GRANDDAD'S .22

My shooting experience was limited to my Crossman BB gun before we moved to Greensburg. I was 11 and completely obsessed with fishing, and even though I had spent my life to that point living in large urban areas, I had a strong attraction to hunting. I read every hunting magazine I could get my hands on, and I was mesmerized by my granddad’s stories of hunting in Kansas and Colorado. Moving to a small town in southcentral Kansas opened the door to hunting for me.

A part of that move was Mom and Dad coming home. Mom had been born in Greensburg and Dad was born in Haviland. Dad’s family still owned land south of Haviland, and when he reconnected with the abandoned homestead where he had lived as a boy, we found a perfect place to plink. I still remember putting my first holes in a tin can with a .22 rifle.

The old bolt-action .22 had always been in my dad’s closet next to the canvas and leather case that held his shotgun. The .22’s wood stock was stripped bare of stain and varnish – a refinish job Dad hadn’t completed. That first winter in Greensburg, I proposed to Dad that refinishing the stock would be a good seventh-grade woodshop project.

“That’s a great idea. If you do a good job finishing that stock, the gun will be yours,” Dad said.

He then went on to tell me that Granddad had given him the gun. Even back then, that old Wards Westerfield had some age on it, but it was the best rifle in the world as far as I was concerned. Much later in life, I learned that my granddad’s brother had given him the gun sometime in the late 1920s to make up for breaking Granddad’s eye glasses. I don’t know where Granddad’s brother got the gun.

I spent what seemed like half a semester sanding the bare wood in shop class. Each time I would take it to Mr. Moore, our shop teacher, for approval, he’d slide his hands over the wood, pull a mechanical pencil from the pocket of his coveralls, then make some pencil marks where it needed more work. Mr. Moore discovered a small crack near the grip, and he showed me how to work wood glue into it before we clamped it tightly together .

Finally, I stained the white pine with a dark walnut stain. Then I spread a satin wax finish over it and polished it. When I showed it to Dad, he seemed impressed. We reassembled the stock to the barrel and action, and he handed me “my” gun, commenting on how smooth the finish was. I was proud.

I still have the gun. I’ve hunted some rabbits and squirrels with it over the years, but mostly I just get it out of the gun safe from time to time to remember. I’ll notice dust on the scope lenses and wipe them clean before shouldering the rifle. As I peer through scope, I remember my twelfth Christmas. I can actually remember opening that long, narrow present to uncover a Weaver box holding a variable power scope and rings. It wasn’t really a surprise. I had asked for a scope, but I was blissfully happy. We had to take the gun to a gunsmith just outside of Rozel so he could machine grooves into the barrel and install the scope. He must have known what he was doing because 40 years later that gun will still drive tacks.

It’s one of those old guns that has no market value to speak of. It was built by Mossberg for Montgomery Wards, and it was not an expensive gun at the time. The barrel shows evidence of rust from many years ago, and the crack in the stock still shows. The wood still holds my junior high woodshop class stain and wax, but the bolt action still works smoothly. I’m stuck with it for sentimental reasons, and I’ll always treasure it as part of my own hunting heritage.

