Gift from the Mrs.

This last Christmas, Rachel went above and beyond and got us tickets to the Mumford and Sons concert in Omaha, Nebraska. This was my gift from her, and I was hesitant about it at first. I am not exactly great with large crowds but it was going to be worth it...I hoped.

We both took the day off and drove down to Omaha. As I am still dealing with this crypto thing, I have been unable to eat real food, and Rachel didn't want to stop and get dinner. I felt bad about that.

We took a walk with our extra time and took some pics down by the river.
It was unbelievably bright and the squint-look was all we could handle. 

We were finally able to make it into the arena, and find our spots. I'm not one that has a total issue with heights, but this place gave me the willies. It was almost 3 feet height difference between the rows, and we were in the nosebleed section (Rachel got what seats we could as tickets went FAST).

 

Regardless of the nosebleed section, it was nice to be in our spot. I was able to eat part of soft pretzel and Rachel shared a bite of her hotdog, and we 'people watched' the endless stream of hipsters come in before the concert started. We both knew what we were getting ourselves into, but wow.....

The opening band started and boy were we disappointed. They were memorable enough that I cannot even tell you the name of the band. At this point, I was really hoping the rest of the concert was going to be a lot better. After the openers finished there was a half an hour break before Mumford started. 

When the light went out and they began, it was extraordinary!!! 

I read somewhere that the band themselves waited years before recording an album because it was not going to be the same as their music live. I have now witnessed this phenomenon myself. There music is great, but in concert it is an experience in itself. I know that is why musicians tour, so they can share their music in a specific setting, but I never would have thought it would make that much of a difference. These guys were absolutely amazing!

Now I know I biffed recording the video vertical, but when the band asked for lighters or phone lights, it was eye opening.

Being squeezed into a very uncomfortable, small, and sticky seat, next to a fat obnoxious drunk women, didn't matter for 2 hours. I was able to share this experience with my wife. She has been one that becomes consumed by gift giving. She will spend hours trying to find the right gift, and that for each person. When she jumped on these tickets, she knew she had something. I can say now, it may take her awhile to surpass this one. Thank you Mrs!!!!!



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Cochrane's Boss Gobbler

Since last weekend I have been battling a bug. Rachel and I have been skeptical that it is cryto, but jury is out on that one. Nevertheless, I was out of commission for the first two days of the work week, and have been a little peaked all week. So far, I have figured out that I feel the best when all I eat is cherrios...and that's it. By Friday I was feeling OK, and had even been able to semi-function. Despite my better judgement, I decided to test my luck at Cochrane's for a gobbler. I would rather give up an entire deer season that give up a chance to turkey hunt. There is something surreal about the experience that is best described as spiritual.
It's amazing.
I decided that I would play it by ear and if I woke up at 4am when my alarm went off and I felt like garbage I would stay home. When the alarm finally did go off, I was feeling OK, which was a vast improvement from earlier in the week, so I loaded my things and headed out.

When I got to my spot, I stood in front of the car and listened for a distance gobble......

Silence.

I figured oh well, I was looking forward to watching the woods wake up anyway and I was feeling alright. As I took my obligatory pee before heading out I heard the timber rattle.

A gobbler!

