Times Well Spent

Spectator Fishing

2012-02-21T05:50:00.003-08:00

Well, as of yesterday I have a whole new experience of catfishing. My 10 year old son Ridge and I tagged along yesterday for some winter catfish with the Venerable Terry Madewell at an undisclosed location. It was a cool brisk day and one that will be forever burned into the memory bank for many years to come.

My son is a fairly shy boy, but a good boy in general. Yesterday, however while fishing for cats, I saw a transformation. As the rods were sitting in their holders waiting for the bite. My shy, ten year old son transformed into an obsessed fisherman watching the rods, almost glaring at the rods for the slightest of movements. When a bite was suspected, he would lunge towards the rod, seeming to foam at the mouth with obsession - on several occasions he literally pushed me out of the way go get to the rods when a suspected fish was hooked up. One particular instance found me gasping as a small elbow was thrust into my stomach taking my breath as he sped past to get to a fishing rod with a fish attached.

Mr. Madewell was no help in this matter, in fact he was encouraging the behavior thus leading my son down a narrow path of ill mannered selfish, I would dare say, possessed fishermen!

But as a Dad, riding on the boat, taking picture after picture of my Son, grinning from ear to ear as he landed fish after fish. Including the best catfish ever for the family, far surpassing my previous record. I learned that fishing is better enjoyed, as a spectator of others who have yet to feel the enticing pull of a mighty fish. It was an honor to be a part of this day, a day that I know I will never forget and I hope Ridge will never forget. When I floated along with a dear friend and watched as my son became a fisherman. Indeed, spectator fishing is not bad at all.

The Sound of it All

2012-02-08T13:45:00.000-08:00

For most Sportsmen there are sounds that resonate with them. Sounds that send chills down their spine, or renders memories of a special day afield. For me, there are three sounds that I find myself longing for. Sounds that will cause me to pause each time I hear them. Sounds that will bring a flood of emotion to my memory.

The first is the sound of a gaggle of geese soaring overhead, circling a still pond and looking for a landing spot. each time I hear them coming, I feel a smile come across my face, as if they are saying to my soul - "ready or not here I come". Many a hunt has been thwarted because I am so enamored by their calling that I forget to shoot - that is until someone else lets loose then I snap out of my stupor and send steel flying in hopes geese will fall.

The second sound that I long for is the early morning gobble of an excited tom turkey. His thundering gobble echoing through the timber is a sound like no other. Unmistakably his gobble is for all to hear - for all to know that he intends business. Watching as he walks - head turning this way and that looking for the seductive hen flirting with his emotions. Gobbling again and again - the hair on my neck stands each time I hear it - and more often than not - the reason I hunt turkeys is not to kill them, its to talk to them.

The last sound that I long for is that of a fishing reel screaming as the drag peels off at lightning speed. Many a fishing trip has been highlighted by the storm during the calm. A rod sitting patiently in its holder, suddenly thrust downward as the reel screams as line is peeled from its spool seeming to say - "get me, get me"

These sounds of nature are some of the reasons I go - why I spend hours in the woods and water. These are some of the reasons I am a Sportsman, to see, smell and yes to hear the wonder of it all, and recognize once again that the times I spend afield are always Times Well Spent.

Good Record Keeping

2012-02-04T07:25:00.002-08:00

Years ago I began keeping detailed records of all my outdoor adventures. I must admit, I am not as detailed for my fishing as I am for trapping and hunting. But I see that there is a big difference in my success when I not only keep records but when I refer to them in subsequent adventures.

Case in point. On my trap line, I keep a list of what type of set I made, bait used, lure used, and type of trap used. Its pretty simple. But what I see when looking at this, is that I am catching a most of my canines on one particular bait. And raccoon's on another type of bait. Does that mean that I switch all to that bait - maybe, I will continue to experiment with others, but it does help me when purchasing or making future baits to know what has worked in the past.

In my deer hunting records, I see that certain stands produce better in early season and others in late season. This helps me to not waste time sitting in a late season stand in the early season and to focus my attention on the correct stands. Now I must admit, my hunting records are a bit anal, but it works for me. Each stand has a wind direction chart. Telling me when I can hunt this stand. All of the stands are broken into specific directions. I have stands for North winds, south winds, east and west winds and I NEVER hunt a stand if the wind isn't right. This does two things, it gives me confidence, and increases my odds of seeing and harvesting deer. It also prevents me of educating other deer on my presence.

Some think this is extreme, but I have seen over the years that it works. And it works well.

Weather conditions, moon phase, wind direction, time of year, time of day all are important to what the success will be. Records help to see correlations between similar circumstances. Plus for me, it adds to the experience. When I can look back through my book for 10 years and see what I did under these circumstances and the success makes me a lot more confident.

I use a simple excel spreadsheet to make and keep my records. This gives me a PC backup and I have hard copies in my binders that go with me on all of my trips.

If you aren't keeping records, do so. I know of one fellow who has records of hunts going back over 75 years. His grandfather wrote down his information, then his father and now him. What a legacy to leave for our children and grandchildren.

Spring time Feral Hogs

2012-01-29T08:35:00.000-08:00

I have heard a lot of hunters lament the presence of feral hogs on their property. I for one have seen their destruction first hand. There is no arguing that they can really tear up a piece of ground. I have seen woods that look like a sub-soiler from a Caterpillar bull dozier has been through when a sounder of hogs fed through a bottom land.

But I would argue that for all of their destruction, the extra hunting opportunities at least somewhat help to hinder their destruction. I must readily admit that I really LOVE killing pigs! Hunting feral hogs is one of the more addictive things I have done in the outdoors. And when asked why I enjoy hunting them and killing them I really don't have a good answer. They are a challenge - not to the level of a trophy buck - but a challenge nonetheless. They make a fine trophy and excellent table fare. So for my money, hunting feral hogs is a great outlet for any outdoors person.

In South Carolina, where I live we are able to hunt them year around with no limits on private ground and with no weapon restrictions. This allows me to scratch the hunting itch in March, May, June and July or whenever the notion arises. I really enjoy spending early morning hours on stand in March. The cool mornings allow for a tolerable hunt with a good bit of excitement and also helps me to locate gobbling toms for the April opening of our spring turkey season. Making mental notes of roost locations, and numbers of gobbling toms helps. But when I hear the pigs coming, all planning for turkey season goes out the window. Settling the crosshairs on the shoulder of a big boar and feeling the success of a beautiful morning, brings to mind why I enjoy these Times Well Spent.

