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.