I frantically grabbed my gear and headed for the trees. As I worked my way there I could hear that there were two birds gobbling in the narrow section of timber on the west side. After hopping the fence, I put my decoys together and was falling apart at the seam. The birds were gobbling up a storm and it was making my brain melt. I tip-toed my way along the field edge and the closer I got the clearer the picture of my situation. There were birds everywhere on this point and I knew where I needed to be for my best position at seeing a bird. I stuck my decoys in the field corner and belly-crawled the rest of the way to the fenceline.
There were two gobblers roosted in the trees mere yards to my left, one of which I could see sway back and forth every time he gobbled. As one would gobble, the rest would chime in.
There were seven gobblers total on the end of this point!!!
When I knew it was close enough to legal, I gave a couple of clucks on my mouth call. This sent the whole ridge into synchronized gobbling. I watched as the pair right next to me pitched down and flew just over the pasture rise in front of me. Both hit the ground gobbling. I tried to work them my way with some sweet talk but they already knew what they wanted to do.
My sweet talk did not sit well with one of the hens behind me and she began her scolding of the 'new girl' on the ridge. Every time she would call I would mimic back her call, but louder. Again, this sent the gobblers into a frenzy. The hens eventually shut up and left, which left me with a flock of hot gobblers. Every time I would call, they would sound off. I finally was able to work one of the birds closer, and he was right below me. Where I was set up, I had a plum thicket behind me, a brush pile to my left, and an open pasture coming to a point in front of me. Distance of open view was limited but doable. I could hear the bird spitting and drumming to my left, and he was close. If I stood up I could have blasted him right out of his strut zone, but that doesn't often work with turkeys.
I finally caught sight of one of the gobblers as he hopped into an opening at about 40 yards. I could have easily popped him right there, but it just wasn't as clear of a shot as I was comfortable with taking; so I waited.
At this point I was shaking bad, and because I have been indisposed this last week, my strength and endurance has been compromised. I had to slowly drop my gun in my lap as I could no longer hold it up. I lost site of the gobbler and as he dropped into the slope an all out fight broke out. It was nothing I have encountered in the turkey woods before and it was intense to say the least.
An all-out gobbler fight ensued!
I could hear the wings rapping against each other and I would see a head pop up in mid-air. I then say a bird flipping up-sight down in the air. There were literally feather flying as the fighting purrs and random gobbles would sound off.
Spectacular show!!!
When the fight discontinued, three of the birds broke off and resumed their positions right below me. I knew I could eventually pull one of these birds up the cow trail in front of me, I would just have to wait him out. When I figured he had lost interest, I would give some more of my sweet talk with the mouth call. I could hear them again, spitting and drumming right below me. I could hear wings scraping the ground as they strutted back and forth. It sounded closer this time.

GOBBLEGOBBLEGOBBLE!!!!

Up the trail he was coming...

As I slowly lifted my gun, he can into my field of view 13 yards in front of me.

CLICK.

In full strut, I laid the hammer down.

BOOM!!!

I jumped up like I always do to get on him, and when I stood I proceeded to ram head first into the fence. I had been sitting in an awkward position long enough that my left leg buckled the second I put any weight on it. When I finally regained my feet under me, I looked up to see the other two gobblers at 40 yards making their get away. I had minimal damage to me, not a scratch on my face, and I walked over to the largest gobbler I have ever harvested.

You can see in the picture just to the right of his head, I actually hit him with the wad!
This was an absolute stud of a bird with some gut-hooks for spurs.

After calling my beloved wife, I made a few more phone calls and it was time for some pics.

I made my way back to the car with my first South Dakota gobbler over my shoulder. This is exactly why I enjoy turkey hunting, and have been so successful at it. I have never mattered if I shoot one or not, and I have the greatest success when there is no pressure to produce.
Once I made it to my vehicle I loaded up and headed for Al and Karin's. I had to show them my spectacular bird. Once there I had to get pics of my first limb-hanger worthy bird.

After pics we got some final measurements on what I figured would be my largest bird. 11 inch beard, 1 3/4 inch spurs, and an astounding 26 pounds 10 ounces. This surpassed my largest bird by spurs and by weight by almost a pound. What a tank!!!

As Al, Karin, and I were having morning coffee (just water for me....) Al got a call from one of his friends, John Wagner, saying he dropped a big gobbler as well and wanted a good pic. This was truly a great day to be out turkey hunting!
We got 26 pounds even on his bird as well. Two of the largest gobblers I have ever seen.

Eventually, I had to make my way back home to butcher and freeze my giant bird. After a quick shower and clean up, I was even able to make my way back into town with the Mrs. We perused a few places, and I was even able to find a nice mallard print for my office, and we searched for some new pots for house plants. I am finding that Rachel really enjoys the house plants, but only if I take care of them for obvious reasons. Not everyone can have green thumb ;)

The best part of the whole evening is when Rachel suggested that we cook up some of the turkey for dinner. It was going to be on the bland side for my sake, but it never ceases to amaze me how much I love her. This women is my life. Everything I do is because of her. Thanks for the turkey dinner!

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Great Day on the Water...One Day Late

The Monday after our weekend of fishing, I had and entire day of flex time for work, so I was bound and determined to find the fish we couldn't find the last two days. I headed straight for Cottonwood, and didn't look back. I stopped at one of the bays next to the road and dropped down to lake level. Third cast was the charm....