Quail Hunting on Preserves

2012-01-23T06:08:00.000-08:00

I had an opportunity a few months back to hunt some quail with some fine gentlemen at Black Brier Preserve in Cross, SC. This facility was first class, the hospitality was exceptional. William Peagler, Alan Weiss and Kevin Davis have worked to make Black Brier a great facility.

Black Brier is a shooting preserve and a hunting outfitter. Offering quality whitetail deer hunts, turkey hunts as fine wing-shooting. They use a different method of training, or developing their birds. Using what is known as "Johnnie Houses" the birds are set in these houses 30 at a time

and released daily. They are free to roam and wander. Finding their way back to the house if they choose or staying free. From my experience these birds flew better than any preserve hunts I have been on. I was thoroughly impressed with the condition and flight of these birds.

While my experience isn't extensive with hunting on preserves, I can say that Black Brier is one of the finest. Word hasn't gotten out yet, but it soon will and there will be waiting lists of hunters wandering through the woods at Black Brier.

I have always enjoyed good companionship when hunting, that's one of the things I like about preserve hunting. The conversations and the good natured ribbing being passed along for each missed shot make this type of hunting a lot of fun. Granted, if you are really into hunting wild birds, this may not be for you. But for most who enjoy fine wing-shooting and have access to limited wild birds Black Brier offers one of the finer opportunities available in our state.

To top it off - Black Brier is partnered with Blacks Camp so when you have had your fill of wing-shooting, you can end the day chasing trophy catfish, striped bass or crappie at the famous Santee-Cooper lakes.

More information on Black Brier can be found at: www.blackscamp.com or calling

(843) 753-223

Post Season Scouting

2012-01-16T06:06:00.000-08:00

After our deer season closes January 1. I really like to spend a good deal of time combing the woods. The sign is everywhere, and I don't have to worry about spooking a buck I may have my eye on. In fact I hope to spook him and lay my eyes on him. Then I know for certain he made it through the hunting season unscathed. But this time of year, with all of the leaves gone, the woods are open and its much easier to spot, trails, old scrapes and of course rubs.

For me, the best sign I can find is rubs. Lots and lots of rubs tells me there are bucks. And big rubs mean big bucks. When i find a line of rubs, then I know I am going to be hanging a stand in this area for next season. Looking for well worn trails, for late winter food sources and for rubs will increase your odds next season.

Waiting until "green up" you will miss a lot of the sign that you can only see when the woods are more barren. I also like to trim shooting lanes this time of year. With the openness of the forest, I can see just where I need to open this and that. I know I will have to come in and do some trimming later, but all of my heavy trimming is done in the winter. Chainsaws, and bush ax are employed and real pruning occurs to provide new lanes and open older ones.

Don't let this time of year get away from you. Trophy hunting is a year around activity and right now is one of the best times to be in the woods scouting and preparing for next season.

Wading for More Opportunities

2012-01-02T04:57:00.000-08:00

One of my favorite methods of fishing is by the old, often overlooked method of wading. Fly anglers wade, and a few shore anglers wade. But for the most part, this method is lost.

Anglers either fish from boats, piers, or the bank - except in certain parts of the south where they prefer to fish from bridges - but to wade is something few do.

The wade angler can access locations bank anglers cannot, they can hit smaller streams or lakes that boats become cumbersome. But to wade, is to be at one with the water. To be among the fish, to share their location all the while trying to entice them to bite.

My son and I love to wade, using basic tools, usually spinning tackle with a few tried and true lures we set out with our hip boots or waders and wander into the water. Whether its in lakes, streams, farm ponds, you name it, wading opens new possibilities and opportunities.

Personally, I use a fly fishermans vest to hold my small tackle boxes, a 6' light weight spinning rod and a good spinning reel - such as a Pfleuger President carrying 4 or 6 lb test mono. This will allow you to cover most of the opportunities you will face.

When the opportunity presents itself, put on your hip boots, or chest waders and don't be afraid to wade into the water for more opportunities.

Cold Crappie

2011-12-29T12:04:00.000-08:00

I am not the best crappie fisherman. Quite frankly I just haven't done it enough to get very proficient at it. However recently I learned a lifetime of knowledge on one trip out of Blacks Camp with Kevin Davis. Finding deep water brush piles, and dropping minnows just above these brush piles allowed us to load up the cooler with a fine stringer of slab crappie.

Some guides will say that while they get a lot of business in the spring for crappie fishing the fall and winter is perhaps the best time to catch consistently large fish. If you get a break, find some of the DNR brush piles that are in every lake and their GPS coordinates are on their website (www.dnr.sc.gov) Finding these are relatively easy and they are severely under-fished.

Anchor over them, drop a lively minnow and hang on. Nothing spells action like the crappie bite.

Kevin Davis of Blacks Camp with a fine stringer of Winter Crappie

A good week on the Trapline

2011-12-17T06:00:00.000-08:00

Trapping season opened Dec. 1 and it was a few days before I was able to get some traps out.

It seemed like when I did, I couldn't catch anything. Days went by and nothing. A raccoon here, and there. One on a Bobcat set, and one on a high ground set. Nothing in my water sets - which is frustrating. Raccoon tracks all around my sets, and no raccoon's in them yet. But I know they will come in time.

My land access for coyotes, fox and bobcats is limited this year. But I am trying to make the most of it. At one location, there was a coyote messing with me. Its like he knew there was a trap there. He would leave a paw print right in the middle of my set. Steal the bait a

nd urinate all over the whole set.

After some consideration I decided to give him the "fake set" set. I put traps back where he was stealing the bait. knowing he wouldn't step in them. But thirty feet away, I made a small dirt hole set with a trap that was set shallow, soft trip-pan tension and a s

ubtle bait. (I made it myself).

The next morning I was greeted to this.

The "fake-set" set worked again. It is a good plan when there

is a skittish coyote in the area. Make subtle sets that will get their

attention without spooking. Also, what I did was funnel him into

the set. placing the trap at about a 60 degree angle to the dirt hole.

