Times Well Spent: I am a Hunter

Times Well Spent: I am a Hunter

I am a Hunter

     I Am a Hunter

          In a world where trophies are celebrated by measuring tapes and adventures, where testosterone trumps skill and experience is entrusted to paid guides. I choose to measure my time afield differently. I know I am not alone, I along with a few others, measure our time afield by the process. It’s about the being there, the pursuit, the challenge of hunting and hunting well. Antlers, beards, horns, skulls and skins are a bonus to the experience of quest. 

          I like it all – I love to hunt whitetail and mule deer, moose, turkey, squirrel, rabbit, quail, pheasant, ducks, geese, pigs, exotics, you name it and I love it all. I like shooting bows and arrows, compounds and traditional. I like shooting rifles, shotguns and pistols; muzzleloaders, antiques and brand-new – right out of the box guns that the sheer sight of them makes me drool. I love soft plinking rimfires and big bores that should never be shot against ones shoulder. I love the smoke cloud of an old flintlock and the recoil from a big pistol.

          I love the feel of an old smoothbore as it rises effortlessly to my cheek and the distinct bang it makes when the trigger is eased. I like big gauges and small bores from big powerful 10 gauges to light 20’s and the small 28 gauge and 420 bore. I love the sight picture of good optics, nestled atop a fine centerfire bolt action. I love the smooth draw of a longbow loaded with cedar arrows. And the lightning fast speed with which modern compounds fling carbon arrows through my quarry.

          I love relaxing in comfortable ladder stands, and nestling on the ground against a giant oak. I love still hunting to within feet of an unsuspecting buck, and wandering through ridges, breech open across my arm in hopes an old grouse would rise against a morning sky. I love wading through black water swamps whose swollen cypress mark time in centuries instead of minutes. And I enjoy sitting in a well-constructed blind, complete with stove and heaters.

          I enjoy plodding through briar thick coverts, and across vast prairies behind well trained dogs whose ability to sniff out birds allows me to become entranced with their dance and often forget why I am there in the first place. I love the sounds of hounds hot on the trail of ‘coon, deer, or rabbit, and the sight of a flush from a hillside grouse, CRP pheasant, or the rare wild bobwhite. I love the close working of a fine setter or a long roaming pointer and their statue still points that show me where the birds are.

          I love the solitude of the wilderness, and the camaraderie of the camp. I love the trappings and the conversations. I yearn for the silence of big country and woods that stretch for miles in any direction. The quiet that can only be found in big country, the echo of one’s own mind rattles and lingers against distant memories as new ones are burned into the bank of eternal instants; those brief moments that flashes through our lives and then lingers and forever transforms us.

          I long for the honking of a flock of geese committed to a well-placed spread of decoys and the twiddle of a woodcock that flushes between my legs. I crave the whistle of wood ducks and the screaming of a murder of crows.

          Nothing fills my soul like sitting around a camp fire and comparing calibers draw weights, optics, and styles. Discussing the dress of grouse men, in their tweed jackets and duck hunters in rubber pants. I love listening to men who own Brittany’s argue with those who prefer pointers. I adore the night sound of a lonesome coyote calling to a potential mate. Along with the owl who announces his presence with grander but whose best work is done in silence.

          

          It’s all there, the things that draw us to the forest and fields, from the flooded timber, to the high country; from prairies to mountain tops, and from deserts to the arctic.

          As a southerner by birth, my style of hunting is different than many from other parts of the country. Our woods are thicker, our deer smaller and our variety sparse. Yet this doesn't slow the passion.

          I've known many who are more successful. Many who have killed far more deer and whose string of turkey beards stretch for yards not feet. I've seen men who get a limit of doves at every shoot and those of us who never seem to do so. I marvel at those who can turn a flock of mallards at will and those who seem to be able to call a coyote at every stand. I've had the pleasure of sharing a camp with men whose experiences span the globe and whose trophy room lists hundreds of animals. I've known those whose guns cost more than my truck, and whose dogs were more valuable than my wife’s engagement ring. But I have only known a few, very few who hunt well.   

