Bob's Bitchings!

2026-01-09T23:40:00.001-06:00

Next Stop

By Bob Zettler

January 9, 2026

Last year while I was recuperating from my crash when I coded in the ER, I had a lot of time on my hands as I have tried to recuperate. And when I was awake in bed, I would many times get on the internet. One day this shirt design popped up multiple times in the Google targeted ads. And once I followed the link to get a better look at the pictures on this shirt, “60’s”, I knew I had to have it.

Why?

It shows images of so many of the popular TV shows people my age (now) grew up with. I can still remember the first TV we had. It was a tabletop model in an actual wood cabinet and as all television sets back then, it was CRT (Cathode Ray Tube). Ours was a black and white picture CRT and most all of our entertainment came through it.

And like a number of kids back then, we were glued to what it offered. I believe it had VHF and UHF capability but in Champaign we were limited to what our antennae could bring to us - and back then it was Channels 3 (CBS), 12 (PBS) and 15 (UHF, an NBC station). Some days we could pickup Channel 17 in Decatur, an ABC affiliate, and on those rare atmospheric nights, I even got channels from St. Louis (11), and elsewhere like Indianapolis, Peoria and even Chicago. And all those channels from a simple (cheap) BOWTIE antennae on a 20’ pole that I would have to go outside to turn by hand in order to get a better picture.

Ahhh, but it was the programming that became our addiction. So much so, that our dinner table moved into the living room to be with the TV and we ate off of the original TV trays! And until WAND Channel 17, the ABC affiliate in Decatur boosted its signal, I was just plain jealous of those who could experience programs such as, The Untouchables, The Real McCoys, and of course, The Flintstones that you could only watch on ABC

So we were relegated to primarily CBS and NBC programming and openly craved the day when ABC could enter our homes.

So as you look at this shirt, “The 60’s”, you will find the Munsters, Bonanza, Bewitched, Lucy, Andy Griffith, the Rifleman, Dobie Gillis, Hazel, and a lot more. Even Walter, Barnabas, Fess Parker, Beaver, and…dozens more. And for me personally it serves as a reminder of what was. And how addicted I was to that escape. I mean when I was maybe 12 or so, I rigged up a reel-to-reel tape recorder to directly record the theme songs and music from as many programs as I could. There wasn’t a speaker, headset, earphone or any kind of socket I could plug into on the TV in order to capture the best copy. As such, I patched a cable directly from the televisions speaker to the microphone input.

And I had dozens of tapes filled not only with the music but other things such as the one night I was listening to radio traffic on my Knight/Heath Kit shortwave when I kept hearing this broadcast from the Coast Guard to boat traffic of traffic in the water there. Now I couldn’t figure out what they were talking about on that cold, December 15, 1967 night until a news flash came across on the TV that basically said, “The Point Pleasant Bridge, also known as the Silver Bridge, collapsed into the Ohio River on December 15, 1967, killing 46 people during rush hour due to a small crack in a critical eyebar, leading to a total failure of the non-redundant suspension chain.”

But the one that had me recording hours and hours started on April 13, 1970, and that was the Apollo 13 explosion and amazing return home in a crippled spacecraft. Yes, I was older by then but space had been my major passion since before our family stopped at Cocoa Brach and hoped to witness a launch from Cape Canerval in 1961.

Within a couple (or more) years before that, we had finally got our first color TV. An RCA, with a huge 25” CRT screen! And it weighed a ton… And by now, we could get Channel 17 with our antennae (NO cable, streaming or home entertainment centers back then). Think about that revolution for a minute? First came SONY Betamax in 1975, then VHS players the following year. By the 1980s, Laser Disk players started showing up in homes. Move forward almost ten years and it was DVDs, followed by Blu-Ray and then 4K disks.

But for the average household, it was the Black and White television sets like our 19-inch (?) Crosely in the late 1950’s that got us hooked. Up until then we used our Kodak 8mm camera to obtain moving pictures of our lives and depended on the local movie theaters for the real experience. Interesting aside. In Champaign we had the Rialto, Co-Ed, and the RKO Orpheum and RKO Virginia theaters. And not many might remember but both of the RKO theaters had been converted from a former Vaudeville type theater built after the turn of the 19th Century. The were designed to accommodate both live vaudeville performances and "moving pictures". And, thankfully, the city worked to preserve that heritage and both are still standing but recommissioned. I digress as usual.

Yes, televisions and the programming they brought into our homes had a major impact on young and old. However, old ways sometimes take time to evolve as we still used that Kodak wind-up 8 mm movie Camera well into the 1970’s and it captured a lot of our families history AND even mankind history brought right into our living rooms!

I still remember Apollo 11 landing on the moon. We were all still up and once they were safe and deployed the black and white video camera on the Lunar Module, I used that 8mm to try and capture those images for posterity sake. This Kodak was an interesting design. It shot 50 foot of film on a 25 foot reel. Say what! Yep, it’s just that you had to open the camera when tha first 25 foot had been exposed, turn it over, and shoot the other side. Then the Lab who developed it put it on a 50’ roll. Now you had to do the “turning over” under a blanket as the ambient light would expose the film, so I took great care getting that last 25’!

I was so excited when Dad had it developed and brought it home. That night I set up the projector and screen so we could ALL watch this historic event again and again. No time for popcorn. The lights are dimmed and projector starts doing its job. But first, we get to watch a movie Dad had taken of the Ringling Brothers and Barnum and Bailey Circus when they had been at the Assembly Hall that year. It’s a three ring circus and…what the %@#$! Here we are watching the circus acts when all of a sudden here comes this huge ghostly apparition bounding across the screen AND IN A SPACESUIT! It took us a moment or two to get over the shock and begin to understand that “we” had DOUBLE-EXPOSED the film. We had turned the film over twice, not once and somehow it got two separate exposures on one film! While I was not happy at first, I’ve come to recognize this as an exceptional movie that makes people laugh when they see it. I’m smiling now as I write this in fact. And it allows us to be able to still savor these events, places, people almost 60 years later.

While I’m on the subject of this camera AND our “talent(s)” in creating memories, I swear my Father used it to capture most of the July Fourth parades and fireworks for years. It’s impossible to tell where one year ends and another begins for the fireworks at Memorial Stadium had the similar fireworks displays most every year. And just before the Grand Finale, there was always Niagara Falls, and Dad had it all. As for the parades, there would be the marching bands, clowns aplenty, Shriners, floats, and by the 1960’s, protesters and even candy thrown from the parade participants. My Father tried to capture it ALL! However, his idea was to pan the camera fast everywhere and you had to be exceptional to figure out what was what.

And as my own memories start to fade somewhat, or get mixed together where reality, memories, and maybe a tad of imagination are mashed together - and I feel like I’m in an episode of “My Three Sons” or even the “Outer Limits” - my taking the time to try and recapture some of the essence and impact of Television is not only therapy but will hopefully let others learn a little about me AND know that they aren’t alone…

Yes, nowadays I wish I could travel back to some of those times and places, as they are my “Stop at Willoughby.”

My Hospitalizations

2025-01-13T02:34:00.002-06:00

Been an interesting start to the new year.

I had developed a health issue that I had never experienced before that got worse and ended up at Memorial Hospital on the 29th. Great staff there, at least on how well they took care of me, BUT they also discovered I had Covid!

I didn’t doubt it as the symptoms had begun to exhibit themselves that day but I thought it was just the start of a bad cold I got from my buddies duck hunting…turns out two of them had it too.

Fortunately it was but a complication and I have been recovering nonetheless since then with multiple antibiotics, etc.

I believe I’m on the mend but thought I ought to post something now that I am better.

I had been really pushing myself for weeks prior to all this and I really wasn’t doing well. But you know guys, we just keep going sometimes till we drop…

Again, thanks to Memorial for getting me back on the street.

PS. YOU all have to understand that in my 71 years, I had only been in the hospital four times since birth.

The first shouldn’t count but my Father wanted to make sure all went well wwitha multiple impacted and infected wisdom teeth extraction. And since this was 1972 and he was Administrator at the hospital, the oral surgeon agreed and it all went smoothly that Thursday morning. In fact, that Saturday night I was at Red Lion drinking a Tom Collins when the manager got into a knock down fight outside the entrance. Can’t recall his name but he had long, shoulder-length light brown hair and could dish it out. And here I was, underage, with alcohol in my hand postoperative 48 hours, backing him up and keeping the other guy’s buddies from getting involved. I decided to leave when the police arrived…

The second time was just a quick ER visit at a free clinic in Berkeley, CA – I didn’t have insurance. I had gotten pretty inebriated down at Aptos Beach with Randall Holdren that weekend and thought I had broken my leg. While it was just bruised I found my visit, shall we say…interesting, as the patient on the other side of the curtain either had a knife sticking out of him or something similar. This was 1973.

The third time was In 1974 and I was in the USAF where I had to have a tonsillectomy. That one had me, shall we say…nervous. I was all alone and at Wilford Hall Hospital down in San Antonio. I went in on a Wednesday for a Thursday morning surgery.

This was a major hospital and they placed me in the throat cancer ward where most of the patients had or were being treated for throat cancer. It wasn’t a pretty sight watching these men with faces disfigured by surgeries and treatments, with some still taking a puff or two through a tube…

Mine was an assembly line surgical procedure and I was standing by my bed waiting on the anesthesiologist to arrive and start on me, nervous as all get out, when a voice came out of nowhere and said to me, “Mr. Zettler, it’s time.”

Now I don’t know about your religious beliefs but this one had my complete attention. I responded, “What”, and the voice once again rang out in my head, “It’s time.” Now I was scared shitless. Then the voice said, “This is the nurses station. Look behind the curtain, we are on a speaker.”

I bet they knew what they were doing and got a great laugh at my expence!! Well I will get them back. I know they ask you your name in recovery and I’m going to reply, “George Washington.” That will show them!

Well, they got me started and rolled up or over to the surgical area where I was but one f many laying in wait for our turn in surgery. They get me in and before I could reinforce it was my tonsils they were after and not my testicles, I found myself already coming out of it in recovery with an O2 mask on. Now this was not a private recovery area. And while I couldn’t sit up and count how many compatriots there were in there, the horrible moaning and the like eliminated my initial thought and I responded, “Bob Zettler. Now please get me out of here!”

Now I had an great Mother. Why do I add this here? Well shortly after I was brought back to my bed, she had somehow got through and had them bring me a phone so we could talk. That was 1974 and I still miss her.

One more aside for this hospital stay. The surgery was on Thursday, and I kept the ice going and residue bleeding was over in short order but Jello and pudding just wasn’t filling. So when the hospital screwed up the next morning and served me bacon, eggs and toast, I ate every last smidgen. The only issue I had from that surgery was they must have really pried my mouth open for it hurt like Hell to open it normally. So I took very small bites and nibbled it all down.

I know, I know. Most of you are thinking with as much as I talk that they shouldn’t have had any issue but it caused me issues for a long, long time.

Oh, and another nice thing was I got two weeks of convalescent leave after my hospital discharge that Sunday morning. So I added 10 days of vacation and went home for almost a month. Grew a beard, let the hair get longer and had a great time.

When I arrived back in San Antonio, I decided to see about going to a barber off-base (no stylists back then) to trim up my hair so I could continue to slick it back with Dippity Do. This would allow me when I was not on duty, to simply wash it off and my hair would not look like I was in the service – the Air Force has strong guidelines and rules about facial hair and ones head. You have to understand it was 1974 and I worked Rock concerts at the Hemisfair Arena and Municipal Auditorium, and did not want to look like a Narc…

Anyway, I went to the first barber shop I found a decent distance from Brooks AFB where I was stationed and told the barber what I wanted. Now I should have been more cautious or observant for I came to believe he and the oothers there were ALL retired military. Hell, probably Marines! Why? Cause the _______ gave me what we called either whitewalls or a buzz cut. And when he was done they all got a good laugh as I saw myself in the mirror. That was the last haircut I ever paid for while I was in the Air Force, as I cut my own after that! Yes, I was vain.

The next time was 1994. I was on a strong medication that the Walgreens pharmacist made a mistake and placed me in an overdose situation. So to be safe, I was admitted to the old Doctors Hospital. This was also at a low point in my life. My wife of just nine months decided to leave and subsequently sue for divorce where she wanted half of what I had. There is more to this story but not here. Suffice to say, I recovered from the meds, but it took a long time for the other…

Okay, that brings me up to date and I can add this to my list of stories for my family. My daughter gave me a gift called Storyworth. It’s a program that suggests story ideas and allows you to place any memories into it, where it can also be made into a bound book for family members.

That is a major regret of mine in life. That I don’t member many of the stories my parents told me about their live.

And they both had very interesting lives as my Father met my Mother during WWII in England, got married there, had a daughter, survived the war and then my Mother suffered the arduous journey to America as a War Bride and the discriminations by so many upon her arrival. I wish I had taken a tape recorder over the years to capture those memories…

2024-10-22T17:38:00.000-05:00

Hot potato, hot potato…

October 22. 2024

By Bob Zettler

From Wikipedia, “Hot potato is a party game that involves players gathering in a circle and tossing a small object such as a beanbag or even a real potato to each other while music plays.[1] The player who is holding the object when the music stops is eliminated.” There is even a song that we learned as children that goes something like this:

Hot potato, hot potato

Potato

STOP!

Well, sometimes one just cant stop…

Many, many years ago, probably in the Fall of 1969, I got a job at the first Ponderosa Steak House to open in the area. They had leveled the Adairs Dairy just south of the Hessel Boulevard on Neil Street to build this new restaurant.

Loved Adairs! When I was very young in the 1950s and into the early 1960’s, Adairs delivered bottled milk right to your front porch using a horse drawn wagon and depositing the returnable glass bottles of excellent milk into a metal, insulated box. I can still hear the “clop, clop, clop” of the horses hoves as they came up Hessel. Actually it was “clop, clop, clop, cloo” as they were four-legfed creatures, not three…but if digress as usual…

As I said, I got a job with Ponderosa when I was 16 and was hired with a number of fellow high school mates my age, and we opened that restaurant in either the Summer or early Fall that year. And, in another recent story of mine I discussed how I volunteered that I had a good memory when asked by their management (I didn’t and still don’t - and I have a lot of friends who will attest to that), and became their first order taker! I received a whole ten cents an hour extra and hour for that responsibility.

Anyway, I believe it was a Saturday and there had been a home football game, so the restaurant had been crowded, even more so than usual. And around 7pm I saw we were running very low on baked potatoes, so I informed the manager that night, Al Gobbles (sp?), who rushed out and filled one of the potatoe cookers with almost a 100 aluminum covered potatoes. Now the potatoes took nearly an hour to cook, and that, IMHO, was way too many potatoes and I said so, but diplomatically of course.

That didn’t sit well with Al, that a 16 year old was trying to tell an experienced 40-50+ year old man how to do his business. No big deal…right?

And time proved me right for that entire drawer of aluminum covered (now fully) baked potatoes had to be thrown out that evening as business petered out shortly after Al had filled the drawer…

As it was a Saturday night and a number of us had plans (right Randy?), I helped the cleanup crew take care of things so we could have a couple of hours of fun after we closed.

Towards the end, I went ahead and grabbed that tray/basket of 100 aluminum wrapped baked potatoes, and was carrying it outside to empty it in the dipsy-dumpster, when it happened!

One of those aluminum wrapped baked potatoes fell out of the tray and hit the new asphalt parking lot on this very, very cool Fall evening.

POOF it went AND as it hit, the hot potatoe burst through the aluminum wrap, all flakey and steamy, and it looked like someone had tossed a gas grenade.

COOOL!!!! WAY COOOOL!!!!

I wasn’t the only witness to this miracle and the rest of the crew came over as I grabbed one and threw it high into the air. And when it landed, POOOOOOF times 10!

Pretty soon everyone wanted to try this, and before too long, we had nearly emptied all those hot, aluminum wrapped baked potatoes. Man, that was cool we all agreed and shortly thereafter , the, doors were locked and everyone headed out to have some real FUN!

Now, again, this was 55 years ago but the basics of the night seem clear and memorable – for ALL involved…

As the next day was a Sunday, I slept in but went into work sometime that day. And that’s when it hit the fan AGAIN but for me now. What do I mean? Well something none of us discussed the night before and that was how would the parking lot look in the morning?

It looked something like the craters on the Moon I’m told, with bits of dried, hard, sticky potatoe remnants mixed in with hundreds of shreds of aluminum foil mixed in. And one of the bosses had arrived early that morning to discover this homemade diorama decorating his parking lot and knew his employees were most likely to blame…and he was correct-a-mundo!

From what I heard, the poor guy almost had a second heart attack and then began calling the crew at home who had worked the night before.

They were instructed to get their butts down there ASAP, where they were handed buckets of soapy water and a scrub brush and told in no uncertain terms they were to get every last remnant gone and then report to him when they were done.

Unfortunately, they didn’t get a hold of me, so I was spared this suicide mission. Suicide mission? Yep, for many of my friends (at the time) were then fired.

God, did I feel like an ___hole! I guess they kept me on, as after all, I was their number one order taker!

However, and this was now either 1969 or 1970, and hairstyles for males forced the Health Department to demand guys wear a hairnet when their hair was a certain length, so random hairs were kept off the food. And since mine wasn’t a military cut but had some length to it, a few weeks later. I was told to get a haircut…

Retaliation? Probably. But I got the haircut and when I came back into work a few days later I was immediately told to go home and not come back for two weeks…As it looked like it hadn’t been cut – BS!

Well. I cleaned out my locker and never went back. And even though I still love my aluminum wrapped baked potatoes, with lots of butter and sometimes sour cream. I have never once thrown another into the air where it would land on someone’s new asphalt parking lot!

Would you believe I haven’t done it twice since then…

EPILOUGE

I just now shared this draft with my blood-brother Randy Holdren, who was there that Saturday night, as a participant AND one of several they had come in to clean what he so aptly described, “it looked like a war zone!” and obtained his review and seal of approval.

We are more that friends still, and I still feel some guilt for the episode, BUT there was no malice intended. It was just a stupid act of some teenagers led by yours truly. And I am sorry that some people got fired before me, but, you have to admit if you could have experienced what we did that crisp, cool evening after work, that you too would most likely believe it was “Damn Cooooool too!!”

MY PERSONAL LIFETIME EXPERIENCE OF CONCERTS AND MORE

2024-07-29T01:10:00.004-05:00

By Bob Zettler

July 28, 2024

Led Zeppelin, Chicago Stadium, April 9, 1977.

(NOTE: I started writing this three months ago. Please forgive typos but let me know what you discovered.)

I continue to read posts and comments about rock bands we’ve seen and how they were. Now I’m from Champaign, Illinois, and that’s not exactly the Mecca for concerts – at least back in the late 60s, 1970s and even the 1980s. However, I did see a few there at the Assemby Hall, Red Lion Inn, a number of local bars on campus and around town, and then a bunch more later on in 1985 at Memorial Stadium.

And during my “formative” years, I lived in the East Bay area of California across from San Francisco, and then in San Antonio, Texas while in the USAF; 1973 and then 1974-1975, respectively. And, as such, saw and “experienced” a bunch of bands. And only God knows all of them as things seem to fade over time....

And, I just recalled that I even went to concerts and did reviews while at Parkland College from late 1975 through 1977 after I got out of the USAF. I remember Led Zepplin and…well I will add them to the list below. And, now (again) I probably went to concerts at SIU-C too. Man oh man, this just keeps growing!

However, the Internet can be your friend and there are now websites out the wazoo that provide snapshots on concert venues, group’s history, and the like that can assist one to try and remember what they forgot – and I am that such person!

The operative word is “TRY” as I have painfully discovered after hours of searching, comparing dates, venues and bands, that they are certainly not complete and even some are flat out inaccurate. Case in point. I was at the Armadillo World Headquarters in Austin for one of the best concerts I have experienced. There were at least three groups, including the Charlie Daniel’s Band, the Marshall Tucker Band and the original Lynyrd Skynyrd. Can’t find the date but it was either 1974 or 1975. And then I simply can’t find a concert that I consider one of the worst I ever “experienced” from I seem to recall in Champaign. They seemed to me to be a combination of Jethro Tull or B, S and T. But all I can recall is how bad their stage presence was in my opinion. But I don’t have a name and the Assembly Hall doesn’t list them from before February 1973. It’s enough to drive you batty!!

While not comprehensivee or complete, as there are gaps and lapses, I hope to have captured for posterities sake, most of those concerts I “experienced” from around 1969 to probably 1986.

WHOOPS! Here I am editing this introduction as WORD deleted it all and I couldn’t recover it but this reminded me of several other concerts I actually went to during that time period in St. Louis and Chicago. Now I’ll add them and I’ll probably continue to update, edit, delete, correct, etc., as memories or friends remind me of past “experiences.” You just have to understand that I am trying to share some of my life here. So here I go!

CHAMPAIGN, ST.LOUIS, CHICAGO and ????? 1969 to 1972 and 1975 to Today? – Assembly Hall, Red Lion Inn, Memorial Stadium, Panama Reds, Mabels, Chances R, United Center, Checkerdome etc.

The Kinks (new 8/12/24)

Romantics (new 8/12/24)

Blood, Sweat and Tears

The Byrds

Ten Years After

The Moody Blues

Chuck Berry

Jethro Tell

Rolling Stones

B.B. King

Ike & Tina Turner

Terry Reid

REO Speedwagon

Yes

Tormato?

ZZ Top

Atlanta Rhythm Section

Led Zeppelin

Starcastle

Head East

Chicago

One Eyed Jack’s

Pork and the Havana Ducks

Neil Diamond

Neil Sedaka

Captain and Tenille

Dan Fogelberg

Iron Butterfly

FARM AID 1985 (I had to dig deep on this one as several “good” websites did not list everyone.)

Alabama, Hoyt Axton, The Beach Boys, The Blasters, Bon Jovi, Jimmy Buffett, Glen Campbell, Johnny Cash, David Allan Coe, John Conlee, Charlie Daniels Band, John Denver, Bob Dylan, John Fogerty, Foreigner, Vince Gill, Vern Gosdin, Arlo Guthrie, Sammy Hagar, Merle Haggard, Daryl Hall, Emmylou Harris, Don Henley, Waylon Jennings, Billy Joel, Randy Newman, George Jones, Rickie Lee Jones, B.B. King, Carole King, Kris Kristofferson, Huey Lewis, Lone Justice, Loretta Lynn, Roger McGuinn, John Mellencamp, Roger Miller, Joni Mitchell, Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, Willie Nelson, Roy Orbison, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, Charley Pride, Bonnie Raitt, Lou Reed, Kenny Rogers, Brian Setzer, Sissy Spacek, Tanya Tucker, Eddie Van Halen, Debra Winger, Neil Young, Dave Milsap, Joe Ely, Judy Rodman, X

CALIFORNIA 1973 at Winterland, Oakland Coliseum, Kezar Stadium, Keystone Berkeley, Berkeley Square, Cow Palace, Berkeley Community Theater, Paramount Theater, The Long Branch, Crows Nest and more.

Beach Boys

Steely Dan

Dan Hicks and His Hot Licks

Slade

Led Zeppelin

Roy Harper

The Tubes

Lee Michaels

Yes

Poco

Focus

The Kinks

Mason Proffit

Jesse Collin Young

Santana

The J. Geils Band

Steve Miller Band

King Crimson

Blue

Dr. John the Night Tripper

Boz Skaggs

Humble Pie

San Antonio, Austin, etc., Texas, January 1974 through November 1975 – Alamo Dome/Convention Center, Marbach ?sp?) Saloon, Texas Theater, Laurie Auditorium, Armadillo World Headquarters, Memorial Stadium (University of Texas in Austin) and Municipal Auditorium IN San Antonio

Ten Years After

Lynyrd Skynyrd

Joe Walsh

Van Morrison

Johnny Winter

Jeff Beck

Gordon Lightfoot

Kiss

The Guess Who

Wet Willie

Point Blank

Triumph

Fog Hat

Montrose

Black Sabath

REO Speedwagon

Emerson, Lake and Palmer

Grand Funk

Rare Earth (twice)

Cactus

Trapeze

Blue Oyster Cult

Rod Stewart

Too Smooth

Bloodrock

Edgar Winter

Climax Blues Band

Leslie West

Foghat

Thee image

Fleetwood Mack

Rick Wakeman

ZZ Top

Ted Nugent

Rat Madness

Joe Cocker

Jerry Jeff Walker

Jay Boy Adams

Todd Rundgren

Ramiro Ceverra

Loggins & Messina

Cate Brothers

Gentle Giant

Steve Miller Band

Boz Scaggs

The Charlie Daniel’s Band

The Marshall Tucker Band

Peter Frampton

Elvin Bishop

Leon Russell

Brownsville Station

Queen

Bad Company

T-Rex

ADDENDUM

An interesting but related aside. RIght now I cannot recall which date it was (either 1983 or 1984) but the Celtics were in the NBA Playoffs against the Milwaukee Bucks and the team was staying at the same hotel (adjacent to the arena where they played) where I was attending an Occupational Health meeting as part of my job as Patient Services Manager for the Christie Clinic in Champaign, Illinois. I was either 30 or 31 at the time and had never been involved in any kind of sports other than the outdoor activities of hunting and fishing, which consumed me even back then.

Anyway, our Health meetings were over shortly after 4 PM, and I didn't know anyone else there at tthe time, so I was on my own to make dinner plans and socialize the rest of the night. So, I decided to hit the mezzanine bar overlooking the courtyard inside the hotel and introduced myself to others gathered barside.

