Make quick and smart decisions under pressure. Trust your gut.”

Wise words from a young man. Words he continues to live by as he looks ahead.

The next few years Colegan will continue to compete in the high school circuit. After graduating, he hopes to compete with a college bass fishing team. Auburn University, in Alabama, remains at the top of his list, however he wouldn’t necessarily turn down an opportunity at another school. After college, he aspires to compete at the professional level and start his own his guide service. Colegan loves teaching new people how to fish and plans to guide clients on Pine Creek, local lakes, and possibly the Finger Lakes, too, with his newest venture, Gump’s Guided Adventures (see Explore Wellsboro Spring/Summer 2023 edition for the story). Whether its float fishing for trout or flipping jigs for largemouth, he wants to ignite a passion for fishing in others.

He’s a talented kid with big dreams and humble beginnings here in Tioga County. Like the flowing waters of his favorite streams, Colegan’s future is clear. He’s going to fish. Wish him luck as the Wellsboro Bassmasters embark on a new season and chase a national title.

Don Kelly is the owner of Tackle Shack in Wellsboro and a PA Fish & Boat Commission fishing skills instructor.  He can be reached by email at tackleshack@ frontiernet.net.

BACK OF THE MOUNTAIN

Spring Slides Home

By Matthew Stevens

This photo of my daughter, Hailey Stevens, was taken at the beautiful Charleston Street Recreation Area’s Little League fields just outside of Wellsboro. The wonderful coaches and helpful parents can be found here every year, cheering and rooting for their ball players, and it gives a true sense of community spending time here.

CHECK YOUR HEART.

IT COULD MAKE ALL THE DIFFERENCE TO HER.

IDENTIFYING RISK FACTORS FOR HEART DISEASE EARLY CAN SAVE YOUR LIFE.

Blood pressure. Cholesterol. Glucose. Weight. And family history. These are just a few of the things doctors use to identify risk factors for heart disease, the leading cause of death in the country for both men and women. Don’t put off getting your heart checked — in-person or through virtual visits — to know your risk factors. Learn more at UPMC.com/HeartNCPA.