Before I had even left my spot I had caught 7-8 pike, and I hadn't even tried the bait yet. This was a victory and defeat wrapped in a slimy blanket of guilt. I sat for a little bit after I snapped off my spoon on a log. Should I continue to fish or shall I call it a defeat?

I opted for gas mileage and tied back on. That shoreline gave me 4-5 more before I called it on this spot. I backtracked a little, grabbed my gear, and walked in the rest of the way to the end of one of the bay fingers. At the point, I put on a small shiner on the large bobber and casted it out.

It never stopped.

This bay corner was stacked with fish like I had never seen. Over the course of the next few hours I would put in hand 40-50 pike ranging mostly from 2-5 pounds with a couple in the 6-8 pound range.

 Grandpa's homemade Bass-O' Reno pattern crankbait was a hot lure for awhile!

I was elated and disgusted. I wanted to call Dad and tell him of my success, but I was honestly afraid to do so. We had tried so hard to get Grandpa a fish and now I am out on the lake we even stopped to look at, but the wind was bucking hard from the north.

 The climatic conditions of South Dakota can be a real bitch.


Despite all of that, it was nice to prove that the fish do actually exist. It is my greatest hope that we can get everyone back up here again, and try to coordinate around the wind.




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Windy Expeditions

On the weekend of April 2nd, Mom, Dad, and Grandpa came up for a visit to try some shore fishing. Paul, Adam, and Cathy came up as well to try their luck at some cold-water waldos. Even though ice-off was almost a month before, the weather was what it usually is this time of year; windy bleak, and cold. Saturday proved to be cold, but the wind died down enough in the late afternoon that we were able to get on the water. It was tough fishing to say the least. Grandpa was the only one to turn a fish the entire afternoon. We tried every trick in the book, and I casted about every secret lure I could, but the fish were not going to cooperate. Despite that, it was still nice to get out.

We made our way back home and made a wonderful dinner. It was nice to have Grandpa up to the place, but I was bumming that we were struggling to put him on a fish.

Sunday morning we took our time getting out, but we were able to get on a couple different lakes. We started at the boat ramp at Bailey's lake, but again, water was really cold, and it was a bright sunny day. Top that off with some the clearest water in the area, it was not exactly a receipt for a stringer full of waldos, but we had to try.

 It was a beautiful day to be when we were able to get out of the wind, but had to continue our quest for fish.
We bailed on that lake and explored Cottonwood, which was not that much farther north. As the day progressed, so did the wind and this proved to be our greatest enemy of the day. This completed crippled our ability to actually fish anywhere. With 25mph winds, we could barely stand in one spot let along find a place to fish...We again, bailed, and headed for Indian Springs. We ended our day fishing below the bait-shop. We had out deadbait, suckers, minnows, and I casted everything I had in my bag; still not a bite. That was the last straw, so we headed home where we could enjoy calico beans, fish cakes, and comfortable furniture.

No, we didn't catch a fish, but that evening was better than any fish we could have caught. I enjoyed listening to stories from my Dad and my Grandpa. All of the things he went through growing up. How his fishing methods evolved over time. It gave me a surreal sense of peace listening to these stories. I want nothing more that to get Grandpa up here again, not only to try our luck at an actual fish, but to hear more of these stories.



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(thanks Ma for the pics)

Open Water at Last

March 11th 2016 marked open water on a few select spots up here this year, and that is borderline unheard of. Historically, ice out has been just as early, but as a general rule this is spectacularly early. I took advantage of our warm-up and headed to my spot. There was only the shoreline out to about 100 yards that was open water, while the rest of the lake awaited strong winds to finish the job. My first cast of open water and I hit a good one. I fished relatively hard all winter, focusing more on pike than anything, but I neglected to catch a walleye anywhere near home. I caught a few with Paul and Adam on Poinsett, but they were not slot fish and back into the lake they went.
But this fish....This would prove to be my finest. A slow rolling, cold water walleye, slipped into my hands. At a little over 27 inches, and close or at the 8 pound mark, this is my largest walleye to date.

I fought myself as for what to do with this fish as I was walleye-less in my freezer, but a big fat female, borderline bursting with eggs, sated my moral dilemma. I slipped her back into the lake and watched her swim off to make more walleyes. I fished for 4 more hours that afternoon. I did find one little pike, but that was it.

Winter was hard on this spot and there was a fair amount of exposed timber to be snagged than last year. I was hoping to catch a few smaller walleyes for the stringer, but I rarely catch anything when I want them.