The Perfect Hunt

It was mid-November 1972, and we didn’t have eighth-grade basketball practice that Wednesday afternoon before Thanksgiving. Instead of goofing off with a couple of buddies on the six-block walk from school like usual, I hustled straight home. Granddad and Grandma had arrived the evening before, traveling from their home in Canon City, Colo., to stay with us over the holidays. I was looking forward to spending time with them.
When I burst through the door, cheeks red from the brisk November wind, Grandma smiled and in her soft, slow drawl, asked me where my hat was. I told her it wasn’t cold enough for a hat, and she just clicked her tongue at me. Granddad motioned for me to sit with him. I settled next to Granddad on the couch, and he patted my knee and mentioned something about pheasant hunting. I had been looking forward to hunting together over the weekend and assumed that’s what he was talking about. My eyes got as big as saucers when he clarified that he thought we had time for a short hunt that evening.
“We visited the farm this morning,” he said. “Dale got the milo on our eighty cut, and I think we have time to walk the stubble before it gets dark tonight. He said he’s been seeing some birds along the road,” Granddad added with a wink.
I exploded off the couch and tore through my bedroom, tossing clothes off a pile in my closet while looking for old jeans and my hunting boots. I changed, grabbed my tan hunting vest and cap, cased my 20-gauge and was back in the living room before Granddad could finish tying his boots. He chuckled, “Slow down, son. We’ve got time.”
The 10-mile drive to the farm seemed to take forever, and as we drove, I thought about how we could hunt the stubble. Dad and I had hunted the 80 earlier that season before the milo was cut, and we’d seen birds. But as we pulled up on the west end of the field, I silently wondered how just two of us would flush any pheasants in the open stubble. I was only in my second hunting season, but I knew enough to be skeptical. Granddad sensed this, so he laid out his plan.
“I think we can split up. I’ll let you off at this end, and I’ll drive to the other. Then we’ll walk toward each other. That might confuse an old rooster long enough for one of us to get a shot. We’ll have to keep each other in sight and be very careful about where we can shoot safely,” he added as I quietly slipped out of the car.
As I watch Granddad drive off, I was still unconvinced. The field was flat, and I could easily see him as he walked to a row about half-way in and waved to me. We started our slow walk toward each other. I wasn’t expecting to see any pheasants, at least not within shotgun range, but when we were about 80 yards apart, I heard something to my left. As I swung around, a magnificent rooster cackled its way into the sky. The noise and shock of a rooster flush always flustered me (it still does), and my panic was doubled because I was so complacent. I rushed my gun mount, and the butt plate slipped too high on my shoulder. I slid it back into position, but by then the bird was out of my range. The shot was futile.
“Dang it,” I mumbled under my breath, as I grinned sheepishly and shrugged at Granddad. “He was right.”
Granddad just nodded and continued walking methodically toward me. Five steps later, another rooster flushed near me, taking the same route as the first. I was more ready this time and only half has flustered. I swung through the bird, shot once, and it crumpled. I was in disbelief — because I got a second chance and because I dropped the bird stone dead.
That was the hunt; 45 minutes, two birds flushed and one in the bag. I was elated. I felt proud of our success, and it didn’t hurt my ego when Granddad bragged about the shot I made. Thinking about that afternoon is still gratifying. I can see a snippet of my life that was perfect. No 13-year-old boy loved his grandfather more than I loved that man.
Forty years later and I can still immerse myself in the thrill of that hunt and my feelings for Granddad. Granddad’s been gone 32 years, but I am forever grateful for our relationship and can’t imagine my life without it. Hunting and fishing together was part of our bond, and I know now I was one of the lucky sons. Never underestimate the power of passing it on.

Something To Look Forward To

Hunting has always given me something to look forward to. When I was 13, opening day of pheasant season was a big day that couldn't arrive soon enough. I usually started to get the fever in August when my family would take Sunday evening drives in the country. I'd be watching for pheasants -- scouting. But I didn't have to see lots of pheasants to be excited for opening day. As a boy, I didn't know how important the camaraderie would become, and I didn't have the foggiest idea how important hunting would be in my life. I just knew that something new and exciting was going to happen, and I loved every minute of it, whether there were lots of birds or not.

Today, I understand how important hunting has been in my life -- how important it is to be in the field with certain people and dogs, and I fully appreciate every day. I'm looking forward to the hunting seasons even though the prospects for good bird populations in my area aren't good. The drought and heat have taken a toll on pheasant and quail populations, I'm afraid. But I'm still making plans to hunt. I've already made arrangements for my cousin to join me on opening day. Last year's bird hunting was disappointing, but we had memorable experiences, hunting ducks and even did a little crappie fishing. We made the best of what we found. We'll do the same this year.

Kansas provides a variety of opportunities, and we'll stay flexible and enjoy each other's company. I can't wait for hunting season!

No Substitute For A Mentor

I've written often about individuals who've mentored me, and how fortunate I am to know them. I've learned plenty about the outdoors by reading, watching video and just getting out there, but I learned invaluable lessons from mentors; lessons that helped me be more successful, safer, and legal in the field. Recently, I've had a couple phone calls from potential hunters wondering how to get started. Both were men in their 40s. Neither had any hunting experience, and neither knew anyone who hunted.