          The reason a person hunts is a particularly personal and deep rooted thing. Alas, though in these times of trophy collecting, and game farming, the reason to hunt is diluted among the inches of antler. I am not a ‘collector of bone’ or ‘species’ chaser, I am a hunter. I do not specialize in a single species, or with a single weapon. I am not a ‘bow hunter’ but I love to hunt with archery equipment. I am not a ‘rifle hunter’ but few things exhilarate me more than the gentle squeeze of a trigger and the result it provides. I am not a shotgunner, but when chasing flying quarry, it’s hard to beat.

          I am a hunter. I am not a deer hunter, or bird hunter. I am not a duck hunter or predator hunter. I am not a big game hunter or small game hunter. I am a hunter, I hunt because I am. I do not choose to hunt, I have to hunt. Hunting isn't a hobby that I engage in when I have time; hunting is a way of life that I was born to do. No, indeed I must hunt. It really doesn't matter if its deer or squirrel, coyote or rabbit. I don’t care if its feral pigs in a mosquito infested swamp or a savanna full of bobwhite. If I can be there, then there I will be. Hunting is about participating in the outdoors to its fullest. To seek, chase, and pursue a game animal for the sheer challenge of it all. It’s about getting so close you can see the eyelashes on a mature buck, or calling a turkey into your lap. It’s about watching waterfowl, glide –twisting and turning through flooded timber and marvel at the beauty of it all. It’s about sunrises on frosty mornings, and the subtle breeze that caresses your face on a cold clear day. It’s watching your breath loft through barren trees, and breaking ice to set decoys. Hunting is about friendships made and cherished, it’s shared moments and solitude. It’s challenging and surprisingly easy. It’s frustrating and exhilarating, and very humbling.

          As a hunter, I cherish my privilege to hunt. I cherish all moments afield. The opportunity to be out-of-doors are all moments when for this brief time, I can be certain; that there is no other place I would rather be than right here, right now. I know for certain, that of all the things I do, that when I am hunting, there are no better times well spent.   

Getting Ready

One of the things I love most about trapping season is getting ready for trapping season. It seems somewhat silly to some, but the preparation and anticipation are almost as much fun as actually trapping. With opening of the 2012-2013 South Carolina Season one week away, there is much to do.

Ridge adding dye to our trap cooker

Traps need attention from last season. Several dozen need mid chain swivels, others need new 'dogs'. Still others need their pans adjusted to the proper tension. Like a lot of trappers, I have traps dedicated to specific species. My coyote traps have pan tensions set a lot stiffer than my raccoon traps. And my bobcat traps have a different pan tension from either of these, then there are the fox traps, and muskrat traps. 

Adding swivels to my traps

Body grip traps need triggers manipulated, and dogs filed. Anchors need to be remade. Stakes need welding. The biggest task is dying the traps. (unlike many trappers, I don't wax my traps - I have my reasons) Lastly, is making bait - which I didn't mean to put off until the last minute, but alas, I did. 

Ahhh - the smell of cooking traps

The day is filled with anticipation. My partner, who is also my 11 year old son Ridge, and I headed out to the shop early, the fire was lit beneath the washtub that would serve as our cooker for dying our traps. (NOTE TO SELF: It takes at least an hour to bring 17 gallons of water to a boil on a high burner propane cooker - allow for this next year) While the water was heating up, we cut chain, added swivels, tightened pans, adjusted triggers, and finally added the dye (Pete's Sleepy Creek Trap Dye) It takes about a bottle and a half to do my traps in seventeen gallons of water. I like to wire a half dozen traps together so I can remove them when done. Traps were added to the water, and typically I let them cook for a minimum of one hour but prefer a bit longer. My tub would hold about eighteen traps, so I had several rounds of cooking. 

While the traps were cooking, our bait making process began. I can without a doubt this is my Ridge's least favorite part. Filling the shop with the aroma of Violator 7, or GH II is something neither if us enjoy but its necessary. Bottles were consolidated, some thrown out - (I know our garbage man loves this.) and others were made. All in all it took us about nine hours to complete our task. 

Once the traps are cooked, I lay them into their air-tight containers where they remain until they go into the ground. Bare hands will never touch again. A pair of gloves is in each tub and they will only be handled with the gloves designated for that tub.  - More about this if a future story.