The next day, I checked the set that was remade and caught the coyote. There was nothing in it, but when I got to my bobcat sets. Made deep in the woods, along a faint trail. I placed two sets. One big dirt-hole with a tried and true bait- and a few feet away, a set with a loud call lure.

I walked up to the set, and there was a good bobcat waiting for me.

So it was a pretty good week. I had to pull everything in this area,

and will set in new places next week. Giving this area a rest. Hopefully I can get a few more raccoon's. I know one place I will be is loaded with them So I am really going to try and hit them hard.

A good start to the season. lets hope it continues. - I am planning a trapping trip the week after Christmas - going to our property and really hit the coyotes and bobcats hard. There is a good population of coyotes, so I am hopeful I will be able to hook up a few while I'm there.

Squirrel Hunting

2011-12-13T18:14:00.000-08:00

This past weekend I went squirrel hunting. I like a lot of sportsmen cut my teeth in the outdoors chasing squirrels through the oak ridges near our homes. I for one have never outgrown the love of hunting squirrels. Unfortunately I haven't done it enough in the past years like I should.

But now I have a reason to hunt squirrels more often. My son has taken to the idea of hunting squirrels. So I have taken him a few times this year. The last time I decided that I wasn't going to take my gun, just my camera and help him really learn to hunt. Well, he still hasn't gotten one, but he is getting better and getting more patient. I know that when he does get his first squirrel it will be a moment he will always remember.

So hopefully, by next week, he will have his first squirrel in the bag. Until then.......

Trapping season Opens

2011-12-05T05:32:00.001-08:00

Dec. 1 marked the opening of Trapping season in my home state of South Carolina. That day saw me throwing steel out in as many places as I could after work. It didn't leave me with much time since it gets dark so early. But I managed to get a few out there. Saturday saw the most action when i put out 28 traps.

First check on some of these places showed why trapping is such a challenge. Bait stolen by raccoons, and perhaps the most frustrating - Paw prints on one of my coyote traps and it didn't fire! Now that's frustrating. But I re-baited and left it and we will see.

This site was a new set - I use the hip bone from a horse, and set it about fifteen feet from the wood line in a field. Placed a small amount of bait beneath the bone and some lure on the bone. Then I placed a trap on both sides of the bone in case he came in from the rear. and I added some coyote scat from another property as an additional visual.

When I get some catches - I will post on here. Focusing mostly

on Raccoon and coyote now. I do have a few bobcat sets out and a few fox as well. I am ready to see some tight chains!

Back at Last

2011-11-27T09:03:00.001-08:00

I have been absent in this arena for some time. But hopefully, now I will at least commit to regular updates and comments.

This hunting season has been feast or famine. I started off with a bang (pun intended) while walking to my first stand of the year, I shot a 300+lb wild boar. It was one bit pig let me say. My brother-in-law and I had a time getting that thing hauled to camp and cleaned. it took 3 hours just to skin the darn thing. But he sure does eat well!

I have seen a lot of deer this season, but they are all small bucks and a hoard of does. Fortunately I have been able to get 3 doe for the freezer which is good, but the bigger bucks have eluded me. Which with a month of the season left, means I better buckle down or hope they survive for next year when I know they will be sure enough wall hangers.

And if I can keep my feeders going, I should be able to hone in on some pigs. They are really a hit and miss, but with the feeder either not working due to motor malfunctions, electronics, dead batteries, or out of corn. The pigs are not regular visitors.

Now trapping season open this week and my attention will be diverted to catching coyotes, fox, bobcats and raccoon's than to hunting. More about this later.

Stay tuned - more posts to come in the coming days and weeks.

Whew its been a while

2011-07-28T07:15:00.000-07:00

Well its been a while since I last wrote on this blog.....too long infact. But here we are and its my goal to put more frequent updates.

In my state Deer season is 6 weeks away and there is still a LOT of work to do. Mowing roads and access points, hanging more stands, trimming lanes, refilling feeders, moving feeders, cutting ATV trails, etc. etc. etc. And of course we are in the middle of a very oppressive heat wave that is paralyzing the area.

A few of us (my huntin buddies) are heading down this weekend to hopefully make a big dent in the final touches before season. It's scheduled to be 99 degrees and with the heat index - pushing 110! I don't care where you live that is HOT. Whil i find the heat very oppressive and debilitating, the work done now will pay huge dividens come season. What we miss now will inveriably come back to haunt us at a critical time. For me, this is some of the best part of hunting. Scouting, finding good locations, hanging stands, putting the pieces of the puzzel together. And when it all comes together and we are able to get a deer from one of these locations, it makes all of the work worth while.

If you have some last minute things that need doing on your property, get it done and let the land rest before the start of the season.......I have always believed that by letting the land rest, and having no activity the weeks leading up to the start of season, your chances of getting a good buck increase signifiantly.

Trapping season

2011-01-11T10:47:00.001-08:00

I have to get back to writing here......time is precious so until I can here are some pictures of this year's trapping season.....More to come -

Redfish in Bulls Bay

2010-09-28T06:43:00.000-07:00

I went this past weekend to Charleston, SC to catch some Tarpon in Bulls Bay with Capt. J. R. Waits out of the Isle of Palms marina.

We haven't had any measurable rain in almost six weeks, then I plan a fishing trip and the storms of teh year arrive! But we kept fishing. I can't say enough about Capt. JR Waits and his effort to put us on a Tarpon. We struggled the first day in the storms to catch bait, but we finally got some and fished hard and landed one big Redfish and some decent sharks.

On day two the storms really hit, blowing 40+MPH and raining sideways! but we stuck it out, and did some fishing for some reds during some of the lull's of the storm. Using ultralight tackle, and Gulp! Alive bait, we caught some nice fish. It was a real blast catching them on that light tackle.

Back out in Bulls Bay, I landed my personal best redfish, weighing 26lbs! I was pumped to catch a fish like that! It made riding out those storms worthwhile to get a fish like that.

I highly recommend Capt. J. R. Waits of Fishcall charters for any fishing charter in Charleston. If you want redfish, or Tarpon this is the man. He will show you a great time, and definitely give his all.

www.fishcall.com

William Leslie: May 23, 1943 – August 27, 2010

2010-08-30T09:02:00.000-07:00

Sometimes even the expected is still unexpected.