So what can they do? My advice is get acquainted with a hunter or hunters because there really is no substitute for an experienced mentor. And I know that's not as easy as it may sound. While most hunters I know freely mentor people, hunting is very personal. Everyone hunts for different reasons, and those reasons are shaped by life experiences, personality and lifestyle. So just walking up to someone who looks like a hunter and asking them for help learning about hunting may get a cold shoulder. However, getting to know a hunter first will nearly always result in the transfer of information and possibly personal mentoring.

I recommend getting to know hunters through conservation organizations, local gun clubs or outdoor shows and events. It will take time, but conservation organizations such as Ducks Unlimited, the Kansas Wildlife Federation, Pheasants Forever, or the National Wild Turkey Federation are made up of hunters and outdoor people. When they learn of your interest, desire and commitment, they'll take you in. Likewise, local trap, skeet and sporting clays ranges include many members who hunt. The small clubs are always recruiting new members, so newcomers and beginners are usually welcomed.

Just remember, a potential mentor will want to know you and trust you before any mentoring will takes place. Developing a trusting relationship takes time. Get to know people and let them get to know you, then you can begin a journey to become a hunter.

A Hunt Etched In Memory

It was mid-November, and I was out of eighth-grade basketball practice early. Granddad and Grandma were in town, and Granddad told me he thought we had time for a short pheasant hunt before dark. I tore through my room, rummaging through a pile of clothes in my close to find my old jeans, boots, tan vest and hunting cap. I dressed hurriedly, cased the 20-guage and ran through the house to the living room where Granddad patiently waited. I was READY.

In 20 minutes, we were parked on the land Granddad and Grandma still owned from the family farm. It was milo stubble, and while we'd seen birds in the field before the milo was cut early in the season, I was not optimistic that the two of us would find any birds. I was a rank beginner, but I had a couple of pheasant seasons under my belt, and I knew enough to know that wily rooster pheasants would easily out-maneuver two hunters in the open stubble. However, Granddad a plan. He dropped me off at one end, then drove to the other other end. "We'll walk toward each other," he said. "And we might be able to get a bird to flush between us. You'll have be really careful, and know where you can shoot safely."

I still wasn't convinced, but I was game. It wasn't a large field and it was flat, so I could easily see Granddad when he got in position. After he waved, we started a deliberate walk toward each other. I distinctly remember when were about 70 or 80 yards apart that a rooster flushed in front of me, flying to my left away from Granddad. It was a safe, open shot, but in my panic to shoulder the gun and shoot, I pulled the butt stock clear above my shoulder. By the time I pulled it back into position and took a shot, the bird was likely out of range, and I missed. The flush of a rooster pheasant always flustered me, and it still does today. I remember thinking that maybe Granddad knew what he was doing, after all. I looked back to him and shrugged and he just grinned and kept walking toward me at a measured pace. I was on full alert when another rooster flushed. This one was closer to me, and it followed the same route as the first one. I swung the shotgun up and through and pulled the trigger. The bird crumpled.

That was it for the evening. Two birds flushed, one bagged, but I was ecstatic. I'll never forget how proud I felt, and it didn't hurt that Granddad bragged about my shot when we got home. I don't think any 13-year-old boy every loved his grandfather more than I loved that man. That was more than 30 years ago, and the spontaneous hunt that lasted less than two hours remains one of my most treasured boyhood memories. Never underestimate the power of passing it on.

Summer Magic

One of my hobbies for the past two summers has been thinking up new ways to complain about the heat. One of my favorites was when I commented one day last July about how 95 degrees felt "cool." And I was serious! I guess compared to 105, 95 is cool. Then I realized that thinking 95 is cool is like thinking three-dollar gas is cheap. Anyway, I don't deal with the hot weather as well as I did when I was a kid. When I was 12, summer was  synonymous with outside. I have such fond memories of summer when I was that age, and none of those memories include being inside by the air conditioner. We road bikes to the county lake in the morning to fish. Back home by noon for lunch, then back on the bikes to the city pool by 2 p.m. We swam until 4 or so before heading home for supper. After supper we were back outside on our bikes cruising around town or shooting baskets in the driveway. At dusk, it wasn't unusual to get a neighborhood game of "Capture The Flag" going, which often lasted until well after dark. The next day, we got up and did it again. I don't remember ever worrying about how hot it was. Summer was outside, fishing, bike riding, swimming and neighborhood fun. Summer was magic.