Now I was a loner, not so much by choice but by personality it seems. No, I'm not a bad person, I'm just someone back then who had a difficult time making small talk with others (you wouldn't believe that nowadays). And while there many other business men and women there in their suits and dresses, I ended up getting to know the other odd-man out there who just happened to be a member of the Rock Group Molly Hatchet out of Florida. And as luck would have it, he too loved to hunt and fish as much I did and still try to.

We spent several hours sharing stories and had a great time but as it was dark outside and he had a concert to play at the MECCA and I hadn't ate, we paid our tabs and split.

Funny aside about that. As he pulled his wallet out to pay, an unsmoked joint fell onto the counter and he said, "Gosh, I wonder where that came from," with a twinkle in his eye and a chuckle.

So, while not a concert, it was related!

https://texasarchive.org/2013_02397

https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZg51pEAYOuJXNir0YByNajhnN9GgCWagzQ7S9m2mY_Epsb9uZoyod-aUZpdj-4RQQOIV1DVKexBXDs2sdqj0eLicbvFRGYeUfjemynOGDrVV_bKI7bbQJu-cPKSPhoCRo0dUXXK0EaYeHxtpbnJG6l0AiPG_aRMfXOFF3x_pLmXZbA-NF15aZuMIpDNw/s1469/Screenshot_20240620_110223_Google.jpg

2024-06-21T01:24:00.000-05:00

The Three D's, or, carry some PVC

By Bob Zettler

June 19, 2024

Summer is upon us today and it’s a heat wave for the foreseeable future…a really hot one they say. We just passed Memorial Day where our fallen members of the Armed Forces were honored and July 4^th is just around the corner.

And those of us who fish the waters here in Illinois and across the USA know a couple of things:

People drink more alcohol during these times, and
There are more idiots behind the wheel or on the tiller of boats out there no matter where you are.

It’s a game of survival out there. First off many fishermen leave before sunrise for their favorite destination and this time the odds increase that your trip could leave you injured, incapacitated, or worse, deceased from one of the “D’s”. What are these three “D’s” I speak of?

Well, I chose that expression many years ago during one of my many late night, early morning drives where I was headed out hunting somewhere. They are:

Drunks
Deer, and
DUMBASSES.

Drunks. Here it is sometimes as early as 3 AM, and even earlier, where I am headed to my destination in southern Illinois, Northern Illinois and places in between. And what happens in some communities at either 2 AM or 3 AM? The bars close, and, you guessed it, a bunch of Drunks hit the road just as you either could collide with one or take a more scenic route trying to avoid…

~~Deer~~. What more can be said as these denizen of the darkness love to graze on either side of the roadway during the night, or, play chicken by crossing said road just as you try to wiz by. Heck, the last two nights when I haven’t come through town on my way home until after 1 AM, there has been this rather large buck just grazing away about 15’ to 20’ off the edge of Route 4#, RIGHT INSIDE THE CITY LIMITS. Luckily he turned around and went back into the field as I slowly pulled up to get a picture but we all know how much damage can be done to a vehicle and it’s occupants going even just 40 MPH when one decides to cash it in.

And don’t forget their activity increase during the Rut and when the Does come into season. And if you’re puling a boat….I just can’t imagine all the damage that a deer could cause. I remember a story my Dad told me years ago about a fellow Army officer who was up in Wisconsin for their two weeks training that summer, and how his friend smacked a deer that flipped onto the hood and through his windshield where he ended up in his backseat still alive and started kicking the "___"out of him. WOW!

Dumbasses. They are EVERYWHERE! On the roadways, in the woods and fields, but especially on the water. Whether it’s a Jon Boat, fishing boat, pontoon, Seafood, speedboat, and all the rest that float and have propulsion, they are on the water or at the ramp – day in and day out. And not all of them are drinking alcohol!

(THANK GOD!)

Sometimes they speed through No Wake Zones. Or they simply run up and down the water in all types of watercraft, seemingly oblivious to their environment. Common Courtesy, and for the most part, Common Sense was left at home or never made it out the birth canal when they emerged into this world. There is no explaining them, and, are hard to identify…that is until they get near the water.

They speed past and right through while your trying to fish and even hunt. I have had people fish right through my decoys a number of times while I stand there out in the open with a loaded shotgun no less!. I was semi filled with glee one day last September during the early waterfowl season when this boat tried to fish right where I am hunting and they got stuck. It made me smile….

Again, there are all types of Dumbasses out there who don’t give a hoot about anyone else in their world – and that means you have to be cautious, ever vigilant and have cat-like reflexes. I personally have not been in a wreck in a boat, but who can say they have not experienced the terror of near misses, high rolling wakes, or the like?

So, to sum up my friends, in the immortal words of Phil Esterhouse, “ Let’s be careful out there” and not end up in a body bag.

POSTSCRIPT

Here is a new one, always keep your PVC at the forefront:

· Be Patient.
· Be Vigilant.
· Be Courteous.

More examples of what you might encounter on the water...

And oddities...

And on land

Even from the air!

It's a crazy world out there, we just have to Patient, Vigilant and....COURTEOUS!!

Never give up. Never...

2022-02-02T18:28:00.000-06:00

By Bob Zettler

April 17, 2006

Nearly 10 years ago, I lost my Yellow Lab and a Brittany I inherited when my Father died in 1990.

I had just finished duck hunting and my guest and I were watching the ducks drop into Carlyle Lake subimpoundments as I let the two run in the parking lot #1 to pee and the like before we headed north to pheasant hunt. A few vehicles came and went and then when I turned around - no dogs. I proceeded to ask all incoming hunters if they had seen them and drove all over for the next six hours and into the dark looking for them and enlisting the assistance of others, including the local CPO.

I left some clothes near where I parked so if they came back over night they would hopefully stay. Took the guest home and returned the next day and drove all over to no avail. This was 12/21 and when it turned dark again I had to return home. The next morning I was on the phone to the local radio stations and newspaper. I was put on the one radio show (an auction show) and then contacted all the Vets in the area and psotmaster. Came back a few days later and started to put out signs and notes in mailboxes. Kept my children from discovering it at Christmas before they went home to their mother's and then was back at it.

It was a very snowy period and the ole Brittany didn't like water so I was worried they had been stolen so I started putting out the story they were on medications and were chipped (micro). I need to mention I lived nearly 90 miles from where they disappeared BUT ALL OF THE PEOPLE in that area were very helpful, considerate and supportive. Had a few false leads but 10 days later on 12/29 I got the ole Brittany back! He was nearly 11 miles away from where he had started, so I started placing new notices in mailboxes that night in a blizzard for several miles in each direction from where he was found. The next night I got another call and JJ had been found! He had been just a few houses away and I had actually driven past him in the blizzard when I placed a notice in the mailbox of the house he was hiding out under.

Both had lost some weight but other than that we were all happy to have found each other. I did not give up for those 10 days and did all that I could and enlisted all the resources available - including the Internet. There are forums out there and I had people from all over offering counsel, advice, support and even time to look - all for a stranger in Illinois.

JJ is still with us but Barney died a few years ago at the age of 17 - pretty old for a Brittany. I just know that JJ still remembers I didn't give up and we were VERY lucky to get our family back together.

What I did a lot of besides placing 100's of notices in mailboxes, in businesses, at stores, and the like was driving around and TALKING TO EVERYONE I SAW. Many of these people would look and report to me if they saw anything. I even had one women of 78 follow a pair of dogs in a blizzard one day thinking they were the ones only to discover the neighbors had new pets. Good people down there and I will never know if they ran off or were taken. I just could not imagine them traveling all the distance they would have had to. They would have had to cross several bridges, interstate and waterways in that 11+ miles...

Good luck to those whose canine family members go missing and do not give up!

And the winner is…

2022-01-13T11:48:00.003-06:00

I am going to post a number of older stories so beware! And the winner is…

By Bob Zettler

December 7, 2008

It was suppose to be deer second season for me but as that ole dark cloud cast a shadow over what I had hoped for and didn’t materialize, I decided to go duck hunting – and with the cold weather, I once again had to turn to friends for a spot to hunt instead of hitting the public places I could hoof it to like when I was younger.

The first morning of the four days was set for western Illinois along the Mississippi and I didn’t have to arrive until after 7 AM as my host didn’t get off work until then. I stopped for food to bring for the crew and met him at the ramp right on schedule and was greeted by a totally iced waterway. It was almost 2 inches thick but the first load of hunters had already made it out so we headed to the blind.

I wish I could have brought a movie camera along to capture the spray of ice, chunks and frozen water particles thrown up behind Dan as we made our way to the blind since it was spectacular. That rooster tail was 20 to 30 feet up into the air and the chunks would just fall back onto the ice and slide away as we cut our path.

Now Dan has one heck of a boat and the 35 HP mud-motor was worth its weight in gold that morning as he was able to circle around and through the decoys to create a 50-yard wide hole in front of the blind. Combine that with the Mallard Machine placed 15-yards in front and we had open water that would hopefully entice every duck and goose down for a meeting with their maker!

This is a nine-hole blind that blends in well with the surroundings and provides excellent protection for its occupants what with a stove/heater and stools. No wind issues inside this one and all we needed were the ducks to do their thing.

Wasn’t too long before a lone Gadwall winged nearby and over the right end of the blind whereby Dan’s guests rose up and pummeled it with steel. While no one called the shot and the bird did not immediately fall, it was mortally wounded and fell on the ice behind us where Dan went out later to retrieve by boat.

With the ice continuing to form around the decoys, Dan used the boat after retrieving the Gadwall to open it all up again to where there was clear and open water with no icy slush or chunks floating around so it looked as if the ducks had been keeping it open naturally.

We then had three Mallards drop in and light right in the decoys whereupon we shot and all three stayed with the farthest falling not more than 15 to 20 yards out and the closest within 8 yards.

But with the cold temperatures and very few ducks flying, we decided to call it early and began to pick up decoys to avoid them being frozen in the ice as the end of the season approached. And while his guests left for their own reasons, Dan and I took out all but maybe 18 and made it back to the ramp before Noon so he could get some sleep and I could make it home to return the next day to try it again – did I mention it was 14 degrees when we arrived and it only made it to 24 by the time we left?

The next morning I get up and am out the door before 5 AM and the roads are clear but it is a tad cooler than the day before as it was now 9 degrees! I arrived early and even had a selection of sausage biscuits for everyone (if the other three showed up) and when we looked at the ice and couldn’t get the boat started; we decided to call it a day before it started. It was a long drive back home…

For the next day, I all of a sudden had invites for three very different areas of the state but decided to head to Rend Lake as I was trying to set up something for my friends down there and we needed to chat. The forecast had snow on the agenda so I decided to leave very early and headed out the door around 1:30 AM for the 150 mile trip…just in case.

I didn’t see the first flurries until the Litchfield area and made it safely to our favorite Huck’s in Mt. Vernon on time but not before picking up some sausage biscuits for everyone; as besides Nick, there would be his 7-year old son Loa, John and his father, which made for three generations of hunters for that Saturday morning hunt on a public lake.

As we left Huck’s, the snow arrived in force and it began to get nasty. Oh yeah, that’s what I like! Arrived at the boat ramp and we were the only ones there and the time was 4:45 AM. It seems John overslept but he and his Dad arrived before 5 AM and we headed out in Nick’s War Eagle.

Wow, was that snow and wind blowing and with all of us hugging the floor of the duck boat, I could see Nick every now and then when he turned on his spotlight with waves of icy spray hitting him and coating his body turning it into a popsicle - a 6’ 4” camo clad popsicle! The temperature was 26 degrees with winds of 10 to 18 MPH out of the southwest…you all figure out the wind chill!

Unfortunately, his first spot was already taken as well as his second for it seems the word had gotten out on how well he and John had been doing, so we settled for the second runner-up and began to set decoys in the snowy, icy predawn darkness.

It was quite the spread what with Mallards, Goldeneyes, Ring Necks, Canvasbacks, Blue Bills, Canada geese and one lone Black Duck laid out with Nick’s precision. He even fine tuned it a couple of times moving one here, another back over there, and picking a couple up to place off to the side but it looked great to us when we were done a full hour before shooting time. We unloaded the gear and Nick took and parked the boat around the corner while we settled in along the rocks and amongst the cover where we were not more than a couple of feet from the water and no more than a couple of yards between us with Jon at one end and Nick at the other.

The snow began to let up as shooting time crept closer and we got more comfortable among the rocks and brush. Say what you will but this crew had a plan. And when their first couple of spots was taken, they had a number of backups. Then it wasn’t simply a case of throwing out decoys, as Nick placed and grouped them according to what he felt would work for the conditions, the location, the species he had been seeing and a whole litany of requisites. And as shooting time arrived, we could hear the hunters from where Nick and Jon had hunted the day before shoot and just hoped we would still get a chance…

It wasn’t too long, maybe a few minutes, before the Mergansers began to sweep past our decoys on their way to God only knows. And as they are fair game, shots were taken and while many did not find their target which might have been going Mach 1, a couple did and retrieves were made by boat and by dog as Nick had brought his Yellow Lab.

And as the snow was diminishing and the light increasing, we began to spot other, more desirable waterfowl within range of Nick and John’s calls – John’s Dad and I reframed from spoiling their efforts and didn’t call. A VERY wise choice… Nick and John work well together as a team, whether they are calling birds, setting decoys, flagging or other type of waterfowling activities. They have been hunting together for some time and that includes most every day during the waterfowl season in the Southern Zone and even some in the Central Zone.

I thoroughly enjoy hunting with them even though I tend to get more than my fair share of abuse as it is in good fun and not mean-spirited. Even when I screw up I don’t get a blast of vitriol but usually an educational effort by Nick and I truly appreciate that part as it helps even this old coot learn even though I tend to relapse more times than I care to count…

Now I love the harsh weather to hunt waterfowl in as I fell it keeps them moving and prone to making mistakes – the waterfowl that is! Now in my nearly 30 years of hunting them, I have yet to kill a Drake Canvasback and this year that option would not be available to me as the season was closed by the FWS. And for the first time I can recall, we had Can’s not only swing close by but lite in the decoys! And I do not mean one or two but sometimes a half-dozen or more and most were Drakes!!! Talk about restraint…

Now this day felt like one of those special days from the get-go. The weather was prime old-fashioned waterfowling conditions, we were hunting on a public lake and had set ourselves up along a point that was covered with big rocks where we hunkered down amongst them trying not to break a leg of the icy formations or slip into the frigid waters, the company was excellent and we were only taking high-percentage shots as we usually did. The dog was doing his job well but Nick would have to occasionally go to the boat and chase down cripples which were mostly Divers.

Now why is that I thought as I know that these guys can shoot and seldom have had a miss when we hunted Mallards? It turns out the physiology of the Goldeneyes (especially) and Blue Bills are a little different than most Puddle ducks and you can tell that the first time you pick one up. They seem pretty heavy for their size compared to their Mallard cousins and when you open them up you usually find a more generous layer of fat that seems to provide a better “armor” for their vital organs. Unless we hit one and broke a wing it wasn’t unusual to have them get pummeled repeatedly as they screamed into and out of the decoys spread only to fall dead anywhere from 40 to a 100 yards out. And I mean stone dead. Even if we crippled one, unless one of their feet were broken too, they would dive only to pop up somewhere else and that could mean 50 or more yards away! This added an element of risk and surprise that enticed me to hope for another chance at one as soon as that one was either brought to bag or lost to the waves before either the dog or Nick in his boat could get to it before it disappeared…

There were two father-son teams this day as Nick had brought his seven year old son Loa and John brought his Dad who was close to my age. I had brought McDonald’s sausage biscuits for everyone and they hit the spot as I washed mine down with hot chocolate I had made before I left home.

I get a kick out of Loa as he seldom complains and when he does it isn’t about being cold, wanting to go home or the like but about not being to shoot a duck like the rest of us. And when he had finished his biscuit and found I had candy, well it was game on as he ate his way through a bag before we left. It was like adding jet fuel to a go-kart as this kid does not stop and is always doing something and he even mouth calls geese! He has his own duck call and has learned to BRRRRTTTT on it for those Divers we love too.

Nick should be one proud papa as he has been raising his son well and is one of the most patient fathers I have ever met – hands down. Anyway, I digress as usual.

As the shots were being called on ducks as they were in our faces, whether it be Mallards, Goldeneyes, Blue Bills or even a Gadwall, there were plenty of opportunities for all of us to learn or practice our water-shot techniques to prevent losses or a trip to the boat for the chase as we were determined to bring our ducks to bag and limit our losses.

And as John was on an end where many fell crippled (from all our efforts) it came down to him to try and dispatch more than his share thus placing him in an ammo dilemma where we had to augment his supply and me with some ammo of my own to tease him about not coming prepared…

Now there came a volley where a number of Goldeneyes were dropped and as Nick went out in the boat he discovered one Hen was banded! Now this was right after he and John had talked about how they had taken a banded Hen Goldeneye the week before and how this freak occurrence would most likely not be repeated in our lifetimes.

Ain’t that something as this was the fifth or sixth band their group had harvested since the Southern Zone season opened and the second Goldeneye (both Hens) but in both cases no one could tell who shot what!

Now this day wasn’t without a little humor and a drama. First there was this Benny Hill type watercraft that must have had just a 7.5 HP motor on it that cruised by and over to the spillway and then back again. And since it was so slow, it took forever fighting its way through the water several hundred yards outside our decoys and provided us with a good laugh.

However, a little later we had another boat cut right outside the decoy edge at less than a 100 yards just as a flock came into and out of the decoys where shots were fired BUT NOT ANYWHERE NEAR that boat. Well these guys slam on the anchor and roar back cussing at us for shooting at them as they had a young man in with them.

It was pointed out that no one had shot at them or near them, and, by the way, why had they cut the outside edge of our spread when they had plenty of water to go around. They provided an unusual answer and more words were thrown back and now forth.

And as I came around the corner, the boat finally motored off to the ramp where I assumed they expected we had put in the water from but hadn’t as this spot was not our original destination. Sure hope no one had their tires slashed in the parking lot that day because it wasn’t out vehicle…..

We went ahead and stuck it out to till 1 PM but most of the action was over by 10 AM where very few Mallards presented themselves but we had a grand day! And did you know there is a Universal Law that pick-up goes so quickly and better when you are successful? It really does…

And when we got back to the boat ramp, we were all entered into a drawing for the band with a coin toss. But since we had wind and some of us couldn’t catch their coin, it had to go twice. And the winner was…John’s Dad!

This had been his first hunt of the season and what I felt was a great decision was that he gave his son the band and the dad gets the FWS certificate when it comes. Makes for a new great memory. And since they had used the Internet to turn in the band number, they discovered it had been banded in Minnesota.

Ain’t life great some days!

Blind Mallard! Blind Mallard!

2021-12-28T03:17:00.002-06:00

Blind Mallard!

By Bob Zettler
December 28, 2010

"Blind Mallard! Blind Mallard!"

Now how in the Heck does he know it's blind I thought to myself as Nick yelled it into my ear from over my cell but I am getting ahead of myself. You see I was hunting out of a layout boat and it had been a real doozy of a day. Even on the best of days my faculties aren't all that great but the last 12 hours had been a real doozy let me tell you...

First off, I hadn't gotten any sleep the night before. Between my restless legs and palpitating heart I just could not get to sleep even with all the (legal) drugs I had pumped into me. I had hit the hay before 10 PM as I had to leave by 2 AM but the legs and heart kept me awake tossing and turning. So at 2 AM I hit the road and before I hit the city limits was pulled over for speeding! However, he took one look at me already dressed for hunting ducks and saw how disheveled my appearance was and provided me with a waring ticket and cautioned me that there had already been one rollover that night due to icy roads.

That interlude put me 10 minutes behind but it could have put a severe dent in the pocket too so there was an upside. As I got near Nick's meeting spot I called to let him know I was running behind but would be there shortly ? only 5 minutes late. Well he had another friend coming and this would be his first time waterfowling so hopefully we could teach him something...

We headed out in one vehicle and arrived at the ramp where there were already three or more there but Nick put in quickly. However I had to pull him out as the ice had been so thick that the motor wouldn't drop. That was quickly remedied and we got in the boat from the edge of the ramp. Usually this wasn't an issue but for some reason as I slid myself over the edge I slipped and crushed my left nut but toughed it out as we sped across the water. Since I was holding my own and hadn't thought about how cold it was ? just the ache in my nethers? I failed to pull my hood up and when I did I realized I didn't know where my face mask was. Talk about frostbite! But again, I toughed it out...

Well the first spot was taken (thanks guys for not shining a light as we motored all the way there) and it was more frostbite as we went to where he had been the day before. Using layouts is a hoot as you put out your decoys and then place the layouts and this time (thankfully) we were going to be hunting out of them in fairly shallow water. Nick went over the side to start the unloading process and as I never want to be someone who doesn't at least try to assist, decided to go over the side and help.

Remembering my left one I tried to keep it safe as I went over I got my foot caught and over the side I went and into the water. Did I mention how cold it was? Well, I was only wet from my above my navel and down both legs and into my waders but I was a big guy and would tough it out...

We got ourselves into the layouts and began our wait. And as I had brought a thermos of HOT chocolate I knew that I would be okay even as my waders and pants began to freeze and stiffen. Even with the winds at our backs I was getting a little chilly and just couldn't get comfortable. Plus, I kept trying to doze off due to lack of sleep. Even with the fear of hypothermia I knew I would be okay as I was a tough guy...

Finally, around 8 AM when we hadn't fired a shot I decided to take a walk (as we were near enough to the shore) just so I wouldn't get the shakes. An hour later and still no shots I returned to the layouts whereupon they had decided to call it a day. A little disappointed that no one had even fired a shot, I was okay with that as I knew that what had happened to me over the previous 11 hours would soon have its impact so they went to get the boat while I rested in the one layout.

Now they had quite a hike and after they were out of sight I decided to take a leak as I had been wanting to go since 7 AM! As I was writing my name in the snow (short hose, long backed up stream) I thought I heard someone yell but what did I know as I was getting a little punchy and that is when I heard a phone ring. Not believing it was mine as I thought I had either left it in the Jeep or had ruined it from my dunking, I was pleasantly surprised to discover it was in a dry pocket of mine!

As I answered it I heard Nick scream, "BLIND Mallard! There is a BLIND Mallard in the decoys!!!"

I kind of chuckled as how did he know there was a duck in the decoys and while I know he is good but how could he tell it was a BLIND duck? Well, I looked around and sure enough there was a duck on the outside edge of the decoys but here I was with my you-know-what in my hands making yellow snow! I quickly finished (boy does that hurt when you aren't done) and put down the cell which was on speaker and picked up my shotgun. But what the Heck was this duck? It looked like no other I had ever seen and it must be blind to have flown over me and land 30 yards away as I was peeing!

Well, whatever species it was it was definitely a duck, albeit maybe someone's farm duck and I took the first shot but missed. As it flew off I threw a second and finally third where I dumped it. Hallelujah, we were not blanked! A few minutes later as Nick motored over I heard the rest of the story. As they had approached the boat this duck had been sitting under the boat out of the weather and had flown off to land right next to me where I was standing with my pecker in my hands literally! And while I had thought Nick was yelling BLIND Mallard he was actually yelling BLOND Mallard!

Now I had never heard of a BLOND Mallard and this was only the second one Nick had even seen. And here, the one guy who went through all sorts of Hell the previous 12 hours and had shown the first-timer what not to do, was the one who scored a true trophy!! My sincere thank you to Nick and to the waterfowl Gods who put me through all the adversities but had bestowed upon me this unique bird which currently resides in my freezer until I find a taxidermist to do it for me. By the way, does anyone wear a cup while they waterfowl hunt...

2017-08-14T12:43:00.003-05:00

They call him, Mister Sweetness!

By Bob Zettler

August 14, 2017

Some call me obsessed. Some call me crazy. And some stupid. Whatever the case, I love to go fishing and hunting. And over the years I have been blessed to have come into contact with so many good and great people who hunt and/or fish. And while ALL of these individuals have been kind to me over the years, and years, and....years, when it comes to all-around Walter Payton(ish), I think of Brian Cleland.

We first met via Crappie.com maybe 8-10 (??) years ago when he learned he was also going to be fishing at Lake Shelbyville for Crappie when a coworker and me were headed over one day and we exchanged contact information to share how we were doing or if we ran into trouble. Now my coworker and I were having a difficult time finding Crappie and around 1030 AM Brian texted me to ask how we were doing and I replied, “not so good.” It turned out Brian was already done and he asked where we were as he was down at the south end of the lake, while we were up north of the Findlay Marina. Now he had put in down there but a few minutes later he motored up and officially introduced himself.

After some initial banter he offered to put us on fish before he left and we accepted! This is where it gets interesting. You see he had been fishing way down by Coon Cove and when we arrived he threw out his own marker buoys and told us exactly where to drop our lines. Within minutes we were boating Crappie, GOOD Crappie! Unfortunately, he had to leave soon but told me to hold onto the buoys and he would get them another time. Now how often does a stranger do something like this for some yahoo who he only knows from an Internet forum!

Well the years have passed and he and I fish every now and then out of his boat where I ALWAYS have a great time but it had been awhile until last Thursday. He had read of how I had been having a difficult time catching Crappie the last month and he took pity on me and offered to take me out after work the next week. We tentatively agreed on the next Thursday as I was headed to St. Louis for the morning but could be back for a late afternoon excursion. On that day while I was wrapping up my business, he texted me throughout the day about whether he could get out of work and take me for our previously arranged 4 PM start. No need to fear, he moved the start time forward to 445 PM and he literally pulled in right behind me as I arrived at Bo Woods,

A quick turnaround and we are on the water headed to our first spot by 5 PM. And it was a doozy and one I probably would have a difficult time finding or holding on due to its location way out in the lake – my boat hates the wind. He decides for us to use just one pole each and its on like Donkey Kong!!! Almost every cast of mine brought up the elusive “Over” Crappie that I had been searching for the past several months while Brian was, as he said, “getting the small ones out of my way.”