The delivery of a child, for nine months you know it’s coming, but when your wife looks at you and says; “honey, its time.” You’re never really prepared.

Drifting bait along a sandbar for hours on end – slowly you are lulled into daydreaming. Then the bite comes. Startling you out of your stupor – yes you were fishing, but the bite was still unexpected.

Crawling to the top of the ridge, peeking over again hoping this will be the one. Ridge after ridge, valley after valley you walk, search and hoping. Then without warning, from thirty yards he steps from behind a spruce tree standing there in all his magnificence.

Following your Brittany through a CRP, watching as his tail comes to a halt, his nose to the ground......moving in the flush so close to your boot catches you off guard.

Sitting at a ball game watching your son play, caught up in the joy of his shinning moment. An email alerts you that a dear friend has passed on; unexpected

Human beings are good at avoiding the things we know we can’t change. We know all of us will leave this earth; some of us have had to face that reality too many times, and far too often. Still, while we know this reality is coming, when it happens - it is unexpected.

A few weeks ago, we all received some bad news when Bill told us his diagnosis. At the hearing of the news, we felt a hole beginning to grow in our hearts, a sadness for the unexpected. A void was being created for which we can never fully heal. And while we knew that the prognosis wasn’t good, we never expected this day to be here so soon. To some, this void in our heart is a bad thing, for us on this day, it’s a glorious thing. Because for us, the hole is filled with memories of a man we all loved deeply.

Someone once asked; “Is a legend made by the way you live your life, or the way you’re remembered after you are gone?”

I’m not sure as I write this that I know the answer to that question, but one thing I do know, is that for many people, Bill Leslie was a legend in his time, and will remain a legend long after he is gone. For me, and for all those who shared a moose camp, deer camp, sheep hunt, or whatever you were after, you saw one of the best at their craft.

In all of my years of hunting, all over this country with a lot of different people, one thing I know is that it is rare to find someone who shares your passion and approach to this fine sport. Bill and I had that connection. We didn’t talk about it much, but we both knew it. When we hunted together we didn’t have to say a lot to one another, we knew what the other was thinking, what they were seeing, and feeling. I knew that he knew what was going on. That was and remains a rarity in our sport, and in our lives.

For the men and women who hunt this Gakona valley for years to come, stories will be told. Stories about a pot bellied bald headed man who called this ole place home for over 35 years. This valley was more Bills home that his house in North Pole – here is where he felt free, where he felt alive. Sitting in this expanse of nothingness where many find seclusion, Bill found fulfillment and joy.

Most people will spend their lives searching for the peace and joy Bill found each time he rode along this track to this trailer. I saw it the first time I rode out here with him. Standing on the side of the track rig for three hours as we plodded along this path, I saw someone who loved this place with a passion seldom seen. When we crested the ridge with the valley lying below, a sigh came from his chest, and his eyes lit up like a groom seeing his bride for the first time. I didn’t know why then, but I would learn in the coming weeks we spent together why. This was his sanctuary.

It is fitting that we are spreading his ashes here, at this place, and at this time. This was his favorite place and his favorite time of year. As the seasons change, and the leaves turn vibrant colors reminding us of God’s glory and majesty; we too are changed, and our lives turn and we stand here and remember. The void we feel in our heart may not ever heal, the emptiness will linger for some of us for the rest of our lives, and that’s ok. Each time we crest this hill and stare into this valley we will remember Bill Leslie. We will honor his life, his legacy and we will know once again, that we are all better people for having known him.

Stories will remain as one generation passes onto another, laughter will be heard around the campfire as another story is told, hot links are eaten and someone shares a moment in time. That for them has become an eternal flame in their memory of Bill. Because we know, that while we expected one day to be here doing this for our friend, his lasting impact on our lives and hearts was unexpected.

So I raise a glass to my friend, Bill Leslie, may you rest in peace, and may I always remember – my dear friend, may I always remember. . . . . . . . .

The Perfect Hunting Dog

2010-08-02T11:13:00.000-07:00

I have come to a crossroads as a sportsman. It is time for me, at this stage to get a new hunting dog. Therein lays perhaps the single most important decision a sportsman can make in their career afield. This choice will impact your time afield more than just about any other we make as ourdoorsmen and women. Years of frustration or joy hinge on this decision. So I tread lightly into this verdict and take a methodical approach to the process.

I’m not certain what it takes to buy a dog, other than money. I have read the advice from the professionals who offer; first ask yourself; “What do you want your dog to do?” What kind of question is that? “What ever I train her to do.” That’s what I want her to do. And notice I said, her, because I am convinced that males of dogs or dogs of dogs – whatever we call them nowadays - can only be trained to a certain level. After they reach that level, (and it varies from dog to dog), they cannot be trained any further. No amount of switching or coaxing, feeding, bribing will get the male to go any further in his training. So I will stay with a female. In reality, I am only considering dogs that have a tradition of being bred to perform certain tasks related to hunting. All hunting breeds can be trained to retrieve, and flush to some extent. Most can be trained to do some form of pointing. After that it is only a matter of preference, temperament, size, color, pedigree, location, and of course cost.

I have been studying breed books for months. I have looked at pictures and attended field trials. I have talked with owners and handlers who love their breeds and I have spoken with those who haven’t been very successful with breeds. And through this intensive research I have narrowed it down between the retrieving breeds, the pointing breeds and the flushing breeds. Which, mind you, is exactly where I started.

I know from the onset that I don’t want a Labrador because of their popularity, and quite frankly, I just don’t want a dog that everyone else on the block has. Not to mention their destructive behavior during their puppy years; which for some lasts until they are dead. So in the retrieving breeds, I am looking at the Chesapeake, the Portuguese water dog, the curly coated retriever, the Irish water spaniel and the Boykin Spaniel.

Within the pointing breeds, of which there are many fine strains, I like the English Setter, (for nostalgia reasons) the wirehaired pointer, and the German Shorthair. When we move to the flushing breeds; we find the English Springer Spaniel, the Boykin Spaniel, (again) and the Brittany Spaniel top my list. I would never consider a cocker, or King Charles spaniel, or even the Clumber spaniel, does it really make sense to have a hunting dog that is a clumber? Just his name spells disaster in the field.