Where Would I Be?

I was scrolling through my photo storage recently, looking for a particular image when I came across a photo my wife took in Colorado last year. It's one of my favorites of me and the big black dog trout fishing. I've always said Creede (the lab) isn't good at fishing, but he knows it's important. You can see it in his eyes, and you can see the joy on my face. The photo immediately immersed me in memories of fishing the Rio Grande. Then I wondered if those experiences would be as important and whether I'd be looking forward to our trip this fall as much if I hadn't grown up fishing with Granddad and Dad. Where would I be today with that in my past?

It's a scary thought, but it isn't real because I did grow up with that in my life. I don't dwell on the past other than to reminisce about good times, but when I think about how much those experiences have meant to me, I get pretty sentimental. Spending time outdoors with my family has been an enormous guiding factor in my life, and I'm indescribably happy that I have that. It's something to think about next time you're wondering if you have time for a short fishing trip with the kids. 

Try Panfish Now

Most kids learn to fish by catching panfish -- bluegill and green sunfish. Panfish are present in all waters, and in most small lakes and ponds, they are numerous. They're always hungry and easy to catch. I don't know too many veteran anglers who don't fondly reminisce about watching a bobber bounce as bluegill nibbled on the bait. As we progress as anglers, we often leave panfish behind while we pursue more "grownup" fish species. However, whatever your age, you can't deny that bluegills and green sunfish can be a blast to catch. And now is the time to catch them. Check out the 2012 Kansas Fishing Atlas  Find a pond, state fishing lake or community lake and fish the shallows. Bluegill have been on the spawning beds  for some time, but they're still shallow in many lakes. They'll hit small jigs, but the best way to catch them is still a small bobber and a hook baited with a piece of worm. It's hard to believe a fish that small can pull that hard, and if you're lucky enough to find some big bluegills -- 9- to 11-inchers -- hang on! Take a youngster and you'll find yourself watching the bobber through young eyes, and you'll feel 10 years old again.

Summer Practice

While the calendar might not make it officially summer, the temperature certainly does. Turkey season runs through the end of May, and Squirrel season opens June 1, but for most hunters, summer is the long wait for hunting seasons to re-open. Hunters may use the off-season to maintain gear, stay in shape and generally bide their time until Sept. 1 when the dove season opens. However, for wingshooters, summer is the time to practice shotgun skills. Most Kansas communities, large and small, have a local trap and skeet club or sporting clays course. Nearly all clubs have a designated evening for practice, and members always welcome new and young shooters. An evening at the shooting range is a great way to improve your wingshooting skills, and you'll likely meet some interesting, like-minded people. Kids are always welcome, and rigid gun safety protocol at gun clubs is great reinforcement for young shooters. Take a young shooter to the gun club this summer; you'll both have a ball.

A Creek Runs Through It

When I was a kid, a creek was like a magnet to me. If it had running water and fish in it, I could not stay away. I remember a tiny creek that ran through a golf course where me and a friend spent countless hours catching creek chubs and crawdads. Even though we both owned fishing poles, making due with wood slats, fishing line, hooks and some hot dogs and raw bacon seemed like more fun or more primitive. We probably caught more crawdads as we did fish, but they were just as exciting. Wherever I went, a creek or stream with running water drew me in. Of course fishing was the most fun, but even an intermittent drainage can provide opportunities for frog catching, wading, and just exploring the mud and cattails. Every kid should know the fun of exploring a creek. It doesn't require any planning or preparation. Just turn them loose on the creek and stand back. Making a fishing pole from a willow branch and catching a grasshopper or worm for bait will dramatically enhance the experience. Catching a fish would be just icing on the cake. Any nearby creek, large our small, will do. Get the kids out this weekend and let them explore the magic of a creek.