We soon had nearly a dozen keepers in the live-well and moved on to the next spot where we added several more. Now we were racing darkness so time was of the essence, so we only spent a short time at each spot, especially since we had so little time left. And, much to my pleasure, he was also trying to show me where to look and find brush-piles that I normally have the darnedest time finding even with a GPS and even a leftover marker buoy floating on it. Heck-fire, he said I could mark the spots on my GPS to boot! What a guy...

Anyway, to wrap this up without telling you all the six spots he introduced me to, suffice to say that in 150 minutes from the time we entered the water till we were back in the parking lot, he and I put 23 keepers (ALL our OVERS and the rest UNDERS) in the live-well. In addition, as I was having so much fun, I only marked 2.5 of the spots but I am totally content with that since that is but an infinitesimal portion of the spots he has on Lake Shelbyville alone and each pone produced more for us in a short time than my spots had in an all day outing.

So, Brain Cleland (aka Mister Sweetness), my continued admiration for your fishing prowess and appreciation for how you have helped me achieve what I have as I fish for Crappie! Thank you so very much.

2016-06-11T00:03:00.002-05:00

“Hey Billy, do you like Gladiator movies?”

June 6, 2016

By Bob Zettler

I love to hunt and fish. No, let’s face it, hunting and fishing IS my life to a large extent nowadays as I gave up on finding the right woman years ago. So nowadays there are my children, who I love and am proud of, and then there is hunting and fishing. And since it is nearly the summer solstice, fishing is it till September 1 where I begin to go crazy over hunting Early Canada geese and an afternoon shoot for dove. But until then, it’s fishing. Period.

As such, I go most every weekend and every opportunity that presents itself, whether it is as the guest or host. And there is a big difference between the two for when I am the guest, I arrive before they ask me to meet and quit when they say quit. BUT, and that is a BIG BUT, when I am the host I go as long as I can physically stay awake most times and that will tax most anyone else in the world for they have family commitments, jobs and the need for sleep…

I have been ridiculed for my 19, 20, 21 hour trips over to Lake Shelbyville where I will fish from a late afternoon or early evening, into the night hours and then go after those Crappie until either I catch my limit or just cannot see the water. I tell people who join me that they can come and go as they choose for they do not have to “stay the course” and beat themselves up on one of my expeditions. And, I have had a number of people join me where they come late or leave early and this has worked out for it suits us both. And then there was Craig…

I met Craig years ago when he joined Holden and I on what was probably one of the best pheasant hunts I will ever be on. It was wild birds and it was maybe one of his first times out and we bumped into Craig and a friend as we walked the farms of east central Illinois. “WE” scored a full 10 bird limit that day and I simply could not miss. I think the final bird of the day was one that flushed as we were headed back to the vehicles and on my third shot I crushed him at an unbelievable distance whereupon Chunk, my Yellow Lab retrieved him with his Father, JJ, and his brother, Taz in tow. And to top the day off, as we recuperated and relived the hunt from the tailgates of trucks, we witnessed the Northern Lights in the sky – a first for several. It was a magical day and one for the ages but I digress, as usual…

Fast forward to this weekend where Craig had just gotten out of the Army and wanted to go with me over to Lake Shelbyville so I told him he could join me for whatever time he wanted and he wanted it ALL. So we made plans to meet up around 10 PM on Saturday and we would be responsible for our own food and beverages and I would get minnows and catfish bait and he would try for some bluegill and shad. I tried to sleep but a pesky cold and multiple phone calls and texts over the afternoon interrupted my slumber. We met at Leprechaun Landing where I keep my boat at 10 PM and readied ourselves and the watercraft before getting on the water well before 11 PM.

With searchlights ablaze, GPS(s) leading the way, we motored up the lake from Wolf Creek to near Point 6, maybe 4 or so miles in total darkness, sans a few stars. I told him to never tell my kids I do this for they would freak out. I mean, boating in total darkness after a rain using only searchlights and my GPS’s at nearly 30 MPH – they would either commit me or take away my keys! Anyway, we made it there unscathed and discovered others were already there so we tried the island nearby and discovered that the wind the weatherman had said would be light was…shall we say, not, which made it near impossible to keep the jugs off the shoreline. Decided finally to head into a nearby cove and set my 25 floaters with cut shad and chicken livers before boating over to the local marina area where it was lighted and held some fish.

We fished that area until 4 AM and caught a good number of Crappie, with just a couple of keepers, and returned to our catch in the cove. Started pulling my jugs and discovered several had their bait removed; none had fish with several up near the banks. One that was right up against the back we got a surprise, a Soft-Shelled turtle – a BIG one. He had tried to free himself by going under a stump and we could simply not budge him or the stump so we decided to get back to him. Then we discovered another one held a snapping turtle on it – WOW! Not knowing the legality, nor wanting to deal with it, he was cut free. Finally we saw one jug moving like the barrel in Jaws and after a brief chase were able to boat the 8 pound Catfish. Sweet. However, none of the other jugs held fish and several were missing bait so we decided to free the other turtle as well. Hopefully we made the right decisions…

As it was now breaking daylight, we went after Crappie with a vengeance and I put us on one of my spots where we began to catch them! We caught a lot but very few keepers with most being in the 8-9” range but a couple of Overs did make their way onto our hooks. After a couple of hours we decided to head over to the Coalshaft Bridge area but discovered the winds we had been fighting all night were even worse there and with no other boats trying their luck there I reached out to Brian for help.

Brian Cleland is quite possibly one of the nicest guys you will ever meet and has helped me since before we even met in person. Brian quickly replied and sent me tips on where to look and amazingly, I found them! And, we were on Crappie again – a lot of Crappie – but where I could do no wrong at our first spot and had added several fish to our catch, nothing was going right here. With snags, broken lines, and all, I was spending most of my time at getting untangled, unsnagged or replacing lost gear. But Craig came up with the idea that if we had an anchor then maybe it would be easier. DUH! I have two anchors! So we get one out, motor past the spot and I drop anchor letting the line glide through my hands and into the depths. Did I say glide? I meant RIP through my hands as it had a hook stuck in the rope and as I wasn’t wearing Kevlar, well let me say the experience wasn’t one I wanted repeated!

Yet, after the blood was washed off the bow, I was back on the fish and…you guessed it, getting tangled, losing gear and getting wrapped up in ropes, lines and the like but I still managed a Crappie or three. After a couple hours and nearing Noon, I asked him what he wanted to do, expecting him to say how good a tall, cold Coors would be right about then but he surprised me by saying let’s try the other spot! Que sera, sera. Can’t this boy get enough!

Onto that spot and another anchor drop and you guessed it, another shredded hand palm, as I had taken out the one hook, I found another! And Jeez Louise, we…I mean Craig, began catching Overs all the while I am trying to stem the blood loss and get myself untangled and the like. By Noon, the winds were tougher and now the pleasure boaters were out and we had a good number of fish but the minnows were down to a couple of dead ones – I had been using the dead ones AND still catching Crappie – so I asked Craig what was his pleasure and he shocked me. I thought he would say it had been a good time and let’s head for the Hills for a cold Coors. Instead, he said we could stop by the Marina, buy some more minnows and try the spot we had started off at before heading back to the ramp. Now, as most who know me, that is usually what I would say but this time it was another and I was the vict…I mean, the one ready to be done. Somewhere I was quite sure pigs were learning to fly…

Onto the Marina where we pick up another batch of minnows, as we had already gone through more than 10 dozen, and back at the first brushpile where roles are reversed again and I am catching fish while Craig is trying to get untangled. Stayed at it for awhile and finally decided to hit those other spots we had last been at before calling it a day. While we found the one spot, I really had problems finding the other and then the winds were truly a pain in the posterior. Yet, we managed a couple more keepers and then ran out of the second batch of minnow! I mean we went through maybe 200+ minnows and were just shy of a two man limit of Crappie but the killer was I had been ready to call it a day four hours earlier!!!

With the jigs losing their effectiveness and not even a dead minnow in the bucket (I had resorted to using the dried ones that had fallen on the boat’s deck several times already), Craig finally said we could call it and it was well after 5 PM the day after we had begun our expedition. Wow. Just Wow!

The boat ride was wet as there were whitecaps and that pesky wind but we made good time all weighed down with gear, coolers and now fish. Let Craig off and he backed my van and trailer down and we were soon off to our home sweet home – around 6:30 PM! What made my day was when Craig said that not only had he had a great time but it was also the most fish he had ever caught – in his life! Tears of pride and accomplishment swelled in my heart…

Yet, nearly 21 hours on the boat was enough and while I had been feeling great on the boat, it truly hit me once I walked on shore. With another 90 minutes to home for me, I set off and made it to my driveway shortly after 8 PM whereupon it took me a full five minutes to get myself out of the van and in the front door, leaving a trail of clothes in my wake and the fish on ice as I collapsed into my bed.

It had been a great time but I felt like I had been vanquished for I had never been so tired IMHO. And when that chicken I ate on the way home decided to make its emergency exit from my bowels at midnight and I wasn’t sure I could sit upright on the throne, I realized Craig was right that eating chicken on an empty stomach after it having sat out all afternoon wasn’t such a good idea. So while it might have appeared like a tie and that this old man outlasted the young Army Gladiator, I am now just not so sure about that…

Anyway, thank you to Brian, Shawn and all the rest who assisted me on our expedition and welcome home for Craig. God Bless everyone (but not a couple of ex-wives)!

2016-04-13T18:57:00.000-05:00

Cursed or Blessed?

By Bob Zettler

April 11, 2016

I am blessed sometimes and today was an unexpected one…

One of my nicknames is “Dark Cloud” due to all the “stuff” that either happens to me or around me. I mean last week it a broken drainage (read that sewage) pipe underneath the crawlspace, this past weekend was finding out that the railroad is creating a new crossing right through where I store a lot of “stuff” and then there was this morning, the opening day of the 2016 Illinois Wild Turkey (First) Season for the northern zone.

My usual opener is mostly a scouting mission whereupon I try to capitalize on past experience(s) and current conditions. Now the last couple of years had been a little tough as it seemed a big Bobcat had moved in and even the deer numbers were down. Again, I am still blessed as the landowner has let me hunt his property for maybe 10 years or so and he has a pretty good population of Wild Turkeys on or adjacent to the farm with enough terrain to wear out even the hunter who is in shape. And by shape, I do not mean round as I am but someone who can go up and down the ravines and the like without having a heart attack or calling for a med-evac!

Now I had spent most of the weekend getting ready by cleaning my shotguns and returning the primary three to a 3-shot capacity down from their extended magazines for the Conservation Order Season for Snow geese. Then there was getting the right clothes and gear together and all the sundry odds & ends like calls, video cameras, shells, and, of course, my permit. This was in addition to washing clothes, cleaning house, etc. And while I had a great time with my daughter and her husband of two weeks for an excellent leg-of-lamb dinner, it took a five hour chunk of time out of all the aforementioned!

Interesting aside on my hunting clothes. I wear leafy camo jackets over everything that I layer on as the weather can change in a flash here in Illinois. It can start out with snow in the morning and be in the 60's by Noon. But what got my attention this time was I all of a sudden started getting what I call “clench-throat” where the pollen(s) and the like come the third week of Turkey Season will be so thick that all of a sudden I will start to choke – which is not conducive to chasing turkeys or one's health. And that is when I recalled I hadn't washed them since last season and hat the artifacts were still potent a year later, kind of like how Poison Ivy/Oak can remain potent on our clothes for months – I discovered this years ago when I got a bad rash from them in early December.

Anyway, I digress but I had to establish the background as it seems that no matter how long you have to prepare for it, it ALWAYS comes down to the last minute crisis that keeps me up late the night before and last night was no exception. I couldn’t find my permit, nor could I find any of my dozen shotgun carry slings or my….well, I actually did find the permit and just gave up on the rest as it was near 10 PM and I had to get up by 3:45 AM in order to get to the farm well before legal shooting time. Amazingly, I got to sleep right away and that is unusual as I suffer from severe to moderate RLS (Restless Leg Syndrome) and Insomnia. But even though I fell asleep by 10:30 PM, I still had to get up twice to perform “old man” obligations in the bathroom. Que sera. Que sera.

There was a big part of me that simply did not want to get out of bed this morning but somehow I managed to and was out the door about 4:10 AM after making several trips loading up the van with my two shotguns, boots, 18-gallon container of hunting “stuff” and the like. Fortunately, I had a spare slip-on sling in the van so I would make do with that for the opener. Then it was westward until I remembered my cell phone was still at home – got to make sure I can call 911# when I need to – and made it to the farm around 5:25 AM which provided me with plenty of time to get my gear on and head to the general area I always start with, for historically it holds birds. You see, in my thirty years of chasing Turkeys, I can count on one hand the number of times I have roosted birds and this was no exception and that is why I wanted to allow enough time for me to haul my carcass across the open field and into the woods BEFORE the birds started to sound off.

Now I have a bum right knee and my back is always killing me – some say it’s the extra 100 pounds I carry but what do they know – and I was halfway to the edge of the woods when the first bird sounded off, then the second, third and so forth! Life is good some mornings but it sounded like I might have company as it sounded like another hunter on the edge of the farm hooting his owl call every 20 seconds! C'mon guy, you heard where they are sounding off, there is no need to blow them out of there on opening day! Unfortunately, the woods are already greened up thicker than snot in places and the birds were sounding off several hundred yards deeper than normal, so I had to forge my way through the brush to get as close as I felt comfortable to the four or more sounding off maybe 100 yards or less away to my right. Sure I could hear one way back from where I had parked but he would never travel that distance and I had these right where I wanted them, or so I thought...

I decided on an semi-open area that looked good and one I had hunted in several times as I could hear Hens on both sides of me – and close! After I had sat down, I started to wonder if I hadn’t set up above the first hunter I had ever heard on the adjacent property as there had been a pop-up blind there the last several years and this guy, or guys, would not shut up! I mean it was non-stop yelps, kelps, clucks and the like just 40 or so yards away to my left and slightly down into the primary ravine running the length of the farm edge. But, hey, with him calling and I am already seeing Hens walk near me within 20 to 45 yards, those four or five Tom’s just might beat feet to me and make this one of the first openers in a long time where I scored. Or would it?

Interesting, those four or more Tom’s had gone quiet early but not till after it sounded like they were actually moving away from me, while the one that had been a quarter mile away to my left sounded like he was getting closer. And those two hunters, they had gone quiet. I was in a pickle as I could not move as I had deer and turkey all around me and I sure didn’t want to get shot by those hunters down below me. So I waited…

Then, it got more interesting as the two hunters had been quiet for a long time now BUT that Tom from afar was now pretty darnn close; actually between those “hunters” and me now. Then I decided that maybe those hunters were actually Hen’s after I saw that Tom appear with his deep red head and neck just 35 yards away. But he had so much downed tree branches and the like between us that I had no what I would call a good shot. Sure, I had both video cameras rolling and hopefully they captured him, and I almost took the shot when just his head and most of his neck was exposed in a very, very small opening but it was for only for a second or two and it wasn’t a high percentage shot IMHO. And as he was responding to my calls (forget those real Hens), I should be able to get him into the open as he traveled from my left to right. Alas, he was fleet of foot and was chasing tail that he must have spotted from his vantage point and they all headed deeper into the woods away from me and back towards the pond…damn, he was a really good bird too!

I waited awhile and then began the slow trek in the direction they had disappeared towards and kept spooking deer left and right. Mostly left but I kicked up maybe 7 or 8 of them as I went farther and farther from where I was parked with no turkey sounds to lead me either. I took a breather finally at the junction of two areas known for Turkey and actually catnapped for 20-30 minutes before deciding to head back towards the area I had started in and closer to my van as this would be ALL uphill. I had heard one gobble in response to my calling earlier and thought I had seen a red head pop up on the edge of the no-till corn field but had to give up when it never reappeared.

Got back to the edge of the field where they usually roost next too and close to where that one Tom I had seen had come from and decided to give it till 11:15 AM before heading to the Van. I immediately fell asleep (ala George Moon) and woke up 20 minutes later when the cool ground had transferred most of the heat out of my body. Gave a few calls and waited another 5 minutes before deciding to get up and go and that’s when I saw two or three birds making their way towards me. Probably Jakes and Hens but not sure but IMHO it held out hope that a Tom would be in tow and sure enough five minutes later there he was, the Big Boy from earlier. However, he was on the opposite ridge and the adjacent farm but he was coming and responding to my calls!

Even though he disappeared behind a big tree, I could hear him gobble and he was less than a 100 yards away and he sure was loud. Wait a minute, he was getting closer but didn’t that last gobble come from behind me on my side and MUCH louder? There he went again and I realized I had Tom’s on both sides of me with the ones on my side a lot closer! So I shifted around 180 degrees and in less than a minute I saw a head on the outside edge of the woods coming from the field – Hallelujah! Wait, there Is another head, and another and another? What the ____!

Then, Nirvana hit as one, no two, no three, no four Tom’s came strolling into the woods and at range of less than 25 yards. No time to measure beards or look at spurs as they ALL had nice ropes and the safety was off, trigger pulled and BBD (Big Bird Down)! I will have to look at the video to see how many there were as several vamoosed with my shot and I had filled my Illinois First Season Permit on opening day! And to make it all that much better, he was double-bearded with a 9.25” and a 4.75” beard with 1” spurs. You gotta love it when things work out even when all my planning in advance wasn’t quite complete – no shotgun strap, no single vision glasses (I wear bifocals), no leafy camo top (I had brought two pairs of pants), etc.

It will be a long wait till my Fourth and Fifth Season Tags what with the weather greening up the woods a few weeks earlier than normal and the birds ahead but I’m not complaining today – yet!

POSTSCRIPT I weighed him in a Rubbermaid container that weighed maybe a pound or so and combined they weighed 27.6 pounds! WOW, that's one of the heaviest birds I've ever killed.

2016-02-02T10:01:00.003-06:00

Coffee sucks!
By Bob Zettler
February 2, 2016

In 1974 I was stationed at Brooks AFB in San Antonio, Texas and assigned to the Research Section as a Physiological Training Specialist. Now the Viet Nam War had basically ended and several in my unit had previously served (we called them “Lifers”) but not seen any “action.” Our enlisted head was a reformed alcoholic who performed mechanical repair on the side for many of his superiors and was a quiet sort. Then there was Maloney, someone I came to despise by the time I left there. He was a drunk, loudmouth who openly cheated on his wife and I had no respect for him. And there was Bentley who had been a Canadian and self-professed former hippie but had chosen to be a “lifer” and was a pretty good egg. Then there was Schultz who was a really nice guy but wouldn’t take any guff from Maloney or others – he got shipped to Okinawa eventually for rocking the apple cart. My boss was Juan who had NEVER left Texas and while patient with upstarts like me – I was the first ever Airman/Airman First-Class that had ever been assigned to this unit as all others had been Sergeant or above – was in over his head organizationally.

Yes, I was rebellious after just living in the East Bay of California for a year and having fun. In retrospective, I thought I was too smart for my own good. And one thing that rubbed me raw was being ordered around…smart move to enter the Service. Hell, even my Dad cautioned me against going in but that’s another story as this one is about coffee.

Yes, coffee! That beverage many require in the mornings to even get moving and for our unit that was truly the case for everyone but me! I was a soda kind of guy and had been raised on that and Hot Tea – my mother was British – so coffee was alien to me even though my father drank it at home and when out to eat.

So here I am in a unit where coffee was so important that they had rigged up one of those 20-cup percolator coffee pots with a timer so there would be coffee ready as they straggled into the office each morning. Each of us was required to take turns to get the coffee pot ready for the next morning on the night before by filling it with water and placing the appropriate amount of coffee grounds in the strainer. The timer was a 24-hour timer so we were ready for the Tuesday-Friday “grind” and someone would be required to come in early every Monday to ensure the coffee was made for that day – no three day timers back then!

As I had a custom to rebelling against being told what to do (hmm, wonder where my children get that characteristic?), didn’t drink coffee and was already having issues with my “superiors”, a fiendish plot began to develop. I decide to sabotage the coffee! No, not with poison but with things like nuts and bolts, salt and other non-lethal crap around the research building I worked in. It tickled me that first time they tasted my brand of coffee as I expected to have to clean up the floors covered with sprayed coffee but it would be worth it!

I especially focused on Maloney as he took the first sip to try and clear his head from the previous night of debauchery cheating on his wife and getting drunk. And I waited, and waited and waited but no one sprayed their coffee on the floors or desks! I kept at it over the next four days and tried varying combinations of non-lethal “extras” but no one rejected my brews and in fact started to prefer my budding Barista talents to the others!

This just wasn’t fair! And, no, I did not urinate in the pot of coffee (at least I don’t recall doing so) and finally gave in to sample it myself a couple of times whereupon I spit it out till I learned the benefit of using tons of cream and sugar just like I did with my Tea. Curses, foiled again!

Now, its 40 years later and I mentioned this story to a man working temporarily in the office and he floors me! It turns out that a trick restaurants use to making bitter coffee more palatable is to add a pinch of salt as it seems to take the bite out of it. So here I have been carrying this burden and failure around with me for FORTY YEARS and finally discover that by dumb luck, fate or divine intervention I had discovered unbeknownst to me that my devious efforts to corrupt the delivery of coffee had been thwarted to the opposite end of the spectrum.

It sucks not being able to be a bad person even when you try to be!

2015-10-11T13:49:00.001-05:00

Life truly is a rollercoaster….

By Bob Zettler

October 11, 2015

“You know, when I was nineteen, Grandpa took me on a roller coaster.

Up, down, up, down. Oh, what a ride!

I always wanted to go again. You know, it was just so interesting to me that a ride could make me so frightened, so scared, so sick, so excited, and so thrilled all together!

Some didn't like it. They went on the merry-go-round. That just goes around. Nothing.

I like the roller coaster. You get more out of it.”

That was Grandma from the movie Parenthood providing a parable for Steve Martin and Mary Steenburgen when they were faced with multiple life-changing issues towards the end of the movie in what I still consider a great way to wrap-up the movie – and for a lot of us as well. I mean, after all, one of my nicknames is Dark Cloud due to all the weird and “interesting” things that happen to me and the people around me.

Yesterday was…shall we say, “Interesting.”

It started out with a road trip to go fishing at Lake Shelbyville, which in itself is something I had done almost every weekend this past May through September 1. However, this time my son was going with me and we hadn’t been out on the boat together in a long time. As usual we got a late start and arrive at Leprechaun Landing a little before 10 AM – had hoped to be there before 6 AM. Pulled the boat out of storage and began the process of cleaning it up from its last outing on September 1 for Early Season Goose hunting. Didn’t take long and it was time to introduce Jon to Virgil and Perry Jones who own and operate the store. Interesting is that I knew them both more than 30 years ago when I lived in Champaign and hunted on some land they farmed up by Mahomet. Small world.

So Jon gets his fishing license and I buy six-dozen minnows and a large bag of ice. Virgil’s count of six dozen minnows is always way off and this time was no exception. I will probably have seven dozen left after catching our 30 Crappie limit! So as we walk out the door, Virgil asks us as we get to the van if we want our minnows – seems we left them at the counter. Que sera.

Grab the minnow cooler and head down to Wolf Creek. “Boy, a lot of trailers in the parking lot,” I think to myself as I am usually getting there around dark and most have left for the day. Get out and start to back the boat into the water and realize we had forgotten our ice. Put the clamps back on and sheepishly head back to the Landing and hope no one notices. Virgil is right there and says, “Forgot your ice too?” After flipping him off we head back to the ramp and finally get the boat on the water around 11 AM.

Well, the motor is sluggish and I am worried about it so we decide to simply fish the closest area using the trolling motor. Now I had been provided leads from my very good friend Brian and Tyler, so this area was not on their list but wouldn’t you know it, I catch the first Crappie and he is an over in just a few casts and my son catches an even bigger Crappie right after me. Life is good!

We hit a good clump of Crappie and fish it for quite a while and then proceed to hit trees and stumps throughout the cove but none of it was as good as the first area we hit so we worked our way back over the course of the next three hours or so. I didn’t see anyone else doing any better so I wasn’t too unhappy and thought we ought to be thinking of heading home around 4 PM as we had left our dog, Hutch, all alone and inside since 8:30 AM.

Now comes the real me, the die-hard many of my hunting crew have come to fear and that is, “I’ll just hit this one more stump/tree/structure and we can go.” Or the, “I’ll just hit those two trees and we can go.” This was repeated a number of times before I decided enough was enough for a change – it was nearly 6 PM…

Anyway, we get the boat out and everything situated and head back to Leprechaun to put it in storage for what might be the winter and that is when I think about extending our trip a little and head home via Champaign to pick up some decoys another good friend is holding for me. I ask Jon if that is okay and call Keith who just happens to be home. Get his address and discover that Champaign is a tad farther than I remember, so I put the hammer down and head north hoping Hutch can hold his bladder another two hours or so…

And, then I get another idea - I am full of them too you know! And I ask Jon if he would break his diet for a Papa Del’s Pan Pizza. After much gnashing of teeth, he reluctantly agrees, and we order one for pickup…in 45 minutes. Hey, they are god pizzas! We make it to Keith’s home in record time and after chatting and loading the decoys, he gives my son and me several gifts that he brought home from his sister’s home who had passed away last year. Keith is another very good friend and a very good man.