Of those listed above…..I quickly eliminated the Portuguese Water Dog for financial and political reasons…..they are simply too expensive, and they are a democrat’s dog. No self respecting republican would ever cut their dogs hair that way so they must be a democrat’s dog. And I want my dog to be my friend, and if we can’t discuss politics and agree from time to time, there is no reason to own one. Next, I have eliminated the Wirehaired because my wife thinks it is ugly and the Brittany because one of my best friends has one and I don’t want the same type of dog he has. So the list shortens even more and I get to the real important questions I have to ask before I can move on.

When it really comes down to it, there are 3 basic criteria that are the deal breakers and my new dog must meet all three.

1. Looks of the Breed. If it’s ugly – I don’t want it.

2. Size of the dog. I don’t want a dog I can’t carry out of the woods or field. So anything over 50 pounds is immediately eliminated.

3. Temperament of the breed. Is she going to be easy to train and a good companion. (like your children before they reach the teenzilla stage)

So with this in mind we eliminate even more breeds. Gone is the English Setter ---- females are at the breakeven point in weight and no female alive will ever be honest with their weight. And if I can’t trust her, she can’t be around! Who knows she might be pointing one day and I move in expecting a covey rise and a cottontail bursts from the cover.

Gone is the Chesapeake…well over 100 pounds. If I tried to carry that animal out of the woods, search and rescue would have to identify both of us. Gone is the Curly Coated Retriever….just too big and they look like Dr. J. from the 1970’s! Gone is the German Shorthaired…looks dirty all the time and a little leggy for my liking. Gone are the spaniels with the strange names, cocker, king charles and clumber……..I just could never look my hunting companions in the eye if I told them I just bought a cocker spaniel –or a Clumber spaniel. It just wouldn’t be right.

That brings me to the Boykin and the Springer – both spaniels. It is these two that are the finalist….along with the Irish water dog…but this is so similar to the Boykin that the Boykin has to get the nod because he’s our state dog.

Springer and Boykin the two breeds that have passed the tests thus far. Both are the right size, both have the temperament needed for a combination lap/hunting/companion dog. Both have beautiful markings and wavy coats. (Something I am partial to) I love the copper wavy coat of the Boykin and the Black and white (or liver and white) patches of the Springer. I love the long ears, and cropped tails.

So now that we have narrowed it down to these two….let us look at them in detail (from my perspective of detail) and make the decision once and for all.

The English Springer, has a great nose, they are known to be much calmer than the Boykin at an early age….but bred more for the show ring than the field. She can be trained to readily retrieve on land and water. Takes commands well and is a fast learner. When a field line can be found they are usually well bred. But there is the slight fear of “Springer fever” a temperament that causes them to sometimes be somewhat unpredictable. Still all in all a good choice.

The Boykin was designed to “not rock the boat” is a wonderful waterfowl retriever. They are great companions, and they have a great nose. Many are taught to flush upland birds and retrieve in fields as well. They do have the reputation of being somewhat high strung as young puppies. Then they are considered to be one of the best companion dogs alive.

So with all else being comparable it comes down to availability and price. The Boykin can be found for a modest price. And the Springer just about half again as much. Here in South Carolina, Boykin’s are readily available, while the Field line of the Springer is less available.

But in my gut, I am drawn to the Boykin. When I first saw a young Boykin with that copper wavy coat I immediately fell in love with the animal and have decided that the Boykin is the perfect hunting dog.

I have now begun the tedious process of selecting a name for my copper colored wavy haired Boykin female. After much deliberation, I have decided to name the dog after one of my closest friends and closest hunting companions. The name Walter doesn’t fit a female Boykin. But she doesn’t know that. She doesn’t know that Walter is not a fine name for a beautiful Boykin girl – so barring a protest from her therapist, Walter it is.

So stay tuned and get ready to join me as we share in the trials, tribulations and tales of Walter, my new female Boykin as we cover the fields, forest and water in the years to come.

Bottom Stand

2010-07-19T09:13:00.000-07:00

Recently I submitted this piece to an outdoor magazine. I haven't heard from them yet. But I wanted to share it here.

Bottom Stand

It was one of those moments that are etched into our memory like a fine checkering on a treasured double’s walnut stock. Intricate, detailed, mesmerizing and invaluable.

It was early season, the leaves were just beginning to turn from their summer green into shades of yellow, orange and red. A soft chill filled the air, our jackets proving to be barely enough to fight off the coolness.

Clouds of vapor bellowed from our mouths, even as we made our way down a long quartz covered roadbed to what has become known as our “bottom stand”. Located along the edge of an unnamed creek surrounded on two sides by hardwood ridges and a plantation of planted pines on the other.

This part of the piedmont is covered with white quartz, at least that’s what we call it. It appears in great numbers where the sand-land of the lowcountry meet the red clay of the midlands in South Carolina. Along this ridge just off of the Wataree river is a piece of property that has been in my wife’s family for more generations than anyone can remember. Long ago logging activity carved this road through the heart of this ridge leaving a scar on the landscape that we now use as a passageway into our future.

This was his first hunt on this treasured land, his brother before him had made this same walk several years prior. Now he makes his pilgrimage to the “bottom stand”. I’m not sure he understood the significance of this event. He was much too young to shoot, just a few months into his sixth year, and while some introduce their sons and daughters into harvesting game animals at this age and younger. I choose to wait until he has a better understanding of the responsibility of being a hunter, not just a shooter. Still he longed to be a part of the experience. So on this day, I endeavored to take them both. This stand is where I took my first deer off of this property, and where his brother took his first buck. Soon in a few years it would be his turn and this stand would be here to welcome him.

It was still dark as our headlamps caused the white rock to glow an eerie shade of yellow-white. I whispered to the boys, “walk slow, these rocks are noisy, we don’t want to spook anything on our way in.” Our pace slowed briefly, but the excitement quickly took over again as I found myself gasping for breath from the speed of the pace.