PASS IT ON WITH PATIENCE

This spring, one of my co-workers came in to discuss his plans for his son's first turkey hunt. Dustin's boy, Hunter, is 8 and has been accompanying his mother and father in the field since he was old enough to walk. This spring, Hunter was ready to shoot a turkey. Dustin borrowed a youth-model, 20 ga. semi-automatic shotgun, and the two practiced shooting stationary targets for a couple of weeks before the youth season opened. On their second hunt, Hunter made a great shot on a nice tom. Father and son were thrilled and proud. That experience gave Hunter the confidence to learn to shoot flying targets. Dustin brought him to the local gun club on a recent evening and before members started shooting five-stand, Hunter was allowed to shoot an incoming target. After a a little instruction, Hunter smoked the target on his first attempt. Hunter appeared elated with his success, but when asked if he wanted to shoot again, he declined. He rubbed his shoulder, which was smarting a little from the recoil, and there was obviously some anxiety about shooting in front of other shooters. I thought, "Maybe this kid knows to quit while he's ahead." We all bragged about him breaking his first target and that his break percentage was 100 percent. We didn't push him to shoot more. He and Dad hung around and watched others shoot five-stand and trap. In no time, Hunter was champing at the bit to shoot again. When the trap shooters were done, Dad let him shoot a few trap targets from just behind the house. He broke the first one before missing a couple. He was satisfied and ready to quit. And again, we didn't push him to shoot more than he wanted. When he left that evening, Hunter was jabbering about how much fun he'd had, thanking members who helped him, and making plans to return next week. The point is, Hunter was allowed to progress at his own speed. He made the decision when and how much he shot, and he came away with a positive experience. It's easy to get caught up in the excitement of a young shooter's initial success and not pay attention to their emotions and feelings. Be patient. Always ask if they want to shoot again, and avoid putting them in situations that could embarrass them or make them feel uncomfortable. Remember that learning outdoor skills such as wingshooting is a life-long process and it's all part of the journey to becoming a hunter. Take time to enjoy every step.

Shooting Fun

I'll never forget the summer I was 12 years old, and Dad took me to shoot trap at the Kinsley Gun Club. We had started pheasant hunting the previous fall, and improving our shotgun skills was a primary motivation. Neither of us knew anything about trap shooting, but local club members welcomed us and were generous with helpful hints. One shooter from Greensburg, Larry Schmidt, took special interest in helping me and even loaned me a gun that first year. We shot regularly for a couple of summers before I got busy with other activities and stopped making time for shooting. However, I never forgot the fun and great friendships we made. Much later in life, I became associated with another gun club and found the same kind of welcoming, friendly attitude. I've consistently met good people at gun clubs and shooting events, and I've seen new and young shooters welcomed everywhere I've been. Shooting at a local gun club is an inexpensive, safe and enjoyable activity for youngsters, and it could keep them from other less wholesome activities. Get involved with your local gun club or inquire with your local 4-H club to see if it sponsors a 4-H Shooting Sports Program. You and your young shooters will meet great people and have a great time. And you'll develop shotgun skills that will make next fall's hunting seasons much more enjoyable. By the way, the Kinsley Gun Club is still going strong and welcoming young shooters. Each fall, the club hosts the Kinsley Kids Klassic when young shooters from around the state gather for a competition. I'll keep you informed about his year's event.

Mentoring Payback

I've written several entries about some of the wonderful mentors I've been fortunate enough to have in my life. One was a good friend I met at college who introduced me to hunting ducks over decoys. Kurt grew up hunting Cheyenne Bottoms, and he passed on his love of duck hunting to me. I've been hunting ducks over decoys ever since, and I've been indebted to Kurt for his generous help. However, while turkey hunting the other morning, I reminisced about past hunts, and I remembered one from more than 25 years ago. Though I wasn't exactly an expert spring turkey hunter or caller, I had a couple of spring toms under my belt, and I wanted Kurt to experience that thrill. We hunted for a day-and-a-half without results, then while driving to a new spot, we spotted a tom crossing a field. We had permission on the land, so we hurriedly moved to intercept the bird. We eased down an old shelterbelt and started calling. The bird was moving faster than we thought, and we were well behind it, but it was in the mood for love and gobbled immediately to my amateurish calls. We scrambled to get into shooting position, and I called again. Another gobble, this time closer. We both spotted the top of the bird's fan at the same time. The tom was strutting back toward us, but he had a creek and fence to cross. I knew enough at the time to be anxious about whether the bird would cross those obstacles, but I underestimated this bird again. Without the slightest hesitation, the tom flapped across the creek and went right back into strut, maintaining on a beeline toward our position. Then a cow and calf trotted between us and the bird. Again, the tom was undeterred. When it got to the fence, it was in range, but before I could tell Kurt to shoot, the bird squeezed under the bottom wire and went right back into its strut. Now it was in the clear and well within shotgun range, and Kurt made the shot. We were both elated, but the normally even-keyed Kurt was as excited as I'd ever seen him. I'd like think I paid him back in mentoring, but I think I enjoyed the turkey hunt as much as Kurt did.