We leave after maybe 15 minutes of chatting which is unusual for me as I can talk, and talk and…, well, those that know me, know what I mean and we head off to Papa Del’s for our reward. Get the pizza and I realize I have to get gas before leaving town and Jon decides we need paper plates so he goes inside and gets plates while I fuel up. I was done before him so I pulled up to the front and checked my Cell for emails and the like only to discover an unusual icon on the home screen which turned out to be a message that basically said that my niece was at my parents cemetery in Champaign and their tombstone was knocked over and their grave was DUG UP!

I would think that would come as a shock to just about anyone so I called my niece who I had not seen in some time only to get a recording, so I left a message and was creating a text when she called back. Now my parents are buried right across the street from Memorial Stadium at what I joking refer to as near the 50-yard line at Mount Hope and it is home to many former residents of Champaign County – and I thought well regarded. So after telling Jenn I will be there in about 10 minutes, I call the police and get switched around to God only which unit and was told someone would be there shortly.

We make it there through the remnants of the Illini football game crowd (they lost) and arrive to see her van parked with the headlights shining onto the gravestones. That’s when we see that my parent’s gravestone is not the only ones overturned and damaged but that there are several. And, yes, the gravesite appears to have been dug into and the earth thrown back on top. I know my niece loved her Grandparents, as I loved them, so I tried to remain calm and collected. Now my parent’s gravestone is unique and HEAVY. We had it designed when my Mother passed away 31 years ago. It depicts a scene with two people fishing and one has a fish on, while the other is still fishing. And, under my Mother’s name there is the Union Jack, or the British Flag, and under my Father’s is the American Flag. Why? Because my Mother was a war bride and retained her proud British heritage and remained a British subject till the day she died. And, of course, my Father was American and had been in the Army when they met. This all just fit them and we could not tell if it was damaged as it was face down in the dirt.

We all took pictures and when the police came, they were very kind, respectful and considerate. As we took in the macabre scene, with at least five markers or gravestones either overturned or moved, ruts from heavy equipment, dug up graves and the like, my son noticed and pointed out how this one tree looked to have been recently cut, or, damaged and cut – something none of us had even noticed. Then we looked the crime scene over again and started to find wood chips, sawdust and more tire tracks all throughout the gravestones with what appeared to be no respect for hallowed ground by people with a wood-chipper, chainsaw and backhoe.

So, we have now gone from vandalism, grave-robbers, to possible (and incomprehensible) cemetery employees having caused the damage! As no one at the cemetery (living) responded to repeated calls, the police said they would follow-up and get back with us. And, as my parent’s gravestone was still lying face down, they offered to help right it, whereupon it took five of us to simply right it and slide it back into position. There was another gravestone that was face-down but it will take a crane to fix it.

I begrudgingly had to say our goodbyes for they still had a 2.5 hour trip and we had another 90 minutes before we would be home – and poor Hutch needed to be let out. It was a bittersweet moment for me at least, as we had not seen each other in years due to family issues and Jenny and I had been very close when she was younger. She has turned into a great mother, wife and women and…well, nuff said.

So, yes, life for me is a roller-coaster most days and nights but for the most part I like it that way…for the most part!

2015-08-11T00:28:00.003-05:00

Chunk’s Black Licorice

November 1, 2004

By Bob Zettler

My annual trek to North Dakota (ND) is over and its 80 degree’s here in central Illinois (IL) the day before our duck opener! What a difference a week makes!

This was my 15th anniversary of hunting in ND. While I haven’t hunted every year, I have made it there every year now for the last five and each year is a different experience, with the primary item that remains consistent are the great people I meet up there. Whether they are from ND, Illinois, Indiana, Minnesota, Arkansas, Colorado, California, or whatever part of North America, I have been blessed with having hunted with some of the best people you can imagine. I sincerely mean that and especially with regard to ALL the ND hunters I met this year!!

This was one trip I had been preparing for since the summer - a first for me. That meant getting my gear together, sorting through it all, ensuring I had all that I needed, and making final preparations for when I would travel up north and whom I would share time with. In the past four years, that hadn’t been an issue, as I had been hunting for the most part with a good friend in the Granville area. However, this year due to health reasons, he had to drop out and I had to quickly explore alternative opportunities. In addition, while I usually travel to ND the last week of October, I had to amend my itinerary to start a week early as some friends of mine from Arkansas had already scheduled themselves there for the 15-17.

I thought my dark cloud had reappeared into my life and started a mad scramble searching for people to hunt with. For many years now, I had maintained a list of people I either knew, had talked with, or hunted with in ND; a list that had grown from three pages to the current 10 pages. As I sent out emails or called to see what they were up to, I had a reply from someone who it turned out had a house in Kenmare but lived in Indiana. Not only that but they planned on being there during the time I was now scheduling to be there. What was even more amazing was that they invited me to stay and hunt with them and we had never met!!!

Things started to look better.

Then I started to reply to posts on the two primary web sites and mentioned my plight (hint, hint) and lo and behold, I started to hear from several people I had never met before too all who live in ND!!! All of a sudden, my dance card began to fill up.

However, there was another issue that was impacting my trip and that was decoys and hunting gear. You see, I had severely downsized this past year and no longer had the full-size van that would allow me to carry a major portion of my decoys and I hadn’t had to worry about that since my friend in Granville had a trailer and “all the fixin’s.” Now I am driving a four-door Concord and had to fit my 105-pound Yellow Lab in with me to boot. But since my “dance card” was filled up with people who had trailers of gear, I wasn’t too worried. Ever the cautious one, I still wanted to bring along the goose shell decoys and some field duck decoys so I didn’t have to worry. I had the duck decoys all ready and the goose shells sitting outside, when one of our other Yellow Lab’s decided to drag the bag down and chew up the goose heads two days before leaving. God, I hate that dog!

So, I installed a portable luggage rack on the roof of the car, threw an enclosed cargo case on top of that loaded with Raffia grass, PowerHunter blind, some decoys, and the like, packed the inside of the car to the inside roof and filled the trunk, before setting out on my journey north. But as usual, life struck again and I had to have my car worked on just before I left to correct a “Check Engine” light. So, a few hundred dollars lighter, I set off for my 11-hour drive from central IL to Fargo on Friday afternoon, October 15.

Mother Nature must have known I was coming, as I fended off 20+mph head winds ALL the way there, along with rain and jerk drivers. Then, around Minneapolis, my Cell broke. My brand new VERIZON LG4400 cell quit working. Try to imagine driving down the interstate and you realize your lifeline for the next 10 days wouldn’t work and your trying to avoid other vehicles while you try to see if it was something I had done to make it quit. A 100-miles later, I discovered the cell had magically switched to only working with a headset! As I usually carry most everything (ask the people who saw my car). I found a Star Trek earpiece and voila’, it worked. Called Verizon and was told only two places could fix the cell a store in Fargo or Bismarck. I was not a happy camper.

However, I forged on, as I had already made arrangements to hunt with a crew from Fargo and would either meet them at 3 AM in Fargo, or at 4 AM some 50 miles west and we would decide at 3 AM when I called them! As I made it there before 2:30 AM, I decided to get myself ready and clean out the debris that had already started to accumulate in the car by stopping at the Flying J Truck Stop in Fargo. After parking in front out of the wind and getting gas, I let the dog out to stretch his legs and I proceeded to get my gear ready. Around 2:45 AM, I saw a couple of hunters getting gas (in camo and were hauling a trailer), and I asked them if they were going out (3 AM was the earliest I had ever left to go setup in ND ever!) hunting. Well, the guys walked over as if to size me up, and as they drew close, the one guy asked if I was Bob Zettler!

Now, I know my fame sometimes gets the better of me, and that I can appear disorganized, but never in my wildest imagination did I ever anticipate people in ND would start to associate an Illinois car with my name! Yes, my license plate says, “IL HNTR 1”, but how in the world did these guys know my name?

It turns out they were part of the crew I was going to hunt with that day some 70 miles away! I was relieved and we made more complete introductions before departing to catch up with Dan Levin who called to let me know he was on an exit ramp and to meet him there. No one could believe the odds of us running into each other.

Well, the convoy began and some 90 minutes later we started to enter the field we were going to hunt when my “Check Engine” light came on. God, I hate the local Chrysler garage here in Springfield!!! I never slowed down’

Well, we all met there in the dark and what a crew I had lucked into - “my original host djleye and his crew of Gandergrinder, Goosebuster3, Decoyer, and Field Hunter. We ran the gamut from young to middle age. And these guys know their stuff!!! They scout. They have decoys. They have trailers. They have layout blinds. They camo their blinds with natural vegetation found in the field. They are excellent callers. They are excellent hunters. I began to worry they were all Mormons.

This was probably the best hunt of the entire trip and was hard to beat. We took 31 ducks and were pulling out of the field shortly after 10 AM. And my untrained Lab, Chunk, made most of the retrieves. Papa was proud and everyone got a kick out of how he would pounce on the ducks at the end of his retrieve. We didn’t lose any and I lived up to my reputation of not being able to either ID correctly or hit properly waterfowl and they dubbed me the Hen Killer. Hey, I hadn’t been afield since last December and while I wanted Greenheads too, they looked green to me that is until my dog picked them up and brought them back to me.

Anyway, we went to have lunch where I learned firsthand that they ARE NOT MORMONS! Not even close. In addition, in another ironic turn of events, I discovered that I had PM’d a couple of the guys in the last month when one had harvested a banded duck from an organization I had been a Board Member. Starting to get weird’

I was beat, as I had not slept in 36 hours, but called my friends from Arkansas who were staying in Minot and supposed to have been hunting in the Kenmare area as I left my new hunting buddies from Fargo to see how they were doing. They were miserable. It seems the contact they had in Kenmare who said they had set everything up in advance hadn’t exactly gotten it right. After the boys from Arkansas driving 17 hours, with one of them with the Flu, they had joined up with their contact Friday AM to hunt upland and waterfowl. They then proceeded to drive ALL over the area looking for a place to hunt, never once getting out of their vehicles! It appears he hadn’t established a place to hunt and wouldn’t knock on any doors to ask permission!

They weren’t too happy and left him to jump shoot some potholes ND style for the late afternoon. That at least salvaged the day by virtue of them limiting on ducks hunting in a fashion that isn’t possible in Arkansas. When their contact failed to show for supper or get back with them on their hunt for Saturday, they truly weren’t happy, but this wasn’t the worst as they all came down with the 24-hour flu and spent the next 18-hours in the hotel in the bathroom.

I took pity on them and somehow found the energy and drove across the state to meet them in Granville at 2:30 PM. We immediately went to one of my prime pheasant fields and never saw a bird. Went to another, and lo and behold there was a rooster in the road! We jumped out, and unfortunately, I was the only one who scored. That was the extent of the upland hunting for all of us this trip but we did manage to take limits of ducks in several potholes that evening and the next afternoon before they left for Arkansas. Two of them even scored a couple geese Saturday afternoon as a bonus. I felt I had done my job and took care of my friends from Arkansas and another local man who was about to be sent off to South Korea (Army). We all had a great time and Chunk (my Yellow Lab) made some excellent retrieves on land and water.

They left at around 8 PM and I started on my way to Kenmare to meet, stay and hunt with new friends. It was snowing and I finally made it there around 10 PM. Met Bill Jansky and Bill Jansky, Sr., who are from Indiana and have been hunting in the Kenmare area for 15 years. They are the nicest couple of guys! They took me under their wings, provided a bed, decoys to hunt over, and fed me like I was at one of the finest restaurants in ND. I was never going to lose weight staying with these guys! Got to bed without my fan (that is another story) and we joined up with Scott Laullin and Jeff the next morning to hunt Mallards in the blowing snow and ice. While I saw flocks of ducks with the guys on Saturday, there were also tons of Mallards working this Pea field just outside Kenmare. However, they were decoy shy and we were only able to pull 7 or so out of a morning hunt. I also discovered the PowerHunter Blind was too small for me when I was dressed in my hunting attire. If I took a deep breathe, the Velcro would pop open which is not a great thing to discover in the field when there are hundreds of Mallards and the snow is blowing down your neck’

Got back to the house and took my first nap in ND! It felt so great that I did it again the next afternoon after an excellent hunt on a pothole where we limited (almost) on Mallards, Gadwalls, Pintails and BWT. Started to use a lead on my Chunk, as both Bill’s had well-trained Labs and I needed to get Chunk under control and get in line to retrieve. Never provide a long lead attached to a dog that has never been on one before and then attach it to your arm. NEVER! About lost my arm but he did learn quick, them went back for that great food and a nap.

As I had a Swan Permit and wanted to fill it as I had for the previous four years I needed to get after them and decided to hook up for a hunt with PorkChop, who is in the USAF and one HELL OF GUY! Met up with him and Stroeger and we set up for waterfowl. Talk about waterfowl! God, it was great and they let me shoot the first goose that came in with one shot and no one knows or cares here if it was a hen!! We had birds all over us that day and should have limited out on geese and ducks, but due to a variety of reasons, we didn’t - but had a GREAT TIME! No Swans but they did provide some suggestions and I set up later that afternoon but was only successful on ducks. Went back and hunted with the Jansky’s for Thursday and the birds just did not cooperate, so I went on my way towards Stanley in the late morning to try and find that elusive Swan south of Kenmare and north of Stanley. As I was driving around, I found where I had taken my Swan in 1999 by the K-7 missile site and almost ended up in a ravine due to the Jell-O consistency roads before I said to Heck with it and returned to drier fields elsewhere to take several ducks.

Still wanting that Swan, and not being able to get into the geese like I was dying for, I ended up getting together with Porkchop the last Friday morning. As I am cursed with, I was a little late meeting him, and called him from the edge of the field to say I was there. I swear I thought he said he was almost done (God Bless him) with setting out the decoys, so I simply got my gear together and waited. A little later, some latecomers started to try and setup in our field, so I hit them with a Spotlight until they moved over. After 30-minutes of waiting, I began to get concerned and called Porkchop again to see why he was waiting in the field. He said no, he wasn’t done and needed my help! Talk about feeling like a ‘heal’

Well, we got set up and had a good hunt but had to quit early due to prior commitments, and just before the birds started to move into the field. However, I was fortunate enough to watch several tornados of ducks descend into a small winter wheat field and wished I had brought my camera. It was still a great hunt and made so by the camaraderie of my new hunting friends. I ended up the day trying once again for that elusive Swan and other waterfowl. I stayed that night in Minot, as I wanted to be closer to my friends in Granville and the Swans that populated the area. Made it out early the next morning for some pass shooting and finally connected on a nice Snow Goose that folded but decided to regain itself as I swung on another bird, initially looked like he had a busted wing tip but he was able to rejoin the flock and make it to the WPA across the road. Gave it another couple of hours and made my way down to the water’s edge and it looked like the Snow was hanging next to the weeds across the water, so I hiked back and drove around to place myself near where I last saw him. Took Chunk down to the edge and he finally started to get birdy, when all of a sudden I hear this “honk” by where I parked the car and saw that this damn Snow had crawled through the weeds to the road and began flying away!!! Needless to say, I never touched a feather and the last I saw him, he was headed for Devils Lake!

I began to think my trip was over and decided to hit the local potholes until the Swans started to fly in the afternoon. Managed four ducks two were BWT and I was giving up around 6 PM when my friend showed up and asked me, “Did you get your Swan, to which I replied, “No” and he said, “Follow me.”

Without any further discussion, I got in my mudball, I mean car, and proceeded to follow him for about 20 minutes till we came upon a pothole that was covered in white! I couldn’t believe it. I had 15 minutes left and there were 300 Swans just 60 yards away from the road and the road was much lower than the pothole! I threw off my jacket and made sure I had a few shells before I headed on one of the easiest stalks I had ever made -much easier than the one I forgot to mention that I made around 1 PM that day only to get to the edge of the pothole and discover the Swans were still another 120 yards away. Here I have been driving, searching and hunting for Swans most of the week, and here they are just yards away and STAYING PUT! It took me all of 5-minutes to make it to the edge and peer through the reeds and saw that there were Swans within 20 yards of me and they were still holding.

Trying to be as sporting as one can be, I stood up and they began to fly off and away. I waited until this one was just into the air and busted him, breaking a wing. Reloaded (unfortunately, Steel BB’s) and proceeded to keep shooting at him on the water while all these birds (Tundra Swans, Snow geese, Canada geese and ducks of all types) were still taking off around me, with some even still trying to land near me. He proceeded to swim to the other side and I said let Chunk out. He made in seconds but took one look at the moving bird and said, “Say what?”

I was running out of time and decided to forge my way to the other side and ended up giving up walking through the reeds due to their density (Moses would never have been found if it had been like this back then) and grabbed a couple of #2’s before making it over to the other side. As I came close to where I had last saw him, he broke from the reeds and started to flap/swim back to the other side when I finally connected with the #2’s and put him down. Chunk saw this, and with the bird still flailing in the water, Chunk made a 60-yard retrieve and back to the reed’s edge where he left the damn bird. After fighting my way out to the Swan, I could see why it was thicker than snot! I grabbed the Swan and began my slow, laborious trek back to the field all with three-minutes to spare. It was some of the roughest walking I had even made, and it wasn’t any easier carrying a big Swan without waders on in water up to my nuts. I could only take five steps and rest before starting out for another five steps.

My good friend’s son, Randy Elliott was there waiting and took my gun and bird to help me out THANK GOD! His first words were congratulations on getting a banded bird. I said, sure before he showed me it was BANDED!!! I could have kissed him if he wasn’t bigger than me. What an end to a trip that started out with a lot of anxiety!!! I got to meet and hunt with A LOT of new friends, shoot a bunch of ducks, a couple of geese, eat like a pig, and took a BANDED Swan!! Life is good, regardless of the Cell and car issues.

We all made it back to Granville; I showered and prepped the car for the trip home, before leaving around 9 PM. It was difficult to say goodbye but I was on a high now and wanted to make Grand Forks before crashing for the night. However, I was thrown another curve when dense fog developed and when I made Grand Forks around 1 AM, I discovered the hockey game had taken ALL the hotel rooms. Here I was driving in pea soup fog and now had to drive another 90 miles to Fargo before I could sleep. I almost didn’t make it, as I was exhausted, scared of a deer ruining my trip, but made it to Fargo and was in my hotel bed at 4 AM after another long day! I was done and set out for home around 1 PM and arrived at 3 AM the next day.

It seems that every trip I make to ND is different. While I come up for the geese primarily, the last several years I have ended up getting into the ducks and upland game more often BUT I have ALWAYS BEEN BLESSED BY THE PEOPLE I HAVE MET AND SHARED TIME WITH. A big thank you goes out to Dan Levin, Bill (Jr. & Sr.) Jansky, Leo Porchello, Randy Elliott, Ron Elliott Jed Fluher, Tyler Ellenson, Zach Herman, Monte Herman and all the others I met and hunted with on this trip. Please forgive me if I have left anyone off but please know that you are ALWAYS welcome in my home and where I hunt here in Illinois. Thank you all and I look forward to hearing about your experiences in the coming months!!!

2015-08-10T19:48:00.003-05:00

“Get the lid Greg”
By Bob Zettler
January 20, 2008

Where in the World is "Carmen" Zettler?

Niska. It was the last weekend of the Illinois duck season for the southern zone and I was prepared for whatever man, nature, God and the Devil might throw my way as I decided to start out early and head to Rend Lake on Friday morning. Instead of public hunting, we decided to take advantage of the hospitality at Niska Farms just outside Nason and adjacent to the refuge.

Nick Shafer and I have a relationship with John Clark, the owner, and we decided to go after the geese rather than ducks for the morning. There was Nick, his partner in crime John Nolan, and a newbie who had never shot a goose yet, called “Hetty.” Not his real name but something he had been tagged with by some ladies as he was attending SIU-C. Why, we still do not know but I bet there is a story in there somewhere¦

Anyway, we set up an excellent spread of field decoys and had the entire club to ourselves while we waited on the birds in our luxurious Hill Pit. I even brought pastries and Nick had his two dogs who would be used to collect our bounty. As usual, the birds did not fly early and that provided us the time to chat and discuss the world economy situation as it relates to waterfowling - right! And then it came out, this Hetty was related by blood to our own drylock at the Refuge! Now that is a downright scary thought having another one of his ilk hunting next to me but I forged on after calling drylock to confirm and tease him about how good we were doing!

Anyway, the only thing that got harvested that morning was the pastries by Nick’s dogs, no wonder they were quiet, as the birds just did not fly like they did the day before where several had been taken and many more missed. Go figure as I was there now! However, we stuck it out till 1 PM and picked up as Nick had to get to work and I then spent some time with John Clark who is 75 years young to talk a little about Niska and waterfowling.

Springfield. All too soon I was on the road and headed home but man was I tired! Too many miles and too little sleep were taking its toll on me and I did not get into the Springfield area until nearly 6 PM where I was headed to bed ASAP and that is where I learned I had to pick up my daughter from work after 9 PM. Crap! As I could tell how beat I was and that losing another four hours of sleep was in the offing, I called Billy Melvin and Greg Masterson that I would not be able to make it down there in time for Saturday morning. I had an invite from Greg Masterson to come down for some time but we just never established a date or time and Billy was still trying to get me that Bull Can or Sprig or any doggone duck that was still in the area!

Anyway, Billy said to call when I got in the area and I could join up with them. I had planned on getting there around 7 AM but as my luck would have it that was the time I woke up in bed! Talk about refreshed and relaxed! Took a quick shower and headed on down the road knowing I could join with Billy for a hunt for that morning if he was still out or that afternoon if they hadn’t limited. Greg was on hold as we hadn’t been able to talk directly yet and that Olive Branch is WAY down there!

Macoupin County. On my way down I-55 I started to see some wisps of smoke on the horizon in front of me as I approached as area we hunt but as I drew closer that smoke turned into flocks of SOB’s! My God there was a line of SOB’s stretching from east of the Interstate all the way to the horizon in the west so I decided to pull off and watch the show. This procession continued for at least another 20 minutes while I called my hunting buddies to inform them of how our fields were most likely getting covered with geese.

Heck, I even saw the Canada geese start dropping right into the same field we hunted in on New Year’s Eve day and did they drop! It wasn’t one of those a flock here and a flock there but it was as if the ground had sprung a leak and a flood of grey crude was spreading out from a central hole! These dark geese continued to simply drop in and huddle together to feed in this spot which grew in diameter every minute to the point I was considering jumping out and over the fence with my shotgun and a few dekes to bag an easy limit but I had people waiting¦

And then a single Snow dropped in and it was if the recess bell had rung as now the SOB’s started to drop into the grey pool and taking over. No wonder the Tundra is in danger for the Canada geese!

Nashville. After nearly 30 minutes I had to get going again and eventually reached Nashville (Illinois) where I stopped again for a coveted Mocha Latte from the DQ; which just happened to be having a half-price sale! My kind of people! So, while I was snug and warm in my van with an ice cold drink, I decided to call Billy to see if I could still join him but discovered they had already quit for the morning and were headed home to warm up. No big deal but I was starting to think about calling someone to start a thread in the Carmen Sandiego vein of, “Where in the world is Zettler now”, but forged on in hopes of still hunting with Greg down at his club in Olive Branch.

Jackson County. I then made another couple of quick stops in Murphysboro and Carbondale before getting on Route 51 southbound. Now I hadn’t been on Route 51 in years and was amazed at all the new homes, better road conditions and the like, all ensconced in some beautiful southern Illinois countryside. Sure, it was still cold outside but the sun was shining and the ride was enjoyable as compared to all my usual early morning or evening drives the past few months in the dark while I traveled to and from hunting locations. And here I was in a comfortable new used mini-van going up and down the rolling countryside’s hills when I realized I was a tad over the limit so I began to let off the pedal only to see a State trooper headed northbound slam on his brakes and flip on his lights. Que sera!

Makanda. I was pulled over before he even got turned around and waited on him with the window open and my hands in plain sight - experience from my rebel rousing days - and greeted him with the statement that I knew I had been speeding but had been slowing down just before I spotted him as I had just crested a hill. I asked him how fast he had me as I am sure he would have seen I was slowing down but was shocked to learn he had clocked on me at 73 MPH. Yep, ole Zett’s was speeding but my speedometer had said 66 or so when I caught it and before he turned on his lights. We talked for a minute and I exclaimed that I knew I was wrong and just wasn’t use to the conditions. Now here is where it takes a different turn, after he asks if I had any recent tickets and I respond it has been a long, long time he says that he is inclined to issue me a warning! Hold it! This is me, the Dark Cloud who done the dirty deed and I am in SOUTHERN ILLINOIS with a STATE TROOPER!! How can I be so lucky????

He disappears to check me out on-line and comes back five minutes later with a WARNING TICKET for going 64 MPH in a 55 MPH zone. I gotta buy a lottery ticket!!!! He was very nice about it and we talked for another couple of minutes before I realized I better shut up or he might rethink his position and throw me in the hoosegow with Bubba! Wow! All I can say is wow as State Troopers are not known for leniency and I just got lucky. Many thanks to this trooper!