We had been walking single file down the road, me leading the way, followed by Ridge the youngest and Alex the older of the two boys. When suddenly it happened. Without warning, an unmistakable instant when all Dads know this is a moment to remember. As we walked down that road in the glow of our headlamps - Ridge reached up and took my hand into his and we walked down that road together. Hand in hand, father and son to his first deer stand. Alex followed in the rear, unaware of what happened. Ridge, I am sure not understanding the significance and me wanting the walk to be just a tad longer. I knew all too well that in a few years, this son will grow just as I had, and his brother had, and holding your dad’s hand in the dark is something we no longer do. But for this moment, for this brief interlude on this day, my mind will always know and remember this walk in the dark with my boys.

Until, that is, the day in the not to distant future, when we again make our way down this very road. A grown son and his aging Dad, going one last time to the “bottom stand”. Uncertain of his footing in the predawn darkness. I am convinced, if I can, I will reach out a shaking and twisted hand – and take his and I will remember thirty years before when the roles were reversed and I led him to his first hunt, as he leads me to my last.

I hope I am around to see it, I hope I am around to see when the day will come when he walks in the predawn darkness, headlamp on, the glow of the quartz rocks, the shuffling of uncertain feet, and small fingers find their way into his waiting palm as they usher in a new generation of hunters into the “bottom stand”.

Woodsman ship Lost

2010-03-18T06:43:00.000-07:00

Gone are the skills needed to be woodsmen and women. Gone are the days when men and boys would go into the woods for days at a time with little for provisions other than a can of Vienna sausages and canteens of water, slices of jerky and a cold biscuit. Replaced with camel back packs, trail mix and power bars. Gone are the days when we would sit on a stump all day so still that spiders would build a web between your legs. Replaced with condo type stands with carpet and heaters. Gone is the ability to distinguish the difference between a squirrel running through the leaves and a doe trotting for cover. Gone is the childlike excitment at the sight of a squirrel, or listening to the calling of a murder of crows in the distance. Replaced with an iPod blaring Lady Gaga into our minds while the natural world’s wonders go unnoticed. Gone are the days when fires were made with kitchen matches and fat lighter logs, piled with dead branches and lined with rocks. Replaced with propane heaters, and duraflame processed logs. Gone are the days when coffee was made in porcelain pots on an open flame with the grounds dumped into the boiling water. Replaced with automatic drip makers plugged into generators inside campers. Gone are the days when men could pick up a deer track in a forrest of leaves, or a squirrel nest in the popular hollow. Gone are the meat poles that proudly displayed the harvest of a successful day afield; replaced by processors, who for a fee, will skin and gut your deer for you.

I am concerned not about our heritage, rather about the legacy we will leave behind to our children. I am concerned that as sportsmen and women, we are recruiting people into the fold who know very little about the art of hunting much less the out of doors. And whose desire to learn is forever relegated to the guides they pay. We have replaced the art of reading signs of travel corridors and rub lines, wallows and coverts with well established food plots, automatic feeders, game bird preserves and fenced animals. We have traded our knowledge of orienteering, for a GPS, satellite imagery, and Google maps. We are training our youngsters to become clients instead of sportsmen. We are training our children that it is “hunting” when we pay for a pen raised preserve pheasant instead of walking the miles through the plains in search of wild birds. We are teaching our children that trophies are judged in antler size rather than the experience of just being there.

It concerns me that my sons watch professional hunters on TV and never see the work that goes behind it, believing it really is that easy. Their idea of hunting is sitting in a box over a food plot waiting to shoot an “acceptable” animal. It concerns me that the joy of the out of doors is no longer sitting by a fire and watching stars, it is no longer listening to the chirps of birds as the sun cracks the horizon, or the beaver slapping his tail in the near by pond. Rather it is wanting to place piles of corn or alfalfa in large piles and waiting to see what happens by. It concerns me that the killing has replaced the hunting. – The game of trying to outsmart an old buck in his home is replaced with manipulating the landscape to get an unfair advantage.

Don’t get me wrong, I use modern rifles and tree stands, I use camouflage and some of the commercial scents, and I own a GPS and binoculars but in my estimation the line has been crossed when we replace skill for convenience, when we replace the desire to learn about the game animals, with the killing aspect of the sport. The line is crossed when the emphasis has moved from the experience to the harvest.

I want my children to understand the skill of hunting, understand what the sign means, what trails to look for, what it is like to sneak up on an unsuspecting deer, or squirrel. I want them to experience the thrill of a covey rise and watch as a flock of geese circle the well placed decoys and the art of calling them into shotgun range. I want them to know how to build a fire in a snow storm, and what the glow of a moon means. To understand the animals they are pursuing and to enjoy the pursuit more than the harvest. – A harvested animal is a great accomplishment when done well. It satisfies the core of who we are as hunters, it completes the journey that began in some instances years before.

When we find a buck’s bedroom and area able to sneak into range and harvest him cleanly, we have accomplished something. When hunting skill takes precedent over marksmanship, we have become a part of the out of doors not merely a spectator. I want them to be good outdoorsmen, not merely good clients. I want them to become woodsmen not just hunters. If you are as passionate about hunting as I am, you would too. You would want the next generation to learn and know what the woods tell you about the game you are pursuing, all of the information is there, we have to learn to read the signs.

As a young hunter in my early teens, I was not privileged to have a father who shared my passion. After weeks of begging I convinced my parents that I needed a .22 long rifle so I could hunt. It was in those early years that I learned how to listen to the sounds of nature and determine what my next move was. It was in thousands of failures that I learned to become successful. It was in gaining understanding that a barking squirrel can be successfully harvested while they are distracted. It was in my experience in being there that I learned what sounds were and what they meant. Getting snorted at by hundreds of deer taught me that sound and how to avoid it more often than not. It was in getting lost that I learned how to pay attention where I was going so it wouldn’t happen again. It was in wading creeks that I learned to find a better way around unless you wanted to hunt in wet clothes the rest of the day. It was in harvesting animals that I learned about anatomy and the importance in good accurate shots.