As I said earlier  - trapping season open Dec. 1, seven days and counting. Sites have been scouted, sets marked and now all traps and bait are ready. The countdown to opening day begins. 

Of all the things I do in the out-of-doors, nothing beats the challenge and excitement of trapping. I love all 'opening days'. Opening day of hunting season, and the different ones that follow - Deer season, gun season, duck season etc. But nothing - nothing gets me as excited as opening day of trapping season. 

Wait to see what comes this season as we set steel to catch some critters. 

Lonestar Outdoors Radio

This past week, I was interviewed by Cable Smith, host of Cabela's Lonestar Outdoors Radio show. http://texasoutdoorsmedia.com/
The Interview involved a recent story I wrote for Game and Fish magazines. Its title, Topographically Speaking - using topographic maps to identify the travel patterns of big bucks. The show aired Saturday November 10, 2012 at stations all across Texas. 

You can listen to the pod cast by clicking the link below:

http://texasoutdoorsmedia.com/this-weeks-show-47/

Follow The Line to Success

When it comes to locating sign for big bucks nothing stands out like big rubs. This sign is easily identified, easily found and for some of the most successful hunters the number one sign they look for.

Big Rubs Mean Big Deer

     “Rubs” also known as tree rubs, are used for many purposes. Some are used to remove the velvet from the antlers at the end of the growing season. Although most bucks use bushes and brush for this since the antlers are still a bit tender. Other rubs are used as scent markings or territory markings, and some are community rubs. Knowing which are which, and how to identify these can lead to continued success for trophy hunters in the Carolina’s and Georgia.

            As the rut begins to take shape, dutiful hunters will notice more and more rubs present near the core areas of trophy bucks. As these become more prominent, and more frequent it identifies the presence of a buck in a certain area. Trophy bucks will, as I like to call it, ‘announce’ their presence, and they do this with rubs on big trees, and trees that are easily noticed by rival bucks. They will also increase the frequency of their rubs and the location is critical.

One of 19 rubs in a 50 yard area

            In one recent location, I noticed a line of rubs on a property I was hunting. As I followed the line, there were twenty three rubs within a one hundred yard stretch. Further investigation showed no less than forty eight rubs within this five acre area. Clearly this was this particular bucks core area and he was letting all rival bucks know this via this visual and scent markings left by these series of rubs.  

            Hunters should take note – these rub lines are one of the most important pieces of information left by bucks. When a hunter notices these rub lines, again these are a series of rubs on trees in a fairly straight line that can cover anywhere from a few dozen yards to several hundred yards. The greater the frequency the more he is visiting his area. And the closer to these rubs you should set your stand. One thing is for sure, unlike scrapes that are very unpredictable, rubs will let the hunter know for certain that a buck is there and visiting regularly.

            While its true that you cannot definitely the size of the buck from the size of the rub, there are key indicators that will point the hunter in certain directions. While a trophy buck will rub a small tree, a small buck will not rub a big tree. Conversely, a four point cannot leave the sign that a big eight point buck leaves. Rubs on iron wood trees that are nine inches in diameter will definitely indicate a trophy buck. While a one inch sapling can be either. If I find a series of rubs on trees in excess of four inches in diameter, I hang a stand close by knowing that he has announced his presence and I need to hunt this area.

Follow the Line to Big Bucks

            Experience scouting the same areas will also show hunters that some bucks seem to prefer certain types of trees to rub. In the midlands of South Carolina, bigger bucks seem to prefer larger cedars and hard wood trees, while subordinate bucks will tend to rub pine trees.

            These rub lines can also tell you which direction the bucks are traveling along their route. Big rubs tend to be on only one side of the tree, this will indicate the direction of travel. When I notice this, I take note of the wind, and hang a stand that will put the wind in my favor along his direction of travel. For example, If I notice that the direction of travel is north to south, I will hang a stand along his travel route on the south side of his travel route and only hunt with a northerly wind. This will significantly place the odds in my favor. If the conditions are favorable, and I can hunt there for three consecutive days, more times than not I will see this buck.