Formula For Happy Kids

When I think back to some of my happiest times as a kid, they usually revolve around riding a bicycle with a fishing pole strapped to the handlebars. I once wrote that every kid should own a good rod and reel by the time they're five years old, and that for a happy childhood, they should get a bike when they're a little older. To top it off, they should have a fishing hole within bike-riding distance. I thought I was living in Utopia when our family moved to a small, central-Kansas town when I was 11 years old. Of course I had the rod and reel and bike, and now we lived about a mile from the state fishing lake. Yep, that first summer was heaven. Every morning, my cousin and I would ride to the lake and have a ball catching fish, frogs, tadpoles, and getting muddy. Every kid should find that kind of happiness, but I know not every kid can ride their bike to the lake. However, it is possible, even necessary, to get a youngster their own rod and reel. Buy a quality spincast reel. I've spent too much time working on old hand-me-down or cheap reels kids brought to fishing clinics. A good reel doesn't have to break the bank, but a quality spincast reel will ensure more time fishing and less time working on the reel.  A 5 1/2- or 6-foot medium-light casting rod will work for about any situation. Buy each youngster a small tackle box of their own, and fill it with a selection of spinners, jigs, a few small crankbaits and a couple of bobbers. Then, take them fishing! Take advantage of the great spring weather we're having and go to your local state or community lake. You'll find a listing of all fishing waters in the 2012 Fishing Regulations Summary, and there is even a Family Friendly designation for community lakes suited for family outings. Get out and pass it on. I can assure you, your kids will never forget.

Fishin' Time

You gotta love spring. Even though this has been a mild winter for Kansas, spring is a welcome season. Spring brings warm temperatures, new growth, and most importantly, cooperative fish. You can find and catch fish in shallow water in the spring, and fish are always easiest to catch when they are shallow. First, fish move shallow to find warmer water and food. Soon after, they move shallow to prepare for the spawn. This is a perfect time to take a new or young angler. When fish are concentrated in shallow water near shore, they are not only easy to find and catch, they are accessible to bank anglers. And maybe one of the best ways to catch them is with a bobber and a small jig. It's an easy rig for a youngster to handle, and it works. The bobber keeps the jig from sinking into and snagging on rocks or brush, and it holds the jig tantalizingly in front of the fish. Even though springtime fish are hungry and eager to bite, cool water makes them somewhat sluggish, so a small, slow-moving bait is best. Let the bobber sit; wave action will be enough movement. Try to get it as close to the brush and weeds as possible, and set the hook if it goes under. Seeing a bobber go under is exciting, even if it's not on you line. And while you can catch just about any pond fish with this rig, crappie might be the most sought-after. Nothing tastes better than fresh crappie fillets. Try the rig in a pond or state fishing lake this spring, and don't forget the kids.

TAKE ADVANTAGE OF SMALL WATERS

I've used it and I'll bet you have, too. We probably all use the excuse, "I don't have time to go fishing," too often. The problem is that you'll be just as busy tomorrow and the next day. Making time for really important stuff like fishing is important to your health. I've found a way to go fishing more often by rediscovering small waters. There are a couple of local ponds that provide great fishing, and I can be on the water in less than 30 minutes. Now that we're back on Daylight Savings Time, an evening fishing trip after work is doable. Recently, my dad, aunt and I took advantage of unseasonably warm weather and found the crappie cooperative. We didn't catch a bunch, but those we caught were large and scrappy. Take advantage of the next really nice day this month and fish a small pond or lake close to home. Small waters warm up more quickly than larger lakes, so March is a perfect time to fish them. Take a youngster or adult friend along, and you'll both be glad you did. You'll be amazed at how just a few hours of fishing can improve you're mood and general outlook on life.