Olive Branch. As I approach Olive Branch, I realize I still do not know where Greg’s club is located and cannot raise him on the telephone so I call Gimp Hunter. Norm provides directions and of course I drive right on by and only realize it when I am a mile past Worthington’s club - a club that 20 years ago would tell you to leave if you shot at a duck when there were geese around. Anyway, I go back and stop at the Southern Aire to ask directions and realize this is the spot! They get Greg on the radio and tell me to get ready. Well, you don’t have to tell me twice so I throw on my camo, waders and get my blind bag and gun. Herman comes over and has me get in his car for the drive over to the pit. It wasn’t far but it was in an area that I had never been to down at Olive Branch. You see I use to hunt geese down there starting back in the late 1970’s all the way through 1990 but that ended when I got hooked on North Dakota and thought I had money. And I did still have another connection down there as my former mother-in-law was born and raised there but I could never recall her maiden name!

But I digress as usual.

Now many know that southern Illinois has some of the most beautiful scenery, what with the aforementioned rolling hills, and then the waterways, forests and quaint hamlets scattered throughout the hidden valleys and hideaways but it is also some of the poorest country this side of Appalachia! Don’t get me wrong but per capita is some of the lowest in Illinois down there and Alexander County “persons living below poverty in 2004 was 23.8%.And losing the distinction of being the “Goose Capital of the World” back in the 1990’s has had a profound impact on the people and businesses down there what with the northern shifts in goose migration and where hunters now go to harvest a Honker.

But having said that, some have realized that there was a little silver lining in that Dark Cloud by virtue of the value of the ducks that continued to migrate south. Sure, they too can get short-stopped when the winter weather stays mild and there are plenty of warm water spots for them to linger around and on. But for the most part, what with the confluence of the Mississippi and Ohio Rivers meeting right there and the presence of the Cache River continuing to increase its influence every season, you have a duck hunters dream!

There is flooded timber galore and now the landowners have adapted to our evolving waterfowling world by working the lands for ducks primarily, instead of geese. Now don’t get me wrong, there are still geese migrating in but not always like they did. Yet, even that dynamic is changing. You see, some people like Greg Masterson have been trying to imprint Canada geese into the area every year now for some time. In addition, and this is something most Illinois waterfowlers already know, is that the Snow and Blue goose have invaded southern Illinois too! What began as a few here and there back in the early 1990’s has exploded into 100’s of thousands of those SOB’s flowing throughout the state many times taking over large tracts of refuge lands originally established for the Canada goose. Those poor Canada’s just can’t get a break, first they start losing their nesting habitat and now they are plagued by these noisy interlopers the length and run of their migratory path too!

And while there are still goose hunting clubs, leases and the like throughout Alexander, Union, Williamson and Jackson Counties, it looks to me that hidden away in Alexander are a bunch of duck hunting opportunities and I mean a bunch! And when you see Big Money people move in and establish a place here and there for themselves where the sole purpose is to kill ducks for themselves, friends and clients, then you know you’re on to something. For when I heard how much some of the land was going for in what used to be some of the cheapest land you could find this side of a toxic waste site, you realize that maybe they have turned a corner!

Once again, I digress!

Back to hunting. Herman drives me down a paved back road to an entrance into the woods where you can begin to see some flooded crops scattered throughout, a number of vehicles some high dollar and others held together by the rust they have earned over the years and ducks. Not just a couple of ducks but a BUNCH of ducks! Shangri-La, we have arrived!!!

I get my waders on as I did not bring any hip boots, grab my blind bag and cased shotgun and head on down the path to where Greg Masterson and Dave, his client, are standing in a concrete pit. It is maybe 100 yards away but I stop halfway when I see they have left their gun case on the path. As I start to uncase mine and yell to ask if I needed to just bring shells as it is only a three-man pit, a voice 20 yards responds that those are his and I should just go ahead to the pit! WTH? I learn later that it seems Greg has thrown out a friend of his to make room for me but I just thought it was another hunter waiting in the wings for when one of us kills out, so I go ahead and make my way to the temple! I mean, the pit.

This spot has water in front, to the west and behind, with the dozen decoys set behind us and one Robo just spinning inches above the waterline. There are hunters in pits all around us but separated by tree lines and maybe twice the distance you would find elsewhere which improves the hunting in my opinion. Introductions are made and I climb in with Greg in the middle to call the shots. Inside the pit were chairs and concrete blocks to step up on to shoot. The lids were heavy-duty wire fence with green willow branches intertwined so you could look through but provide a break-up to hide us below. There were three lids and they opened with the hinge behind us. I likee!

This is Dave’s first duck hunt but he had been hunting geese for years up in the Northern Zone where they would just come in droves in response to your calling and location. As a matter of fact, that is how Dave and Greg had met when Greg was guiding up there this past season. It was after a hunt where Greg enticed those Canada geese right down on top of Dave and the rest of the hunters so sweetly with one of Masterson’s calls that when Dave learned his name, he was thrown for a loop. You see Dave had heard of and watched Greg hunting on videos in the past and knew of his abilities and talents (hunting that is) but was shocked to actually meet him and hunt with him up in the Chicago area no less! And since Dave had never hunted ducks, and since Greg not only makes and sells calls, he also offers some of the best opportunities to harvest a variety of waterfowl, Dave knew he had to come on down to hunt with one of the best.

As I was a guest, I made the decision to only shoot after Dave and it wasn’t long before he and I had my first opportunity; actually, it was as soon as I made it to the pit! With a cloudless blue sky and a bright sun in our faces, I was having difficulty spotting the ducks before they were right there in front but Greg wanted them in your face so he would work them with his own Greg Masterson duck call till they were locked up, feet down and almost in the water. With the decoys behind us and the woods with the pathway I walked to the pit on my side, the open water on Dave’s side seemed to be more inviting as these green-headed Mallards were all coming to the call right in front of and to the right of Dave who was on the west side of the blind. That is okay as once he shoots then I will unload because Greg isn’t even loaded! Heh! Heh!

That first duck drops right in on Dave and Greg calls the shot, even raising all three lids for us to make the kill easier. We rise and after a couple of seconds Dave shoots, shoots again and then that Drake Mallard is clawing his way out of there so I pull up on him just as he puts himself between me and the bright, shining Sun! Now I have to wait a second or two and I miss, miss and miss. WTH! Must be the excitement from the drive down and having Mallards right in our faces that caused us to miss. Yeah, that has to be it. Now, this same scene is repeated again and again to the point I am seriously wondering what is wrong with my shotgun, choke, shotshells, and of course ME! No one else concerns me as I am the one missing shots at Mallard drakes well within range.

Sure, I am waiting on Dave to shoot first and he is a little slow getting on the ducks.

Sure, that when I get my chance I have to wait till they are either in front or behind and not over the other hunters so I will not ring their ears.

Sure, that nine out of 10 times (or at least that percentage) I am shooting at Mallard Drakes as they are beating wings and webbed feet out of there a number of seconds AFTER the lids are opened, Dave takes his shot(s) and I can now take a shot without future impairment of my pit partners.

Sure, 8 out of those same 10 opportunities that when I do get the chance to pull the trigger it is only AFTER the Mallard Drake has cleared the ever-present Sun in my eyes.

But what in the name of Sam Hill is going on that I am hitting about a fifth of what I shoot at only to see them make it over to the next harvest hole opportunity where someone else brings them to bag!!!!

Unfortunately, I am shooting Winchester HV 3” shotshells in the BB configuration when I should be shooting my regular #2’s but I grabbed the wrong box AND had taken all the 3” #2’s out of my blind bag just the night before where I left them at home. As a matter of fact, all I had were BB’s in 3” and 3 ½ shotshells, except for a couple of boxes of Remington Wingmaster HD 3” #4’s and I use those for geese! Now I look over and find that Dave is using the same Remington Wingmaster HD 3” #4’s and he hasn’t touched a feather while I had been there. And since he got there around 11 AM, it appears from the number of shells he has unleashed so far that they were not the answer except to the shareholders of Remington Ammunition stock!

Now Greg was patient and kept reminding us that it was okay and we had not seen anything yet (duck wise) but our shooting was getting so bad that even he decided to load up in order to assist at least on the cripples. However, Greg seems to be more frugal than me and after he pulled some shotshells out of his pocket, I watched as he began to scratch the rust off of them! He wouldn’t take any shells from me even though I had plenty as he was steadfast in seeing Dave got his first duck and that we as a crew would eventually take our limits. Maybe so but now I was not only embarrassed but concerned that I would ever connect, as these numbers of working Mallards could not continue to provide us with so many opportunities even though we had two hours or so left in the day!

I was really railing at myself over my not being able to connect. No, I did not ridicule Dave as he had to deal with a totally different set of circumstances too: he had never hunted ducks; he had never hunted out of pit like this; he had the sun to deal with too, and; he had to feel peer pressure from all of us and that poor guy lying out in the woods watching all of this unfold! I understood all of this but it didn’t make it easier for me as I was flat out missing close and many times easy shots at big, fat Mallard Drakes. Now I hope Dave did not do this because he felt I was upset with him, as there was no reason to be upset with him, but he offered to switch ends with me in an attempt to maybe change our luck. Yes, he had heard that one of my nicknames was Dark Cloud but I think he did it out of compassion and sharing, two traits not always found when people are hunting waterfowl.

By now I had convinced Greg to take some of my shells as after how many rounds (sign of embarrassment) we still did not have a duck of our own on the water, so he stood ready to back me up now. It didn’t take long before he dropped a nice Drake Mallard off of my end and when the shot was called - BOOM! I got the stink off! Call it skill. Call it luck. Call it “about damn time”! Whatever the case, we finally had one down and it was killing time again! Now for the most part, if the ducks were anywhere in front, behind or on Dave’s side, we let him shoot first and for whatever reason he connected all by himself and it was another nice, big Greenhead Mallard. No bands for his first trophy but a memorable bird nonetheless!

Pretty soon we all had a number of Greenheads down and then we see one winging its way towards us from the distance but out in front. Now we are all hunkered down with Greg balancing his lid on his head as he watched and called at the lone duck. And he knows along with a lot of people of my desire to finally connect on a Bull Canvasback or Sprig (Pintail), so when he said this one was a Sprig I loudly said, “Right you jerk”! But then a couple of seconds later as this lone duck passes in front I see that tell-tail sign of his tail feather spike and it is as if a wall of stone falls over me. Some might call it “the zone”, or others might refer to it going “snake-eyed”. But whatever it was I was now as one with the world. There was nothing but me with my shotgun and that Drake Sprig. Nothing at all but that lid residing just over my head that up until now I had tried to assist Greg in opening each and every time so as to be a participant and not someone just watching. So when that Sprig was dropping into the water right out in front on my side and I decided to call the shot I said in a dead-serious voice that would have stopped a bar fight in progress, “Get the lid Greg”, he obliged.

I raised as if one with the world. I felt nothing as I shouldered my gun and released the safety placing the plane of the barrel right on that Sprig who was just becoming aware of my presence. I pulled the trigger without concern, fear or anxieties even though I had forgotten three times already that afternoon to either reload or chamber a shell. He was right there starting to climb upwards and out of there when the blast broke through the air between the two of us and then I saw it. I saw the pellets impact him right in the chest and he begin to fall as if his batteries had just died. No puff of feathers. No body parts flying or torn asunder. Just him falling belly up into the water right in front of the pit on my side about 15 yards away. His webbed feet giving a kick or two before the hounds of Hell erupted from inside the pit as I burst apart with 20+ years of pent up frustration of not being able to successfully kill a Bull Sprig on my own in Illinois, North Dakota, South Dakota and Texas. The content and context of my screams were primeval in nature mixed in with profanities that most would consider fighting words and were sure to halt the Mighty Ohio and Mississippi Rivers flow for the time they reverberated southward out of Olive Branch and all the way to the Gulf of Mexico. They might even be passing Venus right now and you can expect a flare of unusual sun spots next week as they tear into the sun itself.

Yes, I was happy. No, I was more than happy, I was ecstatic. And after punching the walls of the pit with my fists of joy and even my head I turned to look at the ashen faces of Greg and Dave who were looking for either an escape route or my return to sanity but we were interrupted by the radio asking if everyone was all right and if we needed an ambulance. No, the only body bag that day was reserved for that Bull Sprig as he lied peacefully on his back just yards away from the lucky and extremely happy hunter who just punched his ticket. And even though I left him out there for a little while which provided Greg the opportunity to tease me with questioning of where that Sprig had disappeared to I knew that no matter what happened the rest of the day or night, nothing could match what I just experienced! Nothing at all!

We ended up with seven Mallards and my Bull Sprig that I retrieved myself from out there in the ice. And it was so cold that it still had a piece of ice stuck to him as I cradled, yes, that is correct, I cradled that bird back to the pit when we quit early to let the ducks back in for the end of the season hunt I looked forward to the next day - Sunday, January 20. And as we took pictures and exchanged pleasantries and reviewed the time together, all I could do was see that series of mental pictures in my mind over and over again of that Bull Sprig as he cupped in front of me, the shot hitting him and how he laid there in the icy water not moving. It was a great feeling and one that will live with me forever I hope. Where I spent time with a master call maker, caller, waterfowler and a new inductee to duck hunting in a little place outside Olive Branch. A place that a decade before was reeling from the losses of absent Canada geese but has now established itself as a duck hunting Mecca for people who are experienced and those who are not. It has been a season of new and old for me. I have met and hunted with a lot of new people at new places but I have also hunted old places with old friends and one Heck of a mix of old and new. And while my primary mission this trip had been to close out the season with Greg duck hunting I had accomplished so much more!

POSTSCRIPT

We made it back to the club house where I was introduced to not only Don Masterson, Greg’s Father, but a whole bunch of people who live and work down there. The libations began and dinner was soon being served after we were joined by others including Ko-Ko’s owners who were nice enough to bring me a bottle of Seagram’s Seven I ordered so we wouldn’t run out when Greg’s half-gallon went empty. The menu was an excellent Italian Beef made from deer meat, garnish, chips and some fabulous baked beans as provided by Herman’s wife.

It was quite the group but one thing ran true through them, they were either from the Olive Branch area or were passionate waterfowlers. And even before people had finished dinner, the table was cleared for a friendly game of poker where no one tried to screw one another or backbite anyone but people enjoying each other’s company and having a good time. Not much was spent as the poker stakes were kept to $5 or $10 and the food prepared or provided by everyone I helped with the Seagram’s and Coke.

And as we relaxed and savored the day - and even the season - stories were told and shared amongst ourselves. Stories about each other and of those who are no longer with us. No loud voices raised in anger or intimidation, just good people having a good time. And as the hour grew late and the alcohol was definitely warming our cockles, Greg, Kyle and I decided to get some more ice from Ko-Ko’s. Kyle drove as I was already in no shape to be behind the wheel and we decided to have another drink or two there. For a Saturday night it wasn’t too crowded and that was okay with me since we could get to know each other better and continue to savor life in general. As I learned that Greg was quite the Babe Magnet, we were soon joined by an attractive woman, but we then decided to follow her to another bar called Decoy’s.

Now this place was hopping but here I was still in my hunting clothes - with sweat pants instead of jeans. Yet, I didn’t seem to care and never even thought of it till now. And as the drinks continued to arrive at the table from where I was not sure.

I could afford as I had not brought but $40 since I came to hunt and never thought about partying and it was almost gone. I continued to melt into the woodwork or whatever. And even though there wasn’t a McDonald’s there, I seem to recall going outside to the porch and watering the rails without a care in the world several times before someone decided to show me they had indoor plumbing and then drive back to the clubhouse with the ice we went for hours before.

As Kyle was driving, I took the backseat and almost sobered up on the way back when he hit 110 MPH on some blacktop. Yes, he was Mario Andretti in his Volkswagen whatever and the only thought I had was please God, keep the deer away!

Things get hazy here as I knew we didn’t have to go out hunting till around 10 or 11 AM that morning and I knew I was staying here and not at a hotel in the Cape or locally, it is just that I am not sure what all went on between Le Mans and the bed I found myself fully-clothed right there in the clubhouse and all alone. I do recall the one married couple (Billy and Amy) deciding to come to bed too and how worried I was when he informed his wife how he was going to ravage her. Why? I thought they were going to use the bed I was in!!! Luckily they went one bed over and as I listened for the sound of clothes being ripped off one another and the tell-tale screams of ecstasy or pain, I was greeted almost immediately with the loud snoring of someone with a built-in amplifier! I threw myself out of bed, walked outside barefooted in the 10 degree night air and brought my electric box fan inside so I could try and block the sounds of Paul Bunyan sawing logs two-foot away.

The next thing I knew it was just before 7 AM and sunlight was creeping through the windows. So much light! And while I was prone, my head did not hurt but my bladder was full and every now and then you heard someone in the other rooms. Finally, someone made breakfast which was bacon, eggs, biscuits and gravy so I had to get up for a while at least. But as soon as I was done, we all retired to our respective sleeping areas.

Now I kept waiting on someone to roust me and the others to go hunting and when Dave showed up I heard Greg send him out with ___, so I wasn’t in a hurry since I knew deep down I was going to regret last night. So, I would get up for a few minutes and then back to bed when I saw Greg and Kyle sacked out. And when Kyle went outside to barf, I knew I had been out with giants but we were all simply human at heart. And I have to tell you, eating bacon and gravy when you are hung-over are not two items I would recommend. Yes, they were great going down but mixed with the “stuff” fermenting in my digestive track, I continued to burp and feel like, well, you know, all day long.

And around 2 PM, Kyle decided to head back to Paducah where he will most likely be babied by one of the women who sent him erotic text messages complete with pictures the night before but he wanted to drive around Horseshoe first so I went along. Big mistake! Up until now my head and body had been lulled into believing it was going to be alright - WRONG!!! For as soon as we arrived at the area we had hunted the afternoon before and now saw that all had frozen over Dan and his guide had only killed one Green Wing teal so far and they had been out three hours it all started to rock and roll. The 800 MG of Ibuprofen was having no impact and I openly wished we had a bottle of Oxygen on hand like what we used in the USAF to clear the cobwebs. However, as we drove through the area and along the Horseshoe Lake Refuge, we saw ducks and geese all over just resting among the cypress or out in the fields. We even saw a number of cripples and dead ones with one Snow taking off right beside the truck that I probably could have caught it if I had tried!

As we drove through the area I reflected on the people I had spent time with over the last couple of days and all that we had talked about, places we went and things that we did…at least what I could remember. It had been another nostalgic trip down memory lane and one that opened new doors for me and maybe those I met. I watched a Father and son enjoy their company and of their friends. I saw more ducks that I can recall all season from an area that I only looked for geese from during a past life. And while I am sure I talked too much, I also listened. I listened to people, nature and to life as lived in Southern Illinois. A place so removed from the hustle and bustle of Springfield, Chicago and St. Louis, and even places like Mt. Vernon, Vandalia and Peoria where people can live and enjoy life even when it throws them curveballs, sliders and even beaners. That maintains its own culture but still lets others inside if not forever but at least for a taste that will bring most of us back again and again. Good people. Good times. Great opportunities!

Anyway, Kyle dropped me off and after talking with Greg, and I decided to hit the road as neither of us was in any shape to go out there. And so for us the season ended a day early and for a change, which was more than alright with me! After all, how could I top my Bull Sprig! Well, there is that Bull Can I am after too!

For a three hour tour....

2015-07-20T00:41:00.001-05:00

"For a three hour tour. A three hour tour"

Well I got home from the blind drawing at Pittsfield and decided to take a quick nap...and just got up! That's right, seven hours later and I semi-forced myself too.

I had been not feeling well since Tuesday night from something I ate or drank which was still with me yesterday when I went fishing on what was the hottest day (for me) of the year. Got on the water around 7 am and went to one of my favorite deep brush piles and stayed too long. In fact, I never got a bite!

Decided to hit the Lythia Cove area finally and it varied from too much wind to no wind but the heat kept getting worse. I finally got on fish and kind of lost track of time - I had planned on leaving around 1-2 pm. And then i overheated.

I was so concerned about leaving and possibly passing out that I decided to cool off there in the shade. At first I just got my shirt wet, put some ice in it and placed on my neck. Not enough.

Then I got the bag the ice came in and with a couple of pounds of ice in it, simply placed the dripping bag on top of my head and then my shirt over it to keep it in place.

Still not enough. So then I put my bare feet in ice too! I finally felt somewhat coherent and looked at my cell which had been in the back of the boat - it was 5:30!!!!!!

I immediately took off and crashed through the waves on the way to the ramp only to discover a bunch of idiots had taken it over with tents -that's right, TENTS - and kids, and Sea Doos and the like, as if they owned it. I was pissed. So I pulled into the outside edge of where the ramps steps are and shut the engine off BEFORE I stopped. Big mistake as it was concrete. I guess I still wasn't up to par as the bow has a nice dent in the thick aluminum front.

Got the van, trailered it and dropped it off at Leprachaun before heading to a friends 50th birthday party. Yep, no shower and only a change of shirts: and man was my shorts soaked from all the ice. Drove like a madman and arrived at what I feared might be over by 8 pm. Luckily, it wasn't.

Grabbed a chair and began drinking water. That's right, no soda or beer, just water. I had already drank a gator ade and several sodas on the way but needed more. Finally ate something, the first since 4 am, an hour later and stayed till everyone had left...that is except Arick Clark who was on his second 30-pack and spending the night.

Was home and in bed before 1:30 but began (still) having issues and had to get up twice during the night. Got up around 9 am, showered and was late getting on the road for the blind drawing. Put the hammer down, ate a couple of Ho-Ho's and made it there as the rain started at 1130.

Was standing next to Ryan Hagenah and Dan Veile when I overheard Ryan say "he said he would be here by 1135" and I shocked them by saying I was! Everyone had umbrellas or raincoats for the most part and that was a wise choice for the rain started down heavy and blowing just before the drawing.

I had a fairly big umbrella and tried to not only stay somewhat dry but help protect our one guy without. As we congregated close together in our group, that rain really whipped down and across us all.

They finally started calling out names and people started getting boisterous. However I was amazed when they called the fifth name and that person had already left!

Then they kept calling names from places all over. From Quincy, to around Saint Louis, to Springfield and Hardin? A lot of names from Hardin. I mean A LOT!

Finally, the guy I had been trying to keep dry (but I wasnt going to hug him to stay warm) got drawn and we got pretty much what we wanted. But by them a lot of people had left and it was pass after pass. I guess that when a group got drawn, the rest left. So the "man" decides (several times) to do a redraw of the remaining people for there were nearly 15 or more blinds still available. That didn't come to pass and maybe 30-40 people remained so he asked someone from each group to come up and tell him what blind they wanted, and if everyone only wanted a different blind, then he would just dole them out.

Didn't work at first. But then after a fashion, everyone had what they wanted but a couple. One of the remaining blinds left was 13, the same number I took three years ago. As it must not be that great, I asked one of the guys how was it and he said it was diver blind. I appreciated his input and decided what the Hell, maybe I could get somebody in on it and do what we did three years ago.

You know it's funny, when your name is on a blind you can go pretty much whenever you want. However, when your name isn't on it in subsequent years, and even though you show up to help draw, the phone doesn't ring...

Anyway, I say what the Hell and ask for 13 only to discover two other people now want it too. But one of the guys was the very person who had been helpful just minutes before. So I make a quick decision to go ahead and draw for it as I felt the odds were better if I did. I mean, if I backed out he would only have a 50-50 chance but with two of us, it would be a 67%!

Put our names on cards and they drew for it and....I got it! Talked to the young man and his partner from Missouri (I won't hold that against them) and offered it basically to them to which they seemed happy. Filled out my paperwork and handle it to them.

Not sure how much I'll hunt it but hope my good Karma helps us all.

By now the rain had basically ceased and my guys and I hit the road. Then it dawned on me I hadn't asked them if they wanted on that blind and felt bad. Reached out to them and was told no problem....whew!

Hit the highway and get home around 3 pm and decide on a nap of a couple of hours and just now got up for the first time - 7.5 hours later.

Anyway, sorry for the long tale but blame it my still being delirious or old age. I hope the guys from Missouri are happy as I know my buddies and me are. As for me, headed back to bed after my "three (+) hour tour."

2015-07-05T15:17:00.000-05:00

Jugging and Jigging

By Bob Zettler

July 5, 2015

While I actually used minnows, I had a good Fourth by past standards.

Went over to Leprechaun Landing early afternoon on Friday to work on boat. I had to replace the transponder on the bow as it was showing a flashing 60 for depth and do some other minor maintenance. Finally got to the line at the ramp after six and discovered it was the high water ramp which I hadn’t used before – it is STEEP!

Anyway, no fights getting it on the water and was able to head out by 7 PM. Man was it still choppy! Had minnows, worms and leaches on board and decided to hit at least one spot for Crappie before my friend, Benny shows up for “jugging” and let me tell you it is rough trying to find the spot and hold on it without that front unit as it still didn’t work! Seems that now the fuse was blown and somehow my container of backup fuses was missing – should have checked it BEFORE I hit the water…

Next on the list was my remote for the trolling motor wasn’t working – either a dead battery on the remote or??? So back to the foot pedal and now the on/off for the motor wasn’t working! And I improvised by turning the switch to on and simply sliding the speed control but then the turning contacts on the right side acted up and I got pissed and smashed the on/off for good I’m afraid…

My Noodle WIP

Only caught a couple of small Crappie and one nice one before it was time to head back to pick up Benny who had so graciously picked up some fuses from Casey’s. Now I hadn’t finished my noodles for jugging but I had ten jugs on hand that Virgil Smith loaned me from Leprechaun Landing – THANK you Virgil and Benny had another eight so we had enough to get stated.