I learned to properly clean an animal after I harvested my first one and and asked: “now what do I do?” my dad said, “you killed it, you clean it.” “But I don’t know how?” I protested. “If you are big enough to take that animals life you owe it to the animal to take care of it properly.” He said and walked inside the house. I have held on to that philosophy and I have never paid someone to clean an animal I harvested. I never will. It is my responsibility. Sadly I know many well versed sportsmen, who have harvested more deer than I and who have never cleaned their kill, they take it to the processor and pay him to do it for them. I don’t understand that at all.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not opposed to progress, and the use of technology but in my estimation the lines have become so blurred that the purity of our sport is quickly being lost, I fear for good. And this is evidenced in many areas: High fence estates, game preserves, GPS, ATV’s, night vision, compound bows shooting 350+ ft/sec. rifles shooting over 1000 yards, your list may be different from mine. Regardless of where you are, and what is on your list, we all must do what we can to ensure that the great sport of hunting maintains its integrity, and its lore. Just because something is legal doesn’t make it right. Just because you “can” do something does not mean you should.

We each must decide for ourselves, but for me, the purity of hunting is in the small things that make the times afield special, putting the pieces of the puzzel together to find that covert full of migrating woodcock. Or discovering the hideout of the buck you didn’t know lived on your land until you found his shed while scouting in the spring. Listening to the trukey’s gobble on a cool spring morning and feeling the chills run up your spine. Take the time to teach those coming after us, what it all means take the time to learn yourself what it means to be a woodsman and you will never look back.

Kansas Whitetails

2010-03-02T13:48:00.001-08:00

Two weeks ago I received an email that I never expected.

It started last summer when I found this website www.mydreamhunts.com I looked at the site and registered for free. This site gives away dream hunts every day of the year. 365 hunts per year PLUS an additional hunt per week for weekly referral give aways.

I won a seven (7) archery hunt in Kansas donated by Bell Wildlife Systems of Harveyville, Kansas. Mr. Daniel Bell is the outfitter and our phone conversations have been great. he has shared a lot of information, and been fully open to my coming. I will begin my hunt on October 27th - November 3rd. It will be a wanning gibbous moon in south east Kansas where the average buck is 140 inches!

Being from South Carolina, I can assure you I have never seen a buck even remotely close to that size. I am excited and hopeful about my opportunity. And I am grateful to www.mydreamhunts.com for this opportunity.

More to come later.......and If you go sign up, make sure you tell them that you were referred by me use my email. progers63@gmail.com.

End of season report

2010-01-05T06:35:00.000-08:00

Well the 2009 whitetail deer season has come to a close. And I must say it was without a doubt one of the most frustrating seasons in memory.

It started out great, seeing bucks every time I went into the woods. Then after the third week of October, I never saw another deer the entire season. Not one deer! Forget bucks, I couldn't even find a doe. I must admit, I was rattled to my core. I visited every aspect of my hunting: scent control, camouflage patterns, wind directions, sitting for longer periods of time, hunting at different times of day. Full moon, new moon, and every moon in between. Calling, rattling, and sitting quiet. Re-scouted the area and moved some stands, sat in different locations. Hunted from permanent stands, climbers, and from the ground. I am at a total loss. I just could not find the deer this season. And I hunted hard and often. Logging 20 days afield.

As i ponder the reasons, I am sure I will be scratching my head for several weeks and months trying to figure out what happened. But through it all I kept trying to remind myself that it is the "hunt" not the harvest that I enjoy. My patience was tried more this season than any since the mid 1980's, a drought that beat all droughts in a long time. But again, I enjoyed the hunts, the silence of the woods, the sights and sounds of nature, the fight to put the puzzle together and solve the riddle. This season the deer won, and that's OK. I'll be back after them next year with a vengeance. In the mean time, I switch gears to small game and waterfowl.

In fact this past Saturday my oldest son and I went squirrel hunting and had a great morning getting five squirrels, with 4 coming from the same massive oak tree! It was a lot of fun. Sunday after church, we poured the parboiled squirrels over some rice and had a feast!

I hope to get after some feral hogs in the coming weeks so I can get something for my freezer.

As for the deer season of 2009 - it will go down in the Rogers annuals as the season when I didn't harvest a deer. But that's OK, it just gives me a reason to go back next season. So when September 15th rolls around in 2010, I will be back in the woods, with my longbow in my hand chasing whitetails once again.

Eric's First Buck

2009-10-26T10:43:00.000-07:00

When I think about, and I often do think about the intangible benefits we get from hunting. I find that at times I just can't quite put my finger on it. Other times the words flow and seem almost too easy. But when its all said and done, the one constant I see among men is their desire to pass on their love for the outdoors and the great sport of hunting to our children. I am no different, now that my children are getting to the age where I can take them with me, i would almost rather take them with me, than not. It's becoming more of a testament of our time together than the hunt, the passing on of our traditions, and establishing new ones. It is all about honoring those before us, and notching our place in their memory bank.

A friend of mine had the pleasure of notching one of these moments this past weekend, and while I didn't hunt with them, we went together. and I had the honor of celebrating with them as young man harvested his first buck.

For some, it may seem less climatic as it was to us, but this is a passing of the torch, a culmination of years of expectations, anticipations and education. Years of tagging along, shooting practice, safety lessons, scouting, hanging stands, all of the work of hunting all came full circle on Saturday October 24, 2009 at about 9:15 a.m.

The moment brought back the time my own son harvested his first buck, I was more excited than he was, he didn't understand the magnitude of his accomplishment, I did. He didn't know how fortunate he was to have that opportunity, I did. He didn't know the consequences of pulling that trigger, I did. And so too did Greg and Eric. They understood that the accomplishment was far more than Eric harvesting his first buck. It was a culmination of time, energy and dedication. It was a memory permanently carved into the minds of a father and a son. A moment for which they will remember throughout their lives. A moment that will take them back, that will linger in their hearts and transform them to that place. It is a special moment for which there are no others.

Certainly Eric will grow and harvest more deer, perhaps even some bigger bucks, but none will replace his first one. There are only one "first" and I am proud that I was there to be able to join in the celebration as Eric bagged his first whitetail buck. Congratulations Eric!

The hunt itself wasn't spectacular, nothing dramatic happened, sitting in the ground blind, a buck and doe emerged into a food plot approximately 100 yards away, lifting his lever action .44 magnum Marlin Eric took careful aim, waited for the right moment and for his dads leg to stop shaking - before he could steady himself prior to squeezing the trigger on his gun and tugging on the heart of his dad. I think in order for sons to understand the emotion we feel at these times, they must have children themselves. I don't think they can comprehend the flood of emotion that comes over us as we witness these life moments with our children.