This was but merely the beginning of the open water season, and within a few days, the south winds had melted, or pushed all of the ice to the north end. Hopefully, I can find some walleyes again this year, and fill everyone's freezers.



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Spring has Arrived on the Prairie

Date on this one would have been 2/28-3/6


When spring finally decided to give us an appearance, I began my yearly attempt at shed hunting. Each evening I would watch the deer behind the house, mawing down on the indispensable quantity of corn and soybeans. I would make routine of doing the same thing each morning with the coming of daylight, and again in the afternoon if light was still poor before work. I knew that I would eventually spot a glowing spot amongst the grass or corn. One late Sunday morning, I did just that; bone. It was not but 80 yards behind the house with the pedicle pointed right at my window. I made haste, and snapped a few photos of the easiest shed I have ever found.

I had been watching this six point buck along with a few other nice bucks, one of which dropped its head gear much earlier than this one. Later I would find out these deer were traveling up to 3 miles each night to feed on the corn pile. Some nights were so brutal, they would only be able to feed for a few minutes before having to make their way for cover.


At that point I knew I needed to get out and actually find a shed the old fashioned way; putting on the miles. I walked several properties over the course of the next couple of weeks and came up empty each time. I walked some public properties that I deer hunted last fall, found some deer, but still no bone. Unfortunately, and in all honesty, rather distressing, I received an email from our Game Fish & Parks Dept. reminding all outdoorsman that shed hunting is prohibited on public properties in the state of South Dakota....I was blown away. Not only do I think this is beyond absurd, when I moved here, I went through the book time and time again. I DO NOT like to miss anything. I am not a law breaker. Thankfully, I found nothing, but I may be sending a letter to our legislators about this one...


Anyhow,
I then moved on to private property that I had hunted so much the fall before, and the landowner had no qualms with my presence on the property. I took the pup out and we again searched for bone. I have shed hunted properties across the great state of Iowa that puts most other areas to shame, but this property was the most pounded I had seen in a long time, if ever. I gridded this property for 3 hours to no avail. I was beyond the point of frustration. There were antlers to be found, but the diversity and quantity of waterfowl around this property was proving a worthy distraction. I eventually gave up the search for bone and made my way to one of the dugout berms.

There is where I laid with the pup for two more hours, watching the snow geese by the thousands, the rafts of redhead scatter off of the water only to swing around and plop right back into place, the swinging mallards, pintails, gadwalls, widgeons, and even a few teal, and for obvious reasons, my favorite, the deceptively fast and large canvasbacks. Because we were hidden so well, a flock of 20 or so buzzed mere feet above our heads and blasted their way into middle of the shallow bay. It may be spring, but I would love to get back out duck hunting again. There is something surreal about jumping a couple hundred ducks when we got up to leave, while to snow geese above took little notice whatsoever.

These small back bays were the first to thaw, and so brought the onslaught of waterfowl from the south. Before long, these lakes will start opening up, and I can get back to chasing gators or the mythical walleye.




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Last Go On Hard Water

The last Friday of February was the last chance I had to get out out on the ice and try and find a pike. When I got to my spot I drilled a few extra holes, but it was warm enough that I was able to fish out of a few holes someone else had drilled the day before. It was a spot I had fished before with Dad, Paul, Adam, and Cathy, so I sort of know the territory. This didn't prevent me from not pulling in a fish for the first two hours. I moved across the bay, drilled 5 holes and on the 6th I snapped off yet another blade on the auger...
Not only were there no fish there, but my auger was now out of commission. I packed up and headed back to my original spot and waited out a bite. I managed to catch a few perch, and even kept a couple before one of my flags finally went up.

 Nothing huge, but a pike none the less.
I fished for the next 4 hours before I caught another fish of any significance.
This was a much finer fish. As my trend stems, this fish was right at 30 inches.

I ended my evening shortly before sundown and didn't know what to do with my perch, so I gave them to the gentlemen fishing in the same bay I was in. They were very appreciative tip-up fisherman like myself. They were keeping some of their pike, and were dumbfounded that I threw my pike back. At least there are some nice people out there still.

This would inevitably be the end to my hard-water season. We managed a lot of big fish, and our share of challenging days on the ice, but I can say even with the short winter, I am ready for open water.


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