Neither of us had been on Shelbyville to Jug but I had thought going up Wolf might produce so we motored up there in the darkness. No one else was there and Benny tried his hand at netting some shad and after a dozen+ tries gave up and it was up to the leaches and nightcrawlers. We baited all 18 jugs and placed them around and thought we would try out my LED light for the first time in a couple of years – the last time it’s predecessor shorted out and almost got me twig and berries as I was sitting above the compartment where the battery was stored!

We went to one tree that Benny liked and tried our hand for 90 minutes or so and did terrible - just a couple of small Crappie and Whites. I took the time to put together six of my Noodle Jugs and we went back to check on things. At first it looked like the jugs were where we had placed them but then we noticed several had been pulled into the flooded brush. The first one had a straightened hook which meant we lost a BIG one. Another came up with a carp and the third had a really nice Catfish on it that had tangled himself in the brush. Finally got him in the net and as Benny did, it came off the hook – good timing!

Benny's Catch

That was it. SO we decided to make sushi out of the Carp and baited them all again and my six noodles and then placed them in another area hoping for the best. As it was getting late, we only fished for another hour and went back to check on things and lo and behold I had a fish on one of my jugs. No, not the new ones but the loaner. Wasn’t anywhere as big as Benny’s but it was my first. Seeing Benny was now several hours late getting home (I told him to tell his wife to blame me), I dropped Benny off at the ramp while I cleaned up.

Sunrise July 5, 2015

As it was breaking light, I went north to try a spot I found a few weeks ago on the main lake before the onslaught began. Again, it was near impossible to locate and even hold on that spot so after an hour I gave up and hit some brush in a cove nearby that had produced fish for me last weekend. Around 7 AM I was interrupted by Brian (Crappie24) who tried to help me and marked another spot nearby before heading out.

I decided to stay where I was as I could see the drunks waking up and hitting the main lake making waves and I was catching fish. It wasn’t as good as last weekend but ended up one shy of my overs when the minnows ran out and had kept a few unders as they had eaten their hooks earlier. As my gas gauge doesn’t work, and not being sure how much I had consumed last weekend and the past night, I hit the Findlay Marina for gas just in case as I had really consumed the power in my batteries. It was a zoo what with people pulling into refuel and then leaving their watercraft there while they did whatever. I finally got gas and decided against more minnows (a first) and headed back to Wolf. What a ride as the wake(s) from everyone was hard on me. Had water in my face most of the trip back.

Final Catch

Then it was dealing with idiots at the high water ramp. There are way too many idiots and self-centered people out there with watercraft. I mean what possess people to drop their boat off in the water, take up the only places you can tie your boat too while you run get your trailer, AND THEN start loading their boats! They should have loaded their boats long before putting them in the water. And then this one “family” waits on three additional trips for gear while the one guy holds it against the middle of the dock so no one can tie up behind or in front of him. And on the other side, after 20 minutes or more, they finally decide to leave and he doesn’t even turn around and almost plows into me!!!

After waiting nearly 30 minutes I tie up ALL the way to the front of the dock, grab my trailer and try then to get the boat on it. With no help and battling the others, I get it loaded and pull out to tie it down only to discover my one bottom board on the trailer had broke and was only holding on by its carpet. Pulled it the rest of the way off, wrapped the carpet around the trailer and went on to Leprechaun Landing where I store it. That’s when I discovered one of my borrowed jugs must have flown out of the boat as I battled the wake. Not a great way to end the last 20 hours but at least I was alive, had fish and time to rehydrate on the way home. In fact, I finished three 12 ounce Coke Zero’s and three Gatorade’s before I made it home and didn’t even have to stop to pee. Wow!

2015-06-12T19:57:00.000-05:00

Nuff Said

By Bob Zettler

June 12, 2015

Approximately 20 years ago, and after my last marriage ended, I made good on a promise to my children to bring home a new addition. That weekend we traveled over to Beardstown to look at some “Illinois River” Yellow Lab puppies and their owners had them out on the front lawn for us to get acquainted with. They were all a darker shade of Yellow but one stood out for me due to his nature and the size of his paws. Within minutes, we all agreed that he was the one and the deal was made to bring “JJ” home.

Now some people thought we named him JJ as that is the name of a very, very good friend of mine here in Sangamon County. However, as my children each has a “J” in their names (Joy for my daughter and Jon for my son), we agreed that was an appropriate amalgam of their names and it stuck.

JJ joined Barney, a Brittany who was well over a decade old in our family on Greencastle. Barney wasn’t much interested in playing any more but he accepted JJ into the fold and they eventually became good buddies as both loved to pheasant hunt. JJ was one smart cookie and with no training did what was expected of him in the field and the marsh. They enjoyed their company even as Barney was losing his vision and hearing. I can still recall that last hunt with the two of them where Barney got down into a drainage ditch over by Champaign County and we lost him for awhile for he couldn’t hear us or figure out where we had left each other. He was retired after that since he was pushing 16…

Barney passed away at the Vet’s the next year but my children were able to say their goodbyes. He was a damn good bird dog! By now my daughter lived with me full-time and my son was fluctuating between his Mother’s home and mine. During a rough period, he convinced me that he NEEDED his own dog and the search was on. This time it led us just up the road from where we use to live and Missy joined our family. That is correct, we added a female much to my surprise and initial resistance but she and JJ hit it off and wouldn’t you know it, BOTH of them were a Foxfire Lab which is a much darker, redder hue.

Now JJ was one smart dog. Maybe smarter than me at times and that first year the two of them went with me to North Dakota where we had a blast hunting upland and waterfowl. Missy was an independent cuss but she and JJ sure made a great couple. Then, it happened. I was working upstairs one night when I heard one of them start yelping and I ran downstairs to see what had happened only to find the two of them standing side-by-side and JJ looking at me with a look of desperation. And that’s when I noticed they were not only butt to butt but also ATTACHED by his you-know-what!!!

Now I had only read about this and thought he was in pain for she had to have locked onto him by accident so I grabbed the hose and turned it on them and within a minute they were separated. Hallelujah! “Bad JJ. Bad JJ”, I said as I escorted them inside for me to watch over them. Now what? I had to go to work in the morning, so how could I protect Missy from JJ? I decided I would place her in the metal kennel cage inside so no other sex-fiend could have his way with her, including JJ. Went on to work that morning and came home around 5:15 to discover one of the panes in the front picture window was broken out! Burglar I thought to myself and rushed inside to hopefully catch the perpetrator in the act. Nope, no burglar and no Missy either and that’s when I spotted her outside in the backyard lying next to JJ smoking a cigarette! You have to be kidding me, I mean this dog tried to dig her way through the tray in the metal kennel cage only to give up and bend the door enough to allow her to squeeze through the gap, then broke through that front window only to be confronted with a four-foot high Hurricane fence that she climbed over, then set herself upon poor, defenseless JJ with her wanton female ways and then 30 minutes later was smoking a cigarette with the big boy…Oh My!

I just couldn’t believe it as I had no experience with a female dog – and my family has had canine members since the day I was born – and now I was faced with the possibility of dealing with a pregnant dog! And times were tough back then, I mean real tough. After a few weeks, there was no doubt that she was expecting and now I had to deal with a new reality. Did a lot of research and bought a Children’s plastic wading pool for her to take care of them, along with heat lamps, and all the rest to ensure nothing goes wrong.

Then came that Sunday night where we knew it was close and as my kids and I were talking with Missy lying next to me on the couch, I felt a wet sensation against my thigh (I was wearing shorts) and saw a puppy in its sack coming out. “Jumping Jesus”, I yelled and ran off to get the box of rubber gloves so I could assist but by the time I got back, Missy had eaten the sack, licked up its contents and was preening puppy number one! My children, my Ex-wife and I stood there and watched the miracle of life pop out one at time…actually, 11 times we witnessed this after we had moved Missy and her first-born to the pool. Wow. Just Wow.

We placed a different colored piece of yarn around each puppy’s neck so we could identify them and for the next few weeks Missy was the model Mother. And since it was now December, we moved the whole show to the basement where this entourage took over, pooping and peeing. And when it came time to begin whelping them, I was the “bestest” adjunct Mother and prepared them a gruel of Purina Puppy Chow, Calves liver and Goat’s milk. And did they grow…

We gave them all names that somewhat corresponded to their looks. There was Fluffy, Big Mama, Lil Bit, Star, Chunk and then there was Spot. Why Spot? Well it was because he had a small patch of black fur on his right hindquarter, sort of a birthmark. And Chuck was named that for when he popped out I had said, “Look at that Chunk!” Lil Bit was the smallest and Big Mama was..big and a female!

By late winter we moved them outside to a fenced in backyard and that’s where trouble happened. One day I came home and poor Lil Bit’s muzzle had been crushed by one of her parents. It was horrible and we had to put her down. Broke our hearts as she was simply so lovable.

Not knowing what had happened we were at a loss on what to do and by now Missy REALLY wanted out! The puppies were driving her nuts and she began to either climb the fence to get away, or when we kept her inside, she would break that same window pane out to roam the neighborhood. And then it happened. I came home and Spot had been “gloved.” What that means is the skin had been peeled back and down away from his lower muzzle and throat with it just hanging there while he wagged his tail at me. The only thing we ever conjectured was that most likely his Dad or Mother had snapped at him and got their teeth caught in his lip and when Spot tried to get loose, he got gloved. It was another horrible sight but when we got him to the Vet, they felt they could fix it. He was home a few days later but ended up having two more surgeries for the skin to take and he became our $1,000 dog. Lovable, smart but expensive!

Then, the unthinkable happened. I came home one day and there was Missy lying in the driveway with multiple major injuries that she could not recover from. You see, she could not take being around those puppies and literally kept breaking out that window that I just put a board in it which she would then push aside to roam the neighborhood. The kids and I loaded her and JJ up for her last trip to the Vet and JJ and I lay next to her as she left us…nuff said.

It had already been decided from the get-go that Chunk would stay and be our new canine family member and we were able to place the other puppies with one going to a co-worker, another going to a young man whose Father and I hunted together, one going to my Niece in the Joliet area, another one to a friend in California and three to people in Ohio. That left Chunk, Star and Spot. Now Star was suppose to have been sent to a woman in Oklahoma but that fell through. And we had decided to keep Spot but he was an Alpha Male and conflicts arose daily between him and Chunk, and even JJ to a lesser extent. So, much to our dismay we decided to find Spot a good home and the search was on.

And we loved Spot, especially my son loved him. And Spot was unique too, for besides his lopsided face from the $1,000+ worth of surgeries he had that birthmark which had grown and I swear it looked like the state of Illinois! Sure, it had annexed parts of Indiana but if you look at the pictures, you will see what I mean. Pretty soon I had a line on a family in northern Illinois who lived on a farm and had children. The whole family drove with me to meet them in Pontiac and they fell in love. So Spot went to his new home and we were left with JJ, Chunk and Star.

JJ and Chunk loved to hunt and traveled with me to North Dakota until JJ was diagnosed with diabetes. One day I noticed him walk into something and that is what I saw the clouds in his eyes. Got him to the Vet where he was put on insulin – shots twice daily – and in all too short a time he lost his vision for good. We had to childproof the house and yard so he wouldn’t get hurt and made him comfortable until my birthday where he was outside doing his business and his leg simply gave way and broke. Turned out he had bone cancer too and that was the first time I had ever seen that old boy scared. It broke my heart that day when we had to take him and say goodbye…nuff said.

That left Chunk and Star at home with us. We would occasionally hear about the other puppies and were saddened to learn that several were eventually diagnosed with diabetes and they too left us. Now I had never had Chunk fixed, for it was our desire to keep JJ’s line going through Chunk and then another mate, but when it was discovered that diabetes ran in this bloodline…we just couldn’t go through that anymore nor put another canine member through it. Then Chunk developed diabetes but at least we caught it before the vision failed and fought it for nearly two years before we had to decide. Those last few weeks or months were so difficult for Chunk was loved by all. He was so laid back and the staff at Chatham Veterinary Clinic doted on him when I would bring him in to see Dr. Boyce. My son and I must have started that last journey four times before it just had to be done. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house…nuff said.

That left Star and me without a hunting partner for the first time in 15 or so years as she had never been hunted for she and Chunk just played too much and she did not appear to have the instincts of her Father and Brother. However, I decided to try her out when I went to North Dakota the next time. What’s the worst that could happen?

And you know what, that first day she was fantastic and retrieved birds and stayed close to boot. Then came the next day where I had to leave her in the Van while we hunted sandhill cranes. When we came back a couple hours later, I discovered she had tried to eat her way out of the van and my door and the ceiling were in shreds! I could have killed her but she was my son’s dog and I borrowed a kennel from my friend the next day to keep her and my van safe. Right. Came back a couple hours later and she had eaten her way through the kennel and tried to eat her way out of the passenger door this time. Came this close to ending her life again but didn’t for the aforementioned reasons. And we had to understand, that Star had NEVER been alone EVER since she was born. She and Chunk had been like two peas in a pod since day one and I should have anticipated trouble for on the very first day she had been left alone at home after we lost Chunk, she knocked over an eight month old 52” LCD Sharp TV smashing the screen! That was the first time I almost killed her, so we worked around her the rest of the trip and limped home a day early…

Then, Star too developed diabetes and we began the painful process of losing her over the course of the next 18 months. And that trip to the Vet was the most difficult for it was the end of the line for our family for what JJ had brought into it some 18 years earlier. We had her, along with her parents and Chunk cremated, so they could all be together and with us. And even though she did so much damage, she was loved by us all and is still missed. Nuff said…

Now that was nearly two years ago and some 13 years after they were brought into this world at our former home on Greencastle and today I received word from his family that Spot too will join them. They are heartbroken as he was such an important part of their family and even to their grandchildren. So I relive the losses we have endured over the years beginning with JJ, followed by Lil Bit, Missy, Chunk, Star and now Spot. It is truly an end of an era as these dogs have touched so many people from here in west-central Illinois, to east-central Illinois and Northern Illinois, and to California, North Dakota and Ohio. There is no telling how many people they have touched with their unconditional love for us and our love for them. Thank you JJ and Missy for bringing them into our lives and for all the joys they have shared with us.

God’s speed Spot…nuff said.

2015-05-18T19:42:00.001-05:00

(The following was actually a forum post made by me on January 1, 1998 on several Internet forums as I thanked people and updated all on our blessing!)

Lost Dogs – Conclusion

January 1, 1998

By Bob Zettler

After 10 days and over 1,500 miles of searching a small section of Illinois (Fayette, Bond and Marion County) by my two children and me, Barney (the Brittany) and "JJ" (the Yellow Lab) are home and safe! Barney, the 14-year old Brittany, was recovered on Monday night east of Vandalia, IL, which is 10 miles north of where they disappeared and 80 miles from our home - but in the same general direction.

Barney is 10 or more pounds lighter and a little slower but a lot happier. He was found by a young couple who live south of Bluff City, just a few miles east of Vandalia, on Sunday. He didn't have a name tag, just his Sangamon County rabies tag, but Truman Rhodes and his wife (who is expecting) took him in and contacted the shelter on Monday when they opened. The Ramsey Veterinarian Clinic was so excited that they wanted to call me too but left that honor up to Mr. Rhodes. I drove down that night to be reunited with Barney and found him absolutely exhausted and scared from his nine days of being lost. He even slept in the car coming home that night, which is something he never does.

As I felt that Barney was coming home finally, I printed up an additional 100 or so flyers with the new information on it and proceeded to place them in mail boxes and under business doors for over four hours that night. This included Pittsburg, Shobonier, Bluff City and Vandalia - a total of 120 miles of country roads and over 200 flyers. I was encouraged too by a phone call that night from a lady on the Marion and Fayette County border that had seen both dogs for several days - LAST WEEK - on her farm. She thought they had been the neighbors and had run them off. This was eight miles east of where they had disappeared, 10 miles south of where they were eventually found, and ACROSS the Kaskaskia River. With all this new information and even though it was still snowing, finding Barney provided renewed energy and hope which enabled me to search that night until after 1 AM.

We returned home and went right to bed. I was on cloud nine yesterday morning and called the primary agencies which had been assisting me to give them the good news. I also called others in the new area to inform them of our plight. I went home at Noon to check on Barney and had three messages from a lady near where they had disappeared from. The first stated that she had seen them that morning on her property. The second and third was to update me on the fact she had followed them and discovered they were her neighbors dogs. I called her and found out that she is an elderly woman who lives alone and had a heart attack last year. Here it is snowing out with treacherous road conditions (especially in the country) and this kind person gets in her car and tracks down several dogs matching my descriptions. Needless to say, I was so humbled by her kindness and compassion and we talked for over 20 minutes. It appears that my attempts with flyers, personal encounters and the like were paying off - in more ways than just finding the family dogs.

As I hung up from our call and was on my way out the door to return to work - remember, I have to also work for a living - when I had another telephone call. This one sounded bad. A man started out by asking me if I had lost a dog with a Sangamon County Rabies tag number ###### and I thought he was from the highway department with news they had found "JJ's" body. IT WASN'T! It was a young man whose family had discovered him in their front yard Monday night and thought he was the neighbor's dog. However, he was still there when they got up Tuesday morning and that is when they checked his tag. Again, he didn't have his ID tag but he had a Sangamon County Rabies tag. They called the Sangamon County Health Department who gave him my name and telephone number. They then called me at work to let me know.

When he said that "JJ" was safe and alive I absolutely lost it. I could barely talk with them and had to put the telephone down several times. Between the sobs of joy, relief and happiness, I was able to thank them and get their telephone number before running back to work. I hadn't driven two blocks when I realized that I didn't even have their names and feared I might not have copied down their telephone number correctly, so I called them from the cellular and discovered that the Chuck Tinker's of Bluff City had found him. I continued to lose it all the way to work and then began the process of sharing my joy with others.

As I remain a slight pessimist, I wasn't going to believe it till "JJ" was in my arms and we were all back together at home. So, even though they weren't going to be home from 6 PM till 8 PM, I left right after work to drive the 80 miles through the tail end of our most recent snow storm. I still made it in record time and called the Tinker's early, on the off-chance they might be back home already. They were and hadn't even gone out due to the weather that night. I asked for directions and the son (Chuck Jr.), said his Father would bring him to me in Bluff City and that "JJ" was just finishing a pork chop bone and that they would be there in 10 or so minutes. The wait was excruciating and when he pulled up, I jumped out of the van to see "JJ" standing in the back of the truck under the topper. He was so skinny and exhausted. He was in a daze and could just manage a slight tail wagging. These good people wouldn't consider a reward no matter what I tried to do and just simply asked me to return the favor to someone someday. What great people.

I carried "JJ" to the van and after thanking them all, I drove off and bought him four Hardee's deluxe hamburgers (plain) and fed him small bites as we left for home and my children. As they were with their Mother, I hoped to bring them by their Mother's home but she said they were already in bed when I called from just outside Springfield. However, both Andrea and Jon got on the telephone and joined in our family reunion. My daughter was in tears and they both talked to "JJ" while I tried to keep it on the road. It was still blowing snow and it’s really difficult to drive with a formerly 90 pound dog (now 75 or less) that is lying across your lap and also hold onto the telephone and steering wheel! They will see them both tonight.

Anyway, we got home just after 9 PM and it was the first time I had seen "JJ" really perk up and even wag his tail as he walked into the garage but that was nothing compared to how both dogs reacted when they were reunited in the kitchen. Between the counter clearing sweeps of "JJ's" tail and the mutual kisses between Barney and "JJ", it was enough to make even the coldest of hearts melt. I was almost jealous! However, I believe they knew that I hadn't given up on them - ever - and were so very happy to be home and together that their exhaustion, shock, fear and hunger was forgotten in a tail-wag and a wet kiss.

They had been lost for 10 days in country completely unfamiliar to them. They faced hunger, no shelter, coyotes, vehicles and highway traffic, the weather (rain, freezing temperatures, snow and wind), and the fear that their family had abandoned them - and not only survived but were finally home with their loved ones.

I watched as "JJ" drank what seemed a gallon of water and then they had to go outside and reclaim their home territory. They were greeted by the neighbor dogs and "JJ" even began to bark at intruders this morning. They both slept with me last night and "JJ" kept slipping off to lie next to Barney and then would jump into bed with me whenever I rolled over to check on him. It will be complete tonight when I have my children and we usher in the New Year together, as a family again.

So many people contacted me directly with kindness, compassion, suggestions and even offerings of assistance over the last 10 days that I am trying to make sure everyone learns of our deep and sincere appreciation. I wish there was some way that I could not only personally thank each and every one who helped my family and me during the last 10 days but also share the joy that my family and I have found as this year comes to a close and a new one begins. Words, pictures and even stories can never do justice to all the goodness that has come out of our experiences of the last 10 days.

You need to know, that I will "walk the walk", as I "talk the talk" from taking all the above kindnesses and returning as much as I can to anyone or any animal I can in the days left ahead of me on this earth. I encourage each and every one to do the same and from my heart to yours, thank you so very much!

Please have a safe, happy and productive new year with your family and friends! Also, please keep in touch and don't be surprised to find something good happening in your future, even when times seem impossible. Never, ever give up hope and do whatever it takes to do what's right.

Gobs bless each of you!

Bob, Andrea, Jon, Barney and "JJ" Zettler
Springfield, Illinois

2015-05-18T19:37:00.001-05:00

(The following was actually a forum post made by me in late 1997 on several Internet forums as I searched for my missing dogs.)

What would you do and how would you feel??

December 23, 1997

By Bob Zettler

This Saturday, December 20, I lost my two family member dogs at the Carlyle Lake WMA, just outside of Pittsburg and Vandalia, Illinois (Fayette County). No, that might not be true. Actually, both of them might have been stolen and that's part of my dilemma and problem.

Let's retrace the events. I had taken a new friend duck hunting that morning out of Parking Lot #1 at the Carlyle Lake walk-in flooded impoundments. We had met over the Net in a forum just like this. We had decided to introduce him to the ducks at Carlyle for the first time and then catch pheasants at the Shelbyville WMA on our return trip to Springfield (IL). I have two dogs but they are part and parcel members of our family. There is Barney, a 14-year old Brittany (liver and white) that I inherited from my Father in 1990 when he died. Barney is an excellent bird-dog and loves to chase quail and pheasant.

However, he has lost most of his hearing and is not as energetic as he used to be. He is the last remnant for my 12 year old daughter from my family – her Mother and I divorced just after my Father passed away. He is stockier than a regular Brittany and has two scars above his eyes from some minor surgery five years ago.

Then there is "JJ", a Yellow Lab. He is just 10-months old but has brought so much joy into our home. My eight year old son and he formed an immediate bond and he even cried last Thursday when "JJ" couldn't come with us in the car when I was taking them home to their Mother's. "JJ" is a very lovable dog. He can lie next to Barney and basically preen him (by licking his head) all day long. He started out sleeping with me (I live alone) until I discovered that I am now allergic to cats and dogs. However, I would occasionally bring him inside to sleep beside me - his favorite spot outside of being with my son. He has no training and I simply wanted a companion, as Barney was getting on in years. "JJ" is a darker yellow, with a liver colored nose (not black) and the same type of eyes. He has a formidable tail that will clear a coffee table and has grown to about 85 to 90 pounds already.

The two of them were inseparable when we would go out for a walk. I would always let them run without a leash and they always responded to my call-back (as long as Barney could hear me). So, when we returned from duck hunting shortly after 1 PM, I let them out of the van to run a little in the lot. They returned to each time I yelled for them to come and stay close. As the hunt was over and several of us had just met, we had a chance to chat before going on. That's when things get sticky. Remember me letting them out? Well the tailgate was unlocked and open and I was immediately nervous that someone had broken in to the van but I found both dogs in the back, still kenneled. Then there were the two trucks that came into the lot, stopped for a short while, and then slowly left back up the road.

That's where it gets hazy and when the two disappeared. We were all talking and looking out towards the fields when all of a sudden I got extremely nervous and started to call the dogs. No response. I was nervous from the trucks and not because I didn't see the dogs - that's the rub. Was it a subconscious fear? I don't know. I simply know that is what started this nightmare.

My partner, the two other hunters and I searched until well after dark. We knocked on neighbor's doors, talked to people outside, other hunters returning from the impoundments, and even the Site Ranger. He was kind enough to open the gate and drive me around the levees' in search of the two. There was nothing left to do but come home and come back again on Sunday. I left some of my clothes in the lot and urinated as frequently as I could, in order to leave my scent for them if they returned to Parking Lot 1#. I was absolutely exhausted and went to bed in my clothes before 8 PM. I returned at 3 AM with their bed from inside the house and placed it in the lot (for the scent). I then began to place signs in all the check-in boxes and driving the roads, using a search-light, and asking any hunter I ran into if they would keep an eye out. Everyone I talked to, and I mean everyone, were extremely sympathetic and supportive. They even took to spreading the word around to other hunters and local landowners. However, no one had seen them.

The Site Ranger took me on a "complete", and I do mean a complete tour and search around the site. Nothing. I continued until 6 PM last night and finally returned home.

Obviously, my two second greatest fears are that one of those two trucks lured the dogs up the road and stole them when we were looking away or that they are lost in the tangled swamp and woods surrounding the Carlyle Lake WMA. It’s been raining and quite a bit colder the last two nights. There was skim ice on the impoundments yesterday. They have never, ever done this or even wandered from home. Their biggest trek has been around our one street (a circle) subdivision. They could be let out or even get loose, run around the circle to check out things, and return home in 10 to 15 minutes. Always. Even when we have hunted some pretty rough stuff for pheasants and Barney can't hear me, he would always stop every few minutes and look for me. I would even hide and wait until he would find me. He always did.