Time For Turkey Prep

In a little over a month, the spring turkey season will be on us. I've written before that I believe the spring turkey season is the perfect starter hunt for young hunters. It's safe with the adult in total control of the shotgun and the youth. Hunting is done from a stationary position or blind, and the adult can be right next to the youngster to provide guidance. Spring weather is mild, and hunts usually only last a couple of hours. And hearing a tom gobble in response to the call, getting closer and closer, creates an incredibly exciting hunt.

The season for youth, archers and hunters with disabilities opens April 1 and runs for 10 days. This is a fantastic opportunity to get a kid out without a lot of competition from other hunters. All the spring WIHA areas are open, and the public hunting areas won't be crowded. Make plans now to take a youngster turkey hunting, and the first thing to do is give him or her a box call. Practicing with calls is an integral part of turkey hunting, and it's lots of fun. A box call is easy to use, and with a little practice now, a young hunter will be ready to call in a bird by the April 1 opener.

Find A Gateway

The purpose of the Pass It On program is to recruit new hunters, and we have focused on youth because they are our future. I've decided that the only effective recruitment efforts involve getting kids outside participating. We've established youth hunting seasons, special youth hunts and conduct outdoor skills events to give youngsters and their parents safe and convenient outdoor opportunities. The outdoor skills events teach skills important to being ethical and successful hunters, but they do more than that. Teaching a youngster to shoot a shotgun or bow exposes them to an outdoor activity they won't get anywhere else. I see it as a gateway to hunting.

My gateway to hunting was actually fishing. Some of my earliest memories are of fishing trips with my parents and grandparents. I was totally obsessed with fish, water and fishing. As I got older, I had an interest in hunting, but I didn't get the chance to shoot or hunt until my family moved to a small rural community in southcentral Kansas. Until that time, we'd lived in the suburbs of large urban areas where shooting and hunting just weren't in the cards.

The Kansas population has become largely urban, and for too many of those kids, shooting and hunting aren't available. However, if we can provide a safe, convenient venue for the parents and kids to learn about hunting and outdoor skills, we'll find those kids who are like I was, kids who will discover something they love.

There are many gateways to hunting, including fishing, hiking, shed antler hunting, target shooting and more. Find the gateway and you might change the path of a young person's life. Never underestimate the power of passing it on.

Optimism Required

The duck season closed Sunday and the pheasant and quail seasons close today. It hasn't been a banner season in this area for either one. Our pheasant and quail numbers were down due to last summer's extreme heat and drought. And while record numbers of ducks were forecast, the drought reduced the amount of water in this area, and we never saw any build of up of ducks. Oh well, the weather was mild, and I enjoyed my time in the field with dogs and friends. My hunting partners and I are already talking about next year. If we get just a little more moisture in the next few months and we can avoid severe storms in May and June -- just maybe our bird numbers will rebound. I've been around long enough to see pheasant and quail make amazing recoveries when conditions were right for nesting and brood-rearing. There's hope. And we still have spring turkey season to look forward to. I don't hunt turkeys nearly as hard as I used to, but one or two mornings in the woods will carry me over until dove season.

Optimism and hope are necessary for hunters. Every year is different, and so much of what dictates the quality of our seasons is out of our control. You have to have optimism. I was reminded of that this past Saturday. A friend and I decided to hunt, even though we hadn't seen many ducks lately and our waterhole was getting very low. We hoped the warm temperatures had kept the water open, and we hoped we see a few ducks on our last hunt of the season. However, hope waned when we arrived to find ice covering the pond and the water lower than expected. We broke ice and placed a few decoys anyway. After an hour or so, we sort of gave up and decided ducks weren't in the cards. Guns were out of reach and we were idly chatting when about 25 wigeon and mallards coasted in over the decoys. No shots were fired, and we cussed our lack of attention causing a missed opportunity.  Only a couple more birds were seen, and we each took a mallard drake, but we laughed about what could have been if we hadn't lost optimism.

We'll get 'em next year.