Hunting in the rain

2009-10-19T08:28:00.000-07:00

Saturday the weatherman called for a 20% chance of rain - he was wrong, it rained all day, so I sat in one of our "box" blinds overlooking a food plot - I wanted to hunt the oaks that are dropping - but i didn't bring my rain suit since it wasn't supposed to rain.

I got to the food plot and placed my Renzo's buck decoy in the middle of the plot. (See picture) Sat back and waited......at 9:15 I saw movement, a deer was running full bore straight to my decoy, I got my gun up and realized it was just a spike, so I enjoyed the show. He came running straight to the decoy, began to circle, and since the decoy is 2-D and not 3-D it disappears when you face it head on or tail on. - The little buck almost jumped out of his skin when the "deer" disappeared right in front of him and then reappeared again when he turned to run. I really wish I had the video camera running when this happened.

He didn't stick around for long after this and bounded into the woods, about 30 seconds later a doe being chased by a NICE buck ran across the lane leading to the food plot, I tried to call him back but he had other things on his mind. -

I got down about 10:30, made a small loop through the woods in the direction the nice buck ran during this still hunt I slipped up to within 25 yards of another spike, a 4 pt. I stood watching them as they slipped away. Moving to the feeding area, I spotted movement and a 6 pt came trotting by with his nose to the ground, he was within 20 yards, more like 15 broadside. Great show, after he left, I moved my climber to a better location, and got out of there.

I'm hoping to get back there this week for an afternoon hunt - catching them coming into the acorns late. We'll see, but that Decoy in the food plot may be a better idea as it gets closer to rut.....hummm

Perspective

2009-10-02T13:49:00.000-07:00

I am writing this in a hospital room beside the bed my 13 year old son.

Last Sunday at a baseball tournament he was pitching some batting practice and a line drive caught him in the back fracturing his spleen. We have had some tense times over the past few days and nights. Sitting here beside him, watching and praying for him to get better. It will be a long road for him, months of healing, months of boredom, of waiting for his body to recover from this trauma.

I'll spare the details, but as I have sat here - I can't help but think, and reflect on some of our times, some of the moments we have spent together in his short life. Some of our Times Well Spent. I know there will be more, and I guess it is appropriate at times like this to reflect, to kindle, and reminisce. Not in the manner of an ending, more of in the manner of a continuation, work left undone. Moments we need to capture - memories yet to make.

He will recover, he will get better, and we will have many more times we will spend together, sunrises and sunsets, more talks around campfires, more lessons about life and memories.

One of the things we say as he gets older, "Daddy, your taking Ridge and I now, one day we will be taking you." those are the moments I cherish, the moments I embrace and hold on to. Those are the real Times Well Spent, the times with my children and family. Those above all else are the ones that I cherish more than any other.

Technology and Hunting

2009-09-17T05:13:00.001-07:00

In today's hunting industry, (notice the language) hunting is now an industry instead of a past time, passion, right of passage, tradition, sport, - now its an industry. And in today's hunting world, we are bombarded with gimmicks, fly by night ideas, contraptions, you name it to help us become better hunters. I for one really don't understand it, I don't understand how people fall victim to it over and over again.

From carbon suits, now silver suits and clothes, to packaged deer poop, and urine, not to mention estrus secretions, (YUCK) I mean who has the job of harvesting this stuff...... and my personal favorite the "camo soap" from laundry detergent to foot powder, shampoo, wipes, everything you can imagine is now "Scent free" to help us kill game. I have to hand it to the companies, Primos, Mossy Oak, Hunters Specialities, TINKS, etc, they really know how to saturate a market.

But none of this replaces good woodsmanship. Nothing will replace effective scouting, hunting the wind, being still, etc. You can't buy woodsman ship at Wal-Mart or Cabela's, it's not available at Bass Pro Shops, it is only found in time spent in the woods. I am afraid as we try and bring in more people, young people into the sport, we are bringing in gadget junkies who know nothing about how to hunt, who can't tell the difference between a rub and a scrape, who wander through the woods never noticing a white oak from a red oak. We are building crutches for them to use when they don't have success, "I needed the new Realtree AP in green and I forgot to spray with scentlok before i left," - Fact of the matter is, woodsmanship is learned, passed down from generation to generation, and as we give it up for the next gimmick we are teaching our children the same thing. We are teaching them how to find excuses instead of learning opportunities. - We have lost the thrill of the hunt, and replaced it with harvest records.

Just two days ago, our archery season opened, and I went out at 12:30 to have an afternoon hunt, I sat in a natural ground blind i made weeks earlier in a good funnel area between bedding and feeding areas, - spotting some feeding does in the distance i began a stalk to close the distance for my longbow - it was one of the most exciting hunts I've ever had. I had the opportunity to draw on a doe twice, never loosed the arrow, but my heart was pumping, I was excited, I had placed myself directly in her path. years of failed attempts, years of poorly placed stands, not noticing wind currents, just hanging a stand where i can see the most area, a lot of time in the field translates to effective hunting. - I have a lot to learn, a lot, but after falling victim myself to some of these gimmicks that are being touted as the secret to hunting success, I have reverted to the old tried and true, the simple.

So as I recover from the addiction to the hunting industry, I warmly embrace the hunting life, the tradition, the sportsman's way, I welcome the failures and the successes no matter how small. I welcome the learning curve and could care less on how steep it is. I am certain much of it will come back. Much of it was not forgotten, just relegated to the old and not effective anymore. But it will return, scout 80% of the time and hunt 20% - learn what the woods are telling you, if you pay attention, the woods will tell you everything you need to know about your area, and you can set yourself in a perfect position. Sit still, hunt the wind; be flexible, mobile, adjust in the middle of your game if you have to - if this isn't working, do something else.

Remembering above all else that Hunting is a privilege it is about being there, it's about participating in the out of doors, respecting what it teaches you about your quarry and yourself. It is a discipline that few master, but many enjoy, lets bring the enjoyment back into our beloved sport rid ourselves from all of the gimmicks and just enjoy our Times well Spent.