The biggest fear I have is telling my children. Barney and "JJ" are a part of our family - a big part. This will compound the pain my daughter feels from the loss of her cat 6 weeks ago. It too disappeared from our backyard but I think that the neighbor’s dog got it. Hell, its Christmas time and my children's Christmas with me this year is on Wednesday. I can't tell them now. My thought is to tell them that they are hunting with someone and that is why they aren't in the backyard and then tell them next weekend when I have them again. This whole thing is absolutely unreal. I have not let myself feel any emotions either and it will hit me soon enough. It’s like losing a child - it’s the unknown and fear for the worst. Some of you will say, "Hey, it’s only a dog," but many of you will know and appreciate my dilemma and emotions. They are a part of our family.

The one takes medicine and "JJ" does have the chip placed inside - BUT the vet needs to know who to look for. Barney isn't worth anything to anyone but us. He is too old for retraining or even science experimentation. They would probably just put a bullet in his head, or worse. They have been very gentle and loving companions to me and have maintained spirits when spirits were low. There is a small part of me that feels absolutely to blame but I strongly try to dissuade myself from this basic insecurity and blame. I was watching them.

I even called them over to me and held onto "JJ's" collar when the trucks came into the lot. That is how I know that they were close to me until after the trucks left. I am torn between fearing for their safety and misery in being lost and the possibility that some unfeeling human animal does this sort of thing for profit or pleasure.

I have posted a reward for them and will be spending today calling the local newspaper to place an advertisement and other local agencies to be on the lookout. The DNR staff has been so very nice and considerate, I can't begin to thank them enough, but it doesn't look good. No one has seen anything and the DNR staff has been checking around this morning already. I will keep people abreast of what happens and will appreciate any and all suggestions on what to do. I can be e-mailed direct at: "zett...@aol.com"; or I can be reached at 217/529-7373. I am sorry to be so long in my post but these two mean a lot to our family and I just simply want them back. Thank you all for your understanding, attention, patience and consideration. May you and your family have a safe and happy Christmas time. I will be back at Carlyle on Christmas.

Bob Zettler

2015-04-17T08:31:00.002-05:00

How come you can only hunt eight months of the year?

By Bob Zettler

April 13, 2015

Why is turkey season so close to the end of the Conservation Order for Light Geese Season? I mean, I started chasing Canada geese and Dove on September 1 last year. Then came the Early Season for Teal. Then, thankfully, we had a short break until the regular waterfowl season started in Illinois – I no longer chase tree rats. And while I didn't get to go on the Northern Zone opener as I have for a number of years, I was able to open in the Central Zone and then head out to North Dakota for a few days starting on Halloween.

Then it was a whirlwind of waterfowl interspersed with deer (with Bronchitis a few times) until January 31 of this year. And while I wanted to open here in Illinois right away, I was able to head down to Arkansas for three days before over-nighting it back home to a hot field I got permission for just so I and my crew could get out. This was followed by combining forces with another friend’s crew in what we thought and hoped would be a massacre of Snow geese but turned out to be a bust – through no fault of anyone as we really saw thousands and had one Hell of a spread.

And then came March. Ah, March, where we established a home base and hunted nearly every day from March 8-28 and harvested nearly 200 birds! Mercifully, I got a break for two weekends and began the process of returning my home and Jeep to a more normal environment. Yet, I had great plans to be ready for Turkey Season by last Friday. You know, get my gear together, shotguns cleaned, clothes set aside and all the rest. I mean I even had lists of what I needed done and was sure it was achievable…

So I don’t get anything done Saturday and then sleep in an extra two hours yesterday against my better judgment – I knew I had to be in bed no later than 9:30–10 PM that night – and I still hadn’t gotten much done except putting a GTH bag together with my camo the week before. First things first and I decide to clean my Beretta Xtrema 2 and its backup gun, the Remington VersaMax. Good God! That Beretta was filthy!! Snow geese can take a toll…

Well, that took me nearly three hours just to clean the two, all the while I was using my Bradley Smoker on a Pork Roast and some chicken parts, and it’s now 6 PM. My, how time flies! But I know my turkey gear is in two containers upstairs and that’s where it really starts to unravel – I can only find the one container! And as I go through it and pull last year’s Morels out my turkey vests pockets, I realize I only have 4 Turkey loads, no mouth-calls, cant find my turkey choke tubes, no gloves and where the Hell is my sling for the Beretta! I mean that sling, along with two others have been sitting by my couch and the front door for weeks and now, of all times, they ALL disappear?

And, it’s now nearly 9 PM and I am beat and the smoke from the smoker is killing me while making the whole house smell like the Bradley Smoker. Got to make a decision(s):

· Will four shotshells (hopefully LEAD turkey loads) be enough?

· Do I really need camo gloves?

· Can I find my sling in the Jeep?

· Where are my camo shirts?

· Can I do it with no mouthcalls? In other words, since I haven’t practiced since last spring, will the few unbroken friction calls in my turkey vest be sufficient?

· Etc…

It’s well after 9 PM and I am beat and not feeling well, so I head to bed but there is a movie on Cable that I've seen a couple of times and still I get caught up in it till almost 10:30 before turning it off. Then comes the tossing and turning. Whether from the smoked meats I just finished or my routine sleeplessness, I can’t say, but I bet I didn't sleep but a couple of hours and basically am up by 3:00 AM. Get on-line for a bit, put clothes into the dryer, play Yahtzee, shower (I was rank) and then realize I hadn't even thought about lace-up hunting boots until now! I usually wear my Muck Boots most of the time but not for Turkey Season. Find a pair and then realize the one boot’s shoelace was broken and said the Hell with it too and just short-tied that one. Que Sera. Que Sera.

It’s now after 4:30 AM and I have at least an hour drive to where I hunt, but as I hadn't thought about food last night, decide to chance McDonald's for a Breakfast McMuffin only to discover the Chatham McDonald's continues to be the worst morning operation I have ever, ever dealt with. Am told it will be maybe five minutes and here I am the only person in line. Tell them to forget my order and head on down the road. Start thinking – a dangerous past-time so early in the morning for me – and decide to get something at the Casey’s in Pleasant Plaines. Wow, they have breakfast Pizza; hot and ready AND the oversize piece is still there! Saints be praised as I am the only customer in the place at 5 AM but then I get to the counter…

There are two clerks, one is in the “office” writing on something and the other has decided to count every freaking last thing in her cash drawer just as I get to the counter! WTH!!! So here I stand, watching her count, and count, and count again for FIVE minutes before she finishes and uses the OTHER REGISTER to check me out! WTH!!!

I can still be at the farm before shooting time, even though I had wanted to be there 45 minutes earlier, but the missing gear I couldn't find last night was really working me over, so I decide to hit the Wal-Mart in Beardstown to see about some gloves, Turkey loads and maybe a mouthcall or two. Thankfully, it was an in and out in maybe 5 minutes but I did get tickled by the cashier asking me if I needed to show my FOID for the Winchester XX 3.5” #5 shotshells or not…

Then I get to the bridge over the Illinois River. WTH it’s under construction!!! There goes another 8 minutes as the light changed just as I got there. Finally, I cross the bridge and make it to my parking spot at the farm but right after legal shooting time. Thankfully, there are no other hunters and I am once again on my own – a BIG thank you to the landowner! All I had to do is get my vest on, uncase my shotgun and clip my Contour Roam 2 video camera on it but not before stripping down for I realize I do not need my thermal UnderArmour as it’s 64 degrees already. And more importantly, I am already hearing Gobblers sound off across the road where I hunt and there are at least 4 or 5 close by with more at the other end of the farm. Life is (NOW) good!

However, as I had thrown out my right knee on the first day of hunting Snow geese in March, a long hike will not be fun and most of the birds were sounding off way at the other end. At least there were four in the top third of the farm but I also have to cross an open field and it’s pushing sunrise soon. Thankfully, it was overcast and I was able to cross to the edge of the woods and the birds were still sounding off just a couple of hundred yards or less away. However, as I brought decoys (spit) and wasn't sure if the Gobblers were about to enter the field or were going to hold in the woods, I decided to set up on this finger of trees that sticks out into the field and place the decoys out in the open in front of me.

Get the Jake and Hen set and find a nice tree to sit up against quickly as they were closer than I thought. Place the over video camera, a Sony Action Cam, on my head and hit the record button only to have it shut off a few seconds later. Try again and same result. Take it out of the case and discover the battery had run out. WTH! I guess it will be left up to the gun video if I even get the opportunity…

Then, I break out the box call and get an instant response times three! Wait awhile and same thing happens. Now I am worried that the decoys are too close in front of me as if the birds come, I won’t be able to use the box call and the new mouth call (which resided within my mouth) was untested. Back and forth I go about getting up and possibly getting busted or just sit where I am and hope they focus on the decoys and pay no attention to the lump pointing a shotgun at them up against a tree…

Too late and two of them pop out into the field more than hundred yards away and about 10 feet into the field and go crazy gobbling at me! Video is on and they don’t leave their spot! I mean they gobbled several times a minute, strutted somewhat and kept looking in my direction but nada. Zip. They simply would not get any closer and eventually went back into the woods. Once I knew they were staying down there and maybe a little further down, I decided to abandon the decoys and get closer. Made it half way there and the woods were pretty thick so I sat on the field edge. Nothing near as they responded but simply wouldn't come closer. And by 7:30 AM, they all went quiet but not before sounding off deeper into the woods and back towards a pond where I had heard their other buddies earlier.

What to do, what to do? I really did not want to go really deep into the woods and I had finally heard a hen with them; and if they were with hens, it would be difficult to pull them away. My knee truly was hurting and I would hate to have it go out back to where I thought they were headed. Ah, screw it and I decided to head back towards the pond as it offered a great area where several tracts of woods, fields, and the like converged in what historically has produced a lot of turkeys over the years. Well, I get back there and the winds pick up. Whoa, what’s that? Is it a leucistic turkey? A coyote? Nope, just a damn opossum. God, I hate opossums’ but I let it pass unharmed.

Then, I hear a gobble around 9:20 but cannot tell which direction. There’s another one! But again, what direction? Now am I hearing something I want to hear or am I hearing birds sound off back towards where I had last heard them AND farther away toward the far end of the farm? Can’t say but I have walked as far downhill and away from my Jeep than I had planned on and decide to head back towards the area I had last heard them as maybe the hens have moved on…

God, I hate walking back and forth over the same ground but as I get to the corner of where I had last heard them, they sounded off just across the ravine I swore I would not cross! However, this time, the woods are more open and have a more gradual slope to the bottom on my side which provides me with shooting lanes to the right, left, behind me up towards the field I had started with, and more importantly, to the other side of the ravine IF they could be enticed to the edge AND down the hillside to my effective range.

What is your effective range? I like mine close, real close. I have shot most of my birds at less than 20 yards as I want them D E A D! I have gone to 30-35 yards but prefer letting them close the distance till it’s almost a given that I will crush them with my shot when I take it. And, here the distance across the ravine from where I sat to the top (I was sitting lower than the crest of the ravine) was more than 50 yards but if I can get them to travel downhill, I can close the distance to right around 30 yards or less – if I get lucky.

Break out the box call they responded to that morning and they responded once again, and responded and responded. Then I see a red head moving through the brush right at the top of the ravine. A few minutes later another but hanging back some. Video was already on and pretty soon the safety as I truly thought he was going to throw caution to the wind and actually walk DOWNHILL in response to my call! Then the SOB went to the right as if to say, “I've been to this rodeo already once this morning where you get me all worked up but go silent when I get close.” Muttering under my breath, I decide to chance using the mouthcall even though I sounded like doo-doo on it.

Both heads go up and the one starts back in my direction eventually. Then the other one who had been hanging back and had the gobble of - I don’t know what but it wasn't as impressive as the other one – starts in my direction and now I could compare the two. Both had similar beards but this one was a lot bigger in my opinion and while both were actually WALKING downhill, I made the decision to take the first one which presented a good shot IN THE OPEN which neither had…until now but just then my Cell began to loudly vibrate! Good God, please do not let the birds hear it. Thankfully it was just a message notification but it sure got to me for I could not move with both birds looking in my general direction around 50 yards away.

Damn it! He is walking downhill (I already said that) and I realize I am going to be shooting DOWNWARD at him and that presents a dilemma since it won’t expose his head and neck like I usually prefer and I still am not quite sure if I should take the other one who is also coming fast, for at least he has his head held high, not like the Big Boy who has been in stealth mode most of this morning. And I sure do not want either of them to get down into the ravine as they could then come out anywhere and not present me with a shot without re-positioning my gun.

I had basically already decided to take the stealth bird and when he had his head and neck out and up to the side, the trigger was pulled and two-ounces of number-five Winchester XX lead shot flew at him at 1300 FPS a mere 25 yards away, albeit at a downward angle. He folded like an accordion but not before flip-flopping all over the place down the ravine. I sat there a moment or two taking in the accomplishment as last year was the first in maybe 20 that I had not killed a turkey and here I had scored and it was opening day to boot! His brother flew off back to my side of the ravine (Yeah), and after I divested myself of my vest, I carefully made my way down the ravine and over to the spot I sent my payload too only to not see him! And this was the first time I had ever gone after a bird without my shotgun.

Luckily, after a couple of minutes I spied him nestled in a downfall almost 20 yards away! I knew he was dead when I shot so I had relaxed afterwards but it did give me a charge to find him. And by God he was a big one! Maybe the heaviest bird I have taken outside of the one I shot in Missouri a number of years ago. Took several pictures, tagged him and then made my way back to my gear after taking a couple of breaks along the way – did I mention he was a HEAVY bird? Got him stuffed into the vest eventually and headed back to my Jeep. Grabbed the decoys on the way back and was back on the road home shortly after 11 AM.

Still got permits but this was a challenge I had met, dealt with and accomplished but not before a lot of anguish over the past eight months, treading water and time, with some improvisation along the way. And, maybe some luck?

POSTSCRIPT. In the original video, which lasted just under 16 minutes, the one bird I did not shoot gobbled at least 34 times and the one I shot maybe a couple. The video above is just the last six minutes. Here are the stats:

23 pounds
9” beard
1.3” & 1.25” spurs

2015-03-01T02:45:00.001-06:00

Is there a cure for Cabin Fever?

By Bob Zettler

February 28, 2015

I have been climbing the walls the past three-plus weeks here at home. I started out the 2015 Conservation Season for Light Geese with a trip down to Arkansas that my friend – yes, I still have a few – John Nolan set up last fall for February 5-7. Hell, I was excited but had even wanted to head down the weekend before as the past two waterfowl seasons and been abysmal for me personally. Between health issues, freeze ups, lack of birds and no one to hunt with, I was primed!

Then it hit me, February 7^th. The first Saturday in February for most but it also was my daughter’s 30^th birthday. Man, oh, man do I feel like crap! I mean some of the hunt was free but I did pay for half of the three days…would she understand?

Call me a terrible Father but I went…

And while it was great company and times with old and new friends, the Snow geese just did not cooperate. For three days in Arkansas during what in normal times would be prime, we killed 14 the first day, four the second and 16 the third. Should have been more on the third but you know who had issues hitting birds but that’s another story for another day.

So, we came home and my daughter still talked to me but once again fate intervened and winter finally hit Illinois. And hit it with a vengeance. For all the Illinois Snow goose hunters, I don’t have to tell you how bad it’s been. Between sub-zero temperatures, to snow every freaking weekend, our February portion of the season seemed doomed. It was to the point I was ready to head back to either Arkansas or the Bootheel of Missouri if need be just to get a crack at them but even that was not an option since they too were experiencing the same, damn cold and snow!

So here it was the last weekend in February and we might have a line birds south of St. Louis but I would have to head there Saturday to scout and hopefully not only find some birds but also secure permission…sure! Then I am dealt another blow when as I was having the oil changed the Friday night before, I am shown that my front wheel bearings were out and needed to be replaced…to the tune of $1100. Looks like heading south is now out of the question...

So on Saturday, I decided to rummage around the home, cleaning and making basically more of a mess. And of course, watching the weather as the snow was once again headed our way and the forecast was for a pretty bad one this time, from southern Illinois to our neck of the woods here in west-central Illinois. Just my luck…

My attempt to clean got old pretty quick, so around 3 PM I thought I would at least head south and take in the country before the storm hit but the snowflakes were already dropping before I left the driveway wearing just sweatpants and a t-shirt. Yet, I headed south and sometime later out of the blue (and white) I was driving past a field covered in those SOB’s! As I almost run off the road on the ice and snow, I find a side road and just soak up the scene. I mean NO ONE had seen any geese to speak of for the last 10 days in my area and here I was just tooling along and there they were, THOUSANDS of them!!!

So, as I sit in my Jeep and take in the fields of SOBs as far I could see, the snow begins to fall in earnest almost obscuring the nearest farmhouse where the geese seem to be headed towards. I decide to take a chance but not before calling my hunting buddies. However, the one is headed to his girlfriend’s and the other believes these are the same stale, old birds that have been around for weeks, sticking it out through all this miserable, cold, no, frozen weather…

As I head up their drive, I can see the birds getting closer and closer to their out-buildings. Now I am pumped. As I was carrying several video cameras to loan to my daughter’s fiancé, I just hope they would allow me to at least video and that is what I asked the son when he answered the door. However, it seemed my Dark Cloud was about to part ways for a short while when he came back and said his Father had told him to tell me, “Video them? Hell, kill them all!” As luck would have it, I was carrying and (of course) had plenty of ammo!!!!

After asking the young man to pinch me (that almost ended my hunt right there) I quickly made my way to the Jeep and drove over to the out-buildings. I dragged out the whites, loaded two shotguns – hey, I always carried one with me just in case – and made my way to the first shed. As I walked over, the closest birds got up but that left a bunch on the other side of the shed. At first, I thought a good game plan would be to simply make my way alongside the one shed to where I would patiently wait for my opportunity…

By now it was nearly 4:30 and I had almost two-hours of hunting left but with my luck who knows what will happen. These truly are adult birds. Birds that have been shot at for the past eight months and have survived more seasons than some of our younger waterfowlers have been on this earth. And here I was sitting in a shed on a bucket that I had found and turned over with a plank of wood for a seat. And these, old, smart and crafty birds were feeding their way right towards me! Dark Cloud my ___!

As I had already shied some of the birds off when I made my way into the open shed, and while I have patience on occasion, when these birds got within maybe 30 yards and I could spot no dark geese of any kind in the mass in front of me, I decided to step out from my vantage point, click the safety off and commence to lay as much waste as I possibly can!

Now I had mounted the Contour Roam 2 on a new picatinny mount which held the video camera farther up my Beretta Xtrema 2 and had been concerned how it would hold up under a shotgun which could throw upwards of 11 shells in seconds but it was of no concern as I rose and pulled that trigger till I ran out of shells. Now my heart had been racing in anticipation of just this moment and I was out of breath when the shooting ceased and saw the dozen-plus birds dead or dying. Hallelujah! The drought was over but now the chase was on…

I took several steps towards them and decided to take a knee and simply take it all in. It was almost too much as I had simply headed out from home an hour earlier and now here I am having to gather up my prey. Prey that I had given up hope for during the last month. As I dispatched the wounded close by, I tried my best to chase the ones headed out and away. And while I wish I could report that I was successful in my efforts, I could make out at least five that were almost to the next road 1/5 mile away but I created piles as I worked my way around since I was afraid that I would lose track of them in the falling snow since visibility was getting worse.

All of a sudden, I realize I am maybe a couple hundred yards out in the field and the geese have not left and were actually coming back around me. What the Hell, let’s go for another round! I saw some cornstalks still standing, albeit, they were less than a foot tall, but they might just provide some additional cover. At least I was wearing snow camo and, hey, it was snowing! So I lay down in the snow and waited…

Again, it was one of those moments where you…I mean, “I” just want to soak in the experience. I mean, 90 minutes earlier I was tooling down the road trying to lessen the impact of cabin fever and the lack of opportunity for these wile birds, and now I am lying in the middle of disked cornfield in the snow with thousands of SOB’s flying around and dropping in next to me. Life can be good…

Within minutes, I had birds on three sides of me. And since I was worried about screwing the pooch and hitting a Speck or Canadian goose, I had to choose the best group of pure white birds in front of me. It was time as I could not wait any longer as the snow was increasing and I had already had one group get up en masse just as I was about to pull the trigger. Hey, I have patience but a man must know his limitations. This time the birds were a little farther but not an unreasonable distance. And when I was done, there were a dozen more either dead, dying or crippled but more were crippled and my chase was on – again.

Unfortunately, the cripples were more than I could handle and probably more than I could chase down in the harvested made it out into the snowy fields in front of me. Yet, I gathered up those I could. Piled them up and then began crisscrossing the field trying to find any stragglers. While I was not prepared for my jump shoots, and had hoped just to at least harvest a few, I was elated to bring home 18 but if the snow lets up I will be back out there in the morning to see if the cripples survived the night and make one last stab at collecting them.

My work was not done though for now I had to figure out how to drag all the birds, my shotguns (the one still did not work) and I back to the Jeep before I got stuck in my host’s yard. I took my unloaded guns back, grabbed a flashlight and something I could wipe the frost and snow from my glasses - In this case, it was a pair of men’s boxers I had in my overnight bag. A man has to do what a man has to do! Oh, and I grabbed a dog lead which I used to tie up as many of the birds as could and in this case, drag them back to the Jeep. Improvise and adapt. Improvise and adapt!

By the time I was back at the Jeep it was now dark and the snow was really coming down but at least I had my boxers to keep my glasses clear every now and then. And what a sight I was! I had ice throughout my windswept hair and looked like Jack Nicholson at the end of The Shining! I made my way to the farmer’s home after cleaning up a bit and expressed my deep gratitude for their understanding and allowing me to end the drought and give my morale a boost. Good people.

And as I made my way home on roads where even the 4WD vehicles were going just 30 MPH, I just had this smile on my face that had not been there for some time. A smile that was made possible by strangers, chance, patience and by not giving up. Dark Cloud my ___!

2014-08-25T23:08:00.000-05:00

Just call me Joe…

By Bob Zettler

August 25, 2014

PROLOGUE. Actually, many refer to me as Dark Cloud and its one of my primary monikers when it comes to writing and life in general. I was anointed with it many years ago by Sherwood Zimmerman, a co-worker and friend who I would also break bread with most Wednesday’s at his church’s supper with he and his family. He said he was just trying to get me out of the house as I was going through a nasty divorce (is there any other kind) but I still wonder if he was trying to convert me!

Anyway, it seemed I always had some sort of weird occurrence to share with them about something happening to me that shall we say wasn't a positive occurrence. As we were both a little older, we had both read Lil Abner in the comics section of the newspaper and there was one character that Sherwood said I reminded him of and that was Joe Btfsplk. According to Wikipedia:

Joe Btfsplk: The world's worst jinx, Joe Btfsplk had a perpetually dark rain cloud over his head. Instantaneous bad luck befell anyone unfortunate enough to be in his vicinity. Though well-meaning and friendly, his reputation inevitably precedes him — so Joe is a very lonely little man. He has an apparently unpronounceable name, but creator Al Capp "pronounced" Btfsplk by simply blowing a "raspberry," or Bronx cheer.[14] Joe's personal storm cloud became one of the most iconic images in the strip.

So my friends and readers, that is how I became “Dark Cloud!”

Sure, I have been called other names, many which can’t even appear in my Blog, Bob’s Bitchings: A Dark Cloud Series, but this one stuck as well as the Old Waterfowler Whore. That one will have to wait for another time. Now that I have set the tone, let me recap recent events that ended yesterday, Sunday, August 24, 2014.

The weekend started out somewhat different as I wasn't going fishing for a change. Not due to weather but basically I hadn't felt well for a week now and wasn't sure if it was my tooth abscess or something else. So Saturday I stayed in bed late and then piddled around the house. By late afternoon I felt better and decided I would try and head to the Lake late so I could scout for geese in the morning for my friends and me as we planned on hunting them on Monday, September 1! Still, I took another nap and woke up just in time to get my gear together and head out the door a little after 9 PM. Fueled the Jeep up and got some food in Taylorville on the way for a late supper and then breakfast in the morning as I planned on quitting around Noon due to the forecast of extreme heat and humidity.

While its only 70 miles to where I can get bait late, it can take upwards of 90-100 minutes to get there, so I pushed it shall we say and arrived at 10:45 PM. Lucky for me as they closed early at 10:50 PM! Placed the minnow cooler safely in the front seat so it wouldn't spill and picked up my boat at Leprechaun Landing before heading to the Wolf Creek ramp. And since I had washed my boat, motor and trailer the Sunday before, I decided to take my time reorganizing my equipment and getting the poles ready for action! That involves making sure they aren't tangled up together and that the ones I use with a slip bobber, in fact have a slip bobber. As none of them did due to the weekend before, that took some time and I didn't make it onto the water until 1 AM.

As it was pitch black out except for the dozen or so boats equipped with bright lights for bow-fishing, I took my time traveling north to the Findlay Marina where I would spend the night. Man those lights are bright and found myself getting blinded every now and then which led me on one occasion going in circles even though I primarily use my GPS to navigate by. Still, I look up from my GPS most of the time to look for other boats and to get my bearings but it’s my GPS that gets me where I am going in the dark. Sure I have searchlights and I was using them only to discover that the one was going bad – just charged it too. I even wear a very bright headlamp and another handheld light both with CREE LED bulbs but both were going dim even though I had charged them the week before. I guess since I had been using the CREE headlamp for the previous two hours getting the boat and my gear ready I wasn't sure how long it would last…

ACT 1. Made it to the Marina after 1:30 AM and went to fishing! Criminy it was slow, so I moved around to a at least a half a dozen spots only to end up with just a couple of small Crappie not worth keeping and small 15-pound Buffalo that I caught on my light-tackle Sam Heaton pole. Gave him back to the Lake Gods and decided I needed a drink of soda from my cup sitting on the console behind me. This is where it truly starts. Several weeks ago I noticed the plastic base to my front seat had started to crack and it had grown is size to where I knew I should have already replaced it but had been unsure of whether I had enough know-how or would I need “professional” assistance.