The Greatest Hunting Mentors

I've written a lot lately about mentors because I think they're important to our hunting heritage, and I think they too often go unnoticed. However, I failed to mention a group of individuals who are undoubtedly our greatest hunting mentors: hunter education instructors. Teaching a class in a Hunter Education Course may not fit your definition of mentoring, but when you look closely at the dedicated individuals who teach, you'll see it differently. And for many, calling them dedicated is inadequate. There is a core group within this collection who spend countless hours and weekends conducting classes. They don't do it for the money because there isn't any, and they don't look for recognition. They do it for the kids. And most take it a step further and introduce  youngsters to hunting when they aren't teaching. These instructors teach the curriculum, following the student manual, but they also communicate their passion for hunting, and that's really what mentoring is about. If it's been years since you took a hunter education class, you should take another one. Better yet, find a youngster who has an interest and enroll with them. The new alternative delivery that combines at-home internet study with a field day of shooting, gun handling and trail walks is not only educational, but students have a blast. And it's truly  gratifying to see these remarkable instructors at work.

Reluctant Mentors?

This winter I read a newspaper editorial about the writer's frustration with the department's Special Hunts Program. The program is designed to provide high-quality opportunities to hunters by limiting the number of hunters in an area on a given day through a lottery draw process. Our public lands managers realize that not everyone has exclusive access to private land and that some hunters avoid open public land because of hunting pressure. By going through the application process, hunters can draw opportunities for a variety of hunts, including waterfowl, upland birds, and deer. There are also hunts that cater to youth and novice hunters -- part of the department's hunter recruitment and retention program. The writer was dismayed that mentors would be allowed to hunt and he didn't agree with the definition of novice. He also took issue with the fact that some of these hunts took place on areas not previously open to hunting, or refuges, as he called them. In my opinion, his view of the entire program was clouded by a few hunts he disagreed with and the fact that he missed the application period. However, my real problem with his piece was his interpretation that the days when "adults were willing to give of their time to see youngsters enjoy life" were gone. He thought that today's adults wouldn't take youth hunting without the lure of hunting themselves.

I wonder how many hunters the writer actually knows. I'm not sure I know a hunter who hasn't mentored someone, and most mentor every season. It's a natural part of the hunting heritage. However, we've identified "not enough time" as one of the biggest barriers to hunting, so if we can provide high-quality opportunities for both mentor and youth or novice hunters, why wouldn't we?

And I have no problem with mentors hunting with youth. I don't know about you, but I learned to hunt by hunting with my dad and granddad. I watched and learned, and it was a natural process. When Dad or Granddad killed a bird, I was as proud as if I had bagged the bird, and I felt part of our success. Most public land managers who design these hunts want participation. They especially want youth involved, and I guess they're not worried about an adult mentor's real motivation.

The Special Hunts Program is popular. In fact, I think this is the first negative comment I've seen, but I guess we can't please everyone. But make no mistake, today's hunters are "Passing It On."

Simple Outdoor Pleasures

I recently glanced at a photo taken earlier this fall and was immediately flooded with good feelings. It was a picture of me and Creede, by 11-year-old black lab, sitting in a make-shift duck blind. It wasn't a particularly good day for duck hunting because it was too warm and almost dead calm. The ducks didn't fly, but my cousin and me and the Big Black Dog had a great time. We enjoyed being miles from town on a special piece of land lush with a flowing spring, especially noteworthy during the prolonged drought. While calm winds didn't keep the ducks moving, the quiet allowed us to hear quail whistle just before dawn. We heard geese honking in an apparent territorial dispute a quarter mile to the south, and we heard the crunching footsteps of a white-tailed buck that cruised through the creek bottom behind us checking for does. I'll admit we were a little frustrated with the lack of ducks, but viewing the photo gave me only positive feelings. Hunting starts as a past-time or hobby, but if you stay with it long enough, it becomes part of your being. It's not so much that you go hunting but that you are a hunter, and you learn to enjoy every minute of every day in the field. It's an old cliche, but it really does boil down to just being there. Being there was important and it fuels the memory today and will fuel the memory 20 years from now. There aren't a lot of things in my life that impact me that way. I'm really glad Dad took me hunting 40 years ago.