Well this cup was just out of reach so as I stretched back and behind me, the seat base broke – no fat joke allowed. No, it didn't throw me into the lake but I went straight down to the floor up on the bow where I used the foot-controlled trolling motor. It could have been worse so maybe my Dark Cloud had a silver lining and this thought comforted me after I moved my huge Marine Cooler up onto the bow section to use as a seat. That’s when I discovered that I could now sit it on top of the livewell which allowed me a LOT more room between my feet and the inside point of the v-shaped bow. I didn't mind losing the use of the livewell as somehow it’s hose had either broken or come loose inside the boat and I had yet to take the time to address this issue as I had taken to keeping my fish fresher by placing them immediately on ice in my cooler this past summer.

ACT 2. Spent the next several hours sitting on that cooler and only left the Marina area just before 5:30 AM so I could scout for geese – sunrise was at 6:15 AM. Cruised by my first spot and was pleasantly surprised to count 38 birds, then by a second area and counted more than 40 and then set myself to fish some underwater structure in the general area to be able to watch them all and what they did after sunrise. I don’t know about you all but I find it very difficult to “re”-find my markers on my fishfinders equipped with a GPS. Sometimes I can cruise around and around and around and hopefully find it and this was one of those times.

In cruising around and throwing out marker buoys when I thought I found what I was looking for, I accidentally ran over one and caught my trolling motor’s prop around its line. No problem, I am expert at fixing this from doing it countl…several times before so I pull it out of the water and start to unwrap the line from around and inside the prop. Another life lesson, NEVER keep your foot on the foot-pedal that turns on and off the prop! Yep, I accidentally pushed down and you can guess where my fingers were. One, two, three four….Thank God, there’s my thumb too! They were cut up but still attached, and as I wanted to see when the geese came back, I just kept sucking on the wounds and letting it drip off and into the lake hoping I would cauterize before the supply ran out…

ACT 3. Back to fishing and trying to locate and stay on that marker where just last weekend I pulled several keepers out of and a bonus 8-pound Channel Catfish. I sometimes refer to myself as a lush, for when I drink, I drink to excess but then again I pretty much do everything to excess, sometimes so that I get very focused on accomplishing what I set out to do. As such, I've been known to stay on my boat upwards of 20+ hours fishing, oblivious to the elements and time. And as this day was starting out HOT AND HUMID, I had hoped to get off the lake around Noon, another five hours away. So here I am sitting on this sturdy cooler up front and watching the fishfinder’s sonar with Down Imaging and the GPS where the markers are pictured from previous excursions, careful to avoid any of the three surviving marker buoys already out but I keep sliding over to my right. This goes on for maybe ten minutes and I finally decide to look back behind me to see if anything had shifted during the night even though I knew the heaviest items were me and the cooler and we were both up on the bow.

To my horror I see that not only is the boat flooding but it is already over the transom!!!

SPOILER ALERT! To my credit, I usually do not panic but as I stood up, I looked like Bluto, John Belushi’s character in Animal House where he jumps around just before heading into the Dean’s Office smuggling in that horse. Sorry if you haven’t seen this classic movie and this scene with the horse but it’s one of the all-time greats! And here I am on the bow of my boat jumping around in my mind on what to do! Did one of the plugs come out, as I knew I had put both in – one for the drain and the other for the livewell drain. Did I hit something that ripped open the bottom and not notice it? Will the motor start? Where do I go? Shall I beach it? Where is my life jacket – Naw, I didn't even consider that yet. And the like.

First things first, I have to see if I can stop the water from coming in and swim back to the transom where water is coming over the top to see if the plugs are still in. Criminy, they are! Now what? I better see if the motor will start as it’s now sitting deeper into the water and thankfully it does. Now what, if the boat has a ruptured hull, then there is nothing I can do as the ramp is miles away and with all this water I am not going far. And that is when I see it. Somehow a stray cable has flipped the livewell switch on and it probably happened well over an hour earlier and that means a pump that can probably move about 1600 gallons out of a boat had pushed that same water into the boat!

After more than 30 minutes of pumping!

Now I have options. I am near shallow water and shoreline so even if things go totally wrong, I should be able to motor over or in the worst case, swim over. Now I have experienced forgetting to put the boat drain plugs in my boat(s) a couple of times, so I learned from others that when this happens you leave the plugs out and motor forward as the water will drain out due to pressure and the like. Hell, no way am I pulling those plugs what with this water already in the boat as I am lucky it’s still afloat!!! So with the bilge pump running (than you Jesus), I proceed to move forward at maybe 5-8 knots and that is at half throttle! This water must weigh a ton or so (“A US liquid gallon of water weighs about 8.34 pounds”) and thankfully the bilge is running AND working!

Not wanting to leave the area, I basically start doing circles and watching to make sure no more water comes over the transom. This takes time and for the first 10 minutes I decide to stay up on the bow to bring the front down and the transom up slightly, as I feel ever inch will help. Slowly, the water begins to recede and now I decide to salvage what I can as I had a lot of “Stuff” with me: five tackle boxes; a carry-on bag with miscellaneous gear like headlamps, CREE flashlights, electric fish scale, waterproof Bluetooth speaker, earphones, spare glasses; weatherproof GPS; charging cables and charger, miscellaneous fishing gear; ThermaCell and extra patches; Ziploc bags of “stuff”; dry-sacks and bags; etc. Now all this was floating or sunk in well over a foot of water above the inside deck.

I place as much as I can on the sides of the boat and anywhere I can that will allow it to drain and dry but I am discovering the damn Ziplock bags leak! And those new items that come sealed…they aren't waterproof either. I am not mad at this point as I am simply hoping to salvage the boat for I have no idea why it didn't sink. It must have great flotation material AND I am damn glad the Bilge Pump works!!! According to the time stamps on my Cell’s camera, it took nearly an hour before the bilge had drained all it could and I could stop running the boat in circles. And as I hadn't run over my marker buoys, I decided to continue fishing. Hey, the boat is running and it’s probably better to dry the boat out in the sunshine than go home with my tail between my legs where I store the boat in a shed and where it could rot and rust.

FINALE. After awhile, I give up on this spot and head to my next brushpile and I finally score a couple of Crappie. Not really big ones but they were Crappie and a couple was good enough to keep! Hit another and do pretty good but the pleasure boaters were out in force and several took joy in flying close past me with their wake bouncing me around like week-old Mexican food. Pretty soon I look at the time and it’s already 1 PM, a good hour after I had planned on leaving, so I head towards Wolf Creek. On the way there I notice the gas tank gauge not moving and begin to wonder if it’s shorted out or did my circles run it out. Never fear, as I am now close to the ramp but then that blind obsession of mine takes over from my being a “lush of life” and I begin to think about trying that one spot past the ramp.

As I get closer to Wolf, my mind is running overtime thinking up excuses on why I “need” to try one more spot. Hey, the wind is out of the south so even if my gas runs out and my battery goes dead, I can float back! Never mind it’s well over a 100 degrees with all this humidity and I only have a couple of bottle of Gatorade left…I decide to try it out. And I am catching fish even though I can’t find the structure or hold on what I find but at least the boat is drying out more! Right, that’s my excuse and I am sticking to it.

I am glad to report I didn't run out of gas but it was…5 PM when I got off the water. And while I had drunk eight or so Gatorade’s, I didn't feel too bad from the sun, heat and humidity and NOTHING ELSE WENT WRONG! I was able to get a lot of the stuff out of the boat and into my Jeep to take home to dry and made it home without further incident. Sure, I had to slam on the brakes when that car tried to pull out in front of me and I did see spots/stars for a good ten minutes after leaving the lake but I made it home by 8 PM – 23 hours after I left it – and on one of the hottest days of the year with a limit of Crappie no less! So while I kept my Dark Cloud image intact, I still survived and while my left hand looks like it’s been through a meat-grinder and my back is killing me – probably from sitting on that ice-chest for 14 hours – I am alive and the boat is on dry ground. Then again, this next weekend is the trifecta of all time. I mean I will be fishing on Saturday or Sunday and then on Monday it will be Early Season hunting for Canada geese and then Doves on Monday afternoon. Joe says what could go wrong…

2014-08-04T19:14:00.002-05:00

It was a cool and rainy July day when…

By Bob Zettler

July 28, 2014

I am getting ahead of myself here. Anymore it seems I live for the weekends this summer. I’ve had a bad track record since last Christmas health-wise and have little vacation time available to use during the week as I had in recent years. As such, I try and cram as much as I can into the weekend. And short of hurricanes and tornados, I go fishing every weekend and have managed to since the end of the worst turkey season in decades for me personally. But I digress already.

This past weekend was no different as I looked forward to heading over to Lake Shelbyville either on Friday after work or sometime well before sunrise on Saturday. Why you ask? Simple, I had a commitment to help my friends enter the waterfowl blind draw at the Sanganois along the Illinois River on Sunday that I simply could not miss so that left me with just Saturday to fish.

I usually start getting ready on the Wednesday before and try and have everything in the Jeep and ready by Thursday evening ready to roll at 5 PM Friday, or thereabouts. That means I have to have clothes laid out, trolling motor batteries fully charged and loaded, liquid refreshments, and all other items in the Jeep so I can leave from work. As my luck would have it, I had another night on Thursday with little sleep and decided to head home at 5 PM so I could catch a couple of hours rest/sleep before heading over to the Lake. You have to understand that I have to be in Findlay before 10 PM in order to get ice and my minnow fix as no one else that I know of is open again until 5:30 the next morning. And if you know anything about me then you have heard how I can spend umpteen hours on the boat and most times fish at night and well into the next day when I go. Why you ask? Because I love to be out there!

Anyway, I had been to the doctor that afternoon and he had prescribed me some antibiotics for a reoccurring health issue and I was going to fill it that night before I got home but was just plain beat so I simply went home and to bed. Even exhausted and under the weather I still couldn't sleep, another issue I have been combating for more than a year, so I left the house shortly after 8 PM. That should allow me plenty of time to get to Findlay and get some grub on the way there for supper and breakfast. It was nice to see gas lower than it had been in quite awhile so with five McChicken’s at my side I made it to Findlay well before 10 PM. Bought enough minnows for me and another person and headed to pickup my boat from storage.

I started storing it at Leprechaun Landing this summer where it saves me wear and tear on the Jeep and money on gas – I get a third less mileage with the boat attached. Now the bay I have is extremely narrow with maybe a foot or less clearance on each side so I am extremely careful getting it out and especially backing it in but this time I was there and back on the road in record time. As I had the minnow container sitting on the front seat of the Jeep, I decided to go ahead and put it in the boat so my seats wouldn't get soaked. Something I have done dozens of times before, except this time I placed it on the bow deck instead of the main deck. However, I did prop it in place with the tackle box!

I had debated where I was going to fish and put in the boat right up until I arrived and after consulting with my buddy Brian, decided to try Whitley Creek as it was just up the road and would put me closer to several good places in that east arm and the Findlay Marina area where I planned to spend my night. I hadn't been there in a couple of years and never in the dark and after making it to the parking area where all I saw were raccoons staring at me from all over and discovering they had absolutely no lights, I decided it wasn't wise to leave my Jeep and trailer in a parking area (off the track), so I turned around and headed over to Bo Woods. For some reason I stopped at the main road to check something and to my horror saw that the eight dozen minnows were gasping for air all over the front of my boat! That damn bumpy road had thrown my tackle box and minnow cooler over and there was maybe two-dozen minnows alive in just two-inches of water.

Jumping into the boat I began scooping ALL the minnows up and putting them back into the cooler – this took some time as they were ALL OVER the place! Now I have nearly eight-dozen minnows floating and swimming in those same two-inches of water. I knew I needed water and right now, so I headed towards Bo in the hopes that maybe that gas station on the way sold minnows or I would stop along the lake and grab some lake water. My biggest concern was even if I got water, would the different temperature of whatever water I obtained kill off any survivors? I mean the ones that had lain dormant on the floor could still rebound but what will new water do to them…

Thankfully, the station carried minnows (now I know I can arrive later), so I bought a dozen and they filled my cooler with water. Within minutes all but a couple dozen were swimming about so added some blue additive and it looked like I was good to go! Made it to Bo where there were just a couple of trailers and pulled up under a light as I had planned all along to work on the boat while I was there. First, I finally replaced the broken windshield with one I bought from eBay. It came with no directions but they said it had all the mounting hardware. Right! Only it didn't but I was able to use to ones from the broken screen. Always improvising! Then I had to repair some stripped out screws on my roof and redo several reels and poles. I took my time for as soon as I arrived the wind had picked up and I HATE the wind!

Finally I was done and went to put the boat into the lake. Damn wind had picked up again and it was blowing right into the ramp so as usual I attached the rope and backed the trailer into the water holding onto the rope through my driver doors open window like I have every time I put in alone. Walked the rope around the Jeep and tied it to the ramp before pulling the trailer out of the water. THUMP! You have to be kidding me! Somehow the rope had got caught on the trailer and broken leaving the boat to float off. Just minutes earlier I had decided not to turn the lights on the boat and now I feared it would float off and get hit by someone in the Stygian darkness. Threw it in park, applied the emergency and much to my relief discovered the boat was getting blown right into the ramp!!! Hallelujah!

Re-tied the rope together and secured the boat to the ramp before parking my rig in the first and closest parking spot in the lot. That way when I am exhausted the next day, I do not have a long walk! Came back to the boat, fired it up and took my time heading towards the Findlay Marina as it was pitch black out. I did stop and cruise a little through a cove or two to see what I could on my fishfinders so it took me a long time to make it to the Marina. As I did not want to wear out my batteries – I have two for the trolling motor – I found one area where there was little wind, light over the water and a place I could tie up to.

Now this summer I hadn't caught many Overs during the night except on a few occasions but tonight I did hook a couple, in addition to a bunch of 7”-9” Crappie. But around 3 AM I hooked something bigger, much bigger and it was game on. Now the area I was fishing was not very big AND there are countless steel cables hidden in the water where you have to be careful about and this Bad Boy was not about to surrender! Then Brian called. As we chatted, with the line running off the reel and me trying to keep it off any hang-ups, it happened. At about 30 minutes in on my Sam Heaton Crappie pole, the fish must have wrapped around a cable for it wouldn't move except I could detect a tug-of-war going on under the surface. I had hopes he might unwrap himself and left the line taught for awhile but about six minutes later it must have gotten cut and that was that. Still, it was exciting and I just wish I could have seen the fish as he never made it within eight-foot of the surface. Que sera. Que sera…

That was the big excitement for the evening, of course, other than the minnow cooler foaling over and the boat breaking free but as light started to break I decided to head across the water to my first spot after seeing the first boats of the day speed by to the north and to the south. Unfortunately, with a south wind I was having a bear of a time staying on a spot and even finding my markers for that matter. So I decided to try Beckett’s Cove. Amazingly, no one was there yet and it was approaching 7 AM. I decided to work my way towards where I am told there is some excellent structure and as I continued to fight that south wind, I was at least catching a few Crappie. I am about half way there and another boat comes screaming in and settles right on where I was headed just 50 yards away. Damn. He knew where he was going too and threw out marker buoys right away. As I was busy in my own efforts, I cannot tell you how well he did as I only saw one small Crappie that he landed, but he stayed there for 45 minutes or so.

As I hadn’t done as well as I hoped, I thought I would at least try No-Name Cove and whatever else I could find around there. That was a wasted hour or so as I only had one bite and nothing to show for it, so I headed back to Beckett’s and looked for underwater structure and Crappie. It was getting late in the morning and Noon was almost there but I was consistently catching a few here and there so I stayed on them. I had eaten a sandwich earlier but a Coke Zero or Gator-Aid sure sounded good! Nope, I will take a break in a minute as I am sure those Overs are just about to pop loose. This went on for a couple of hours and in hindsight I realize I should have taken that brake for it was now in the 90’s and humid! I had been without sleep for quite awhile but I just wouldn’t quit as I had heard from Brian and others that with an approaching storm they ought to start biting!

ob·ses·sion noun \äb-ˈse-shən, əb-\ : a state in which someone thinks about someone or something constantly or frequently especially in a way that is not normal

: someone or something that a person thinks about constantly or frequently

: an activity that someone is very interested in or spends a lot of time doing

Yes Folks, that’s me! I be obsessed as the weekend before I had stayed on the boat 23 straight hours and now I had been on the water around 13 but I knew the big-uns were there and just waiting to jump in the boat with me. And that rumble in the west, it’s probably just one of those cigar boats opening up on the Lake. Yeah, just keep deluding myself on that too. So here I am having been out there without liquid refreshment for hours, no lunch, shirt off in the sun since Noon and I finally notice the dark clouds building in the northwest. Got out the Cell and checked Raindar and saw a line of bad storms almost there with another line one county behind the tail end of the ones about to rain on my parade.

I didn't want to get caught up in the mess at the ramp with everyone trying to get off the Lake at once as I hoped the storms were just going to cut the north edge, so instead of deciding to weather them commando style, I went ahead and put up the roof and began putting up everything I could into dry-bags or the like. Unfortunately, just as I was almost done, the rain began and so did the lightening…

For whatever reason, as a novice when it comes to boats and boating, I decided to make my way around the corner to the Coalshaft Bridge and safety. There were already five other boats hanging out there so I felt comfortable in my decision. This is where it gets interesting as not only is it pouring down but the lightening was hitting all around – and I mean close! Pretty soon it was just one other boat and me and both of us were right next to the bridge’s piling when it happened – lightening hit the bridge right above us – “%$*@ me” I said out loud and no cared. No one even looked me as were all just thankful to be alive. Quickly putting on my lifejacket - so when I did get hit by lightening and my body thrown from the boat, I wouldn't drown at least – I watch as they decide to park it on shore and load up onto their trailer right there at the Coalshaft parking area leaving me all alone…

It wasn't over as lightening hit in the woods a 100-yards away and then the winds picked up. And they really picked up. I had kept my motor running so I could stay under the bridge but now it was all I could to stay there right up against the piling. At one point according to the NWS we had gusts of 45+MPH and the rain was coming down in torrents to the point I couldn't see the other end of the bridge. Did I mention I was all alone?

After maybe 20 minutes of this, a boat screamed by and when I saw a slight lull and lighter sky, I decided to make a run for it too. With waves crashing over the bow and whitecaps from the Perfect Storm (well, maybe not that high), I finally made it to the ramp but not before another bolt of lightning hit in the area. God’s way of reminding me of either my Dark Cloud luck or Natural Selection was around the corner…

As I plodded my way to the Jeep, praying another bolt wouldn't end my days (and nights), I discovered the front end of my Jeep had been hit! The license plate was all crunched and the new license plate holder broken in pieces. Criminy, I parked there right up front and away from the next possible rig and someone still hits me. Talk about Dark Clouds…

And someone had placed a damn advertisement on the windshield. I am so tired of these unsolicited flyers that I grabbed the soaked paper and was about to rip it up when I saw it had a note on it. You got to be kidding me, the person who hit me left me note? Well, I’ll be, he did, apologizing for his son’s action and providing me his name and phone number. Grumble, grumble. I guess I can’t complain too much as my Dark Cloud has a silver lining after all…this time! And, after all I am alive, soaked but unharmed, and I am headed home early by my standards – it was nearing 5:45 PM now. Loaded up the boat, gas it up on the way back to the storage, able to back it in the garage in under 15 minutes and headed home. Safe at last…

Not quite as it seems one of the reasons I had been having trouble sleeping and other issues was I had developed a tooth abscess and by Sunday I was really out of it. Yet, I made it to the waterfowl blind drawing and home again, complete with antibiotics to help the recovery. It has been touch and go, and I still need a new dentist, but I am alive and will hopefully get through this health obstacle soon…so I can go fishing again this weekend!

2014-07-22T23:03:00.000-05:00

If I was a turtle…

By Bob Zettler

July 14, 2014

My tale has no end, or answer and just might stir up a more than a few of you.

I was driving home from an overnight fishing trip on Sunday when in the road ahead was a turtle just about to leave the limited security of the double yellow lines running down the middle of the road. Now at first and in the distance I didn’t know it was a turtle and could have been either trash someone threw out or another dead critter, victim to a previous motorist, who either didn’t react in time, couldn’t react in time or simply didn’t care. But this was a live turtle simply going about his or her life by crossing a man made rural highway to eventually make it to its destination.

It was a fair size turtle by turtle standards (I’m no expert but it was maybe an 8” shell) and as I came upon him and his moment of crossing over into what we refer to as “MY lane” he seemed to pause with one leg up in the air as I went by mere inches away at 55 MPH. It was if he understood that his decision to continue forward or back the way it came could result in his doom. I know, that’s akin to Anthropomorphism but I have been extremely unsettled for the last week after viewing two videos on FaceBook but I digress.

My first thought was I could pull over (after I passed him) to the side of the road (there was no shoulder to speak of) and pick him up and place him safely on the other side of the road but I was reminded of the potential dire consequences of my doing so. How so? There has been several news stories recently about a woman who stopped to assist a Momma duck and her ducklings cross a road safely that led to the death of a human and now she has been convicted of “criminal negligence causing death and two counts of dangerous driving causing death.” Now I hadn’t read the stories, just the headline and a brief intro on Google News, but several people in the forums I frequent have commented she was getting what she deserved by putting the ducks well-being ahead of the potential harm her doing so could open the opportunity for someone else to make a mistake and have an accident.

The one video I saw on FaceBook I believe contained the catch phrase, “Don’t Text and Drive” or something similar, which is what caught my attention as I have been known to answer texts while driving. I was not expecting to see what I saw and am not sure what I saw as it was on my cell with no sound. I believe it showed a number of people who were involved in a traffic accident but I cannot say with any certainty how many as one object was so mangled it could have been an animal or…God only knows. What struck me was how absolutely mangled the victims were. Again, I do not know if they were in the vehicle involved, pedestrians or even from another vehicle. It was in broad daylight and the people appeared Asian on a modern road. The front of the one vehicle – there could have been another but I will never know as I quit watching the video – was missing the front end and I could not tell if there was another person still inside or if that was a baby-seat…it was that bad.

The one woman wasn’t bloody but she looked like a ragdoll with all of her extremities turned this way and that. As for the others, I won’t begin to describe as it was awful since she and one other were still alive but for how much longer is anyone’s guess. What struck me as odd was there were maybe ten or so people standing around, emergency crews must not have arrived yet, and not one of them were offering comfort or assistance to any of the victims, yet several were walking around videoing the scene…

The other video I saw was several weeks ago and for the life of me I do not know who shared it nor what so-called “news service” had it on their website. What it did show was horrendous and something most of us in America and in the other so-called civilized countries have not experienced (thankfully), nor witnessed (also thankfully).

In this video, which was actually made by one of the individuals involved with his cell phone camera, you see a number of people who are suppose to be Arabs either in Syria or Iraq. They are not in any uniforms that I can tell but their prisoners appear to be, or at least were dressed that way. There are at least four or more men with automatic rifles and they literally start spraying the live prisoners on the ground with bullets. Then, the one man takes out a knife and proceeds to begin cutting the head off one prisoner who had survived the initial bullet barrage while several of the other men with guns take out their cell phones to also video the process. You see the victim’s face and realize he is conscious as his eyes appear, even in shock from the multiple bullet wounds, to plead with his murderer and…well, I didn’t finish watching that video either.

There is part of me now that wishes I had never watched that particular video. I just cannot comprehend how any human being could act this way. I wish it would just go away like it never happened but I know it did and will probably continue in places around this world. This man who was someone’s son and maybe someone’s Father or partner, will never breathe another breath and his last moments on earth must have been indescribable.

As for the men who shot him and his fellow prisoners, with one of them taking such joy in cutting off his head while the rest videoed it, they too were someone’s sons and quite possibly a Father or husband but what kind of person could do that to another? And it wasn’t just the one person; there was a group of them involved.

Now that video had possibly been shot sometime ago but who knows or cares as it wasn’t made in Hollywood and it actually happened to a number of nameless human beings. But when I go to the news on CNN, FOX or the rest, I see no mention of this atrocity. No, I see stories about events where reporters have open access for the most part but that is the way the game is played and doesn’t concern me as much as the mentality involved that allows people to perform these acts of atrocity.

It brings me to an old fable that most everyone has heard or read. You know the one. Even though there are several variations of the parable of the Scorpion and the Turtle crossing the river but most ends with, "It has nothing to do with logic," the drowning scorpion sadly replied. "It's just my character."

This is the part that scares me, "It's just my character."

Now, I know this is a parable and the individuals who slaughtered their prisoners and videoed themselves doing it and then sharing with the world isn’t representative of any group of people but it just plum scares the Hell out of me. Throw in the people who stood around as accident victims lay helpless and most likely dying while several videoed the victims instead of offering comfort or aid and I can’t help but wonder where we are headed. I fear for my children. Hell, I fear for the children in those countries and around the world where we preach the best of intentions but many times practice something altogether different.

All these thoughts ran through my head as I continued on home leaving behind that turtle simply crossing a road. And now I fear that for me too, "It's just my character."