            When scouting for bucks nothing excites me more than finding big rubs that follow a certain path. Moreover, if I notice a tree that has scars on it, and sign that it has been rubbed for consecutive years, I know I am dealing with an older buck that will take extra care. However, he has shown me his core area, all needed now is to set up and kill him.

            Of all the sign left by trophy bucks nothing will put more trophy bucks in your sights like rub lines. Food plots are nice, scraps are unpredictable, and travel corridors are sketchy. But add some of these with big rubs along a series of trees over a stretch of ground and you have the final piece of the puzzle that will put big antlers in your hands.

                                                     

South Carolina Alligator

After three years of applying and getting the denial notice in the mail. I finally drew my alligator tag for South Carolina's limited draw alligator season. I couldn't sleep as I anxiously awaited opening day which was held the first Saturday in September for the month long season. 

Pete Rogers with his
South Carolina Alligator

In South Carolina the alligator must be restrained prior to dispatch. This can be accomplished by many legal methods. Harpoon, bow and arrow, crossbow and snatch hook are the most popular. I was prepared with three of the option mentioned above minus the crossbow. 

As fate held it, the alligator of the South Santee were elusive to some degree. We did see a lot of alligators, but looking for my self imposed 9 footer was proving to be a bit of a challenge. Opening weekend we spent almost twenty hours looking for a suitable 'gator. It would take an extra trip to get my gator. 

Hunting with Marshall French, head guide at Duck Bottom plantation out of Horatio, SC proved to be the perfect set up. Few outdoorsmen are as accomplished as Marshall. I believe he could catch fish in a parking lot if needed. And kill ducks or deer in the desert. If it can be had, he is the man to get it done. 

After almost twelve hours of hunting, we spotted a candidate, as we approached, I launched a snatch hook over his back and the fight was on. I have been fortunate enough to catch a lot of fish in my life, and many have been pretty big, but nothing compares to hooking into an alligator. After a thirty-five minute fight the 'gator surfaced for air and I placed a ,38 caliber bullet into his brain to end the battle. 

My 'gator measured eight feet, just shy of my self imposed minimum, but it was a fine specimen. And one I am truly proud of. I got the call today from the taxidermist - my skull mount is ready, I cannot wait to  get it and place it prominently in my home. 

If you have the chance to hunt 'gators, I highly recommend it. Its different from any other outdoor adventure I've done, and one I definitely want to do again. 

SCOPe Excellence in Craft Awards

Last week I attended the annual South Carolina Outdoor Press Association's annual conference that was held in Myrtle Beach, SC.

One of the highlights of the conference is seeing other communicators from across our state, many of whom are legends in their prospective fields. Sharing and learning from these masters is a great experience.

At the annual banquet, our President, P.J. Perea handed out the Excellence in Craft (EIC) awards. During this years awards, I was honored and humbled to receive four awards. Two 2nd place awards and two 1st place awards.

My 1st place awards were for Electronic Media for a story entitled "Accessing your Stand" which I wrote for Elliott recreational properties

The other 1st place was for my recently self published book that is titled after this blog "Times Well Spent: Ramblings From a Sportsman's Life"

The second place awards were for a Magazine Short feature of 1000 words or less for a story entitled "Protect that Nest Egg" that appeared in SC Sportsman magazine in January of 2012
The other 2nd place was for Magazine Feature of 2000 words or more for a piece entitled "Chasing Royalty" That also appeared in SC Sportsman in February of 2012.

To say I was shocked is an understatement. To be in this group of esteemed writers and win these was a very humbling experience. That has fueled my passion even more. To attempt to capture in words what we as outdoors people see and feel and convey that to others is a driving force for me. I hope that as I continue in this venture, I will grow, and get better as a communicator of all things outdoors.

Footnote: My book is undergoing a "re-design" at this moment and will be available in hardback shortly after the first of the year. pre-orders are available by contacting me directly at;
peterogersoutdoors@gmail.com

Summer Practice

          As the summer gets into its long hot days many of our thoughts turn to preparing our property for the upcoming season. For land owners in the south that means an early opening day. Some parts of my home state of South Carolina open August 15, other areas September 1, and still others a bit later. In surrounding states and other locals across the country you have a bit more time. But it’s never too early to begin a good practice regimen.

          For those of us who have an earlier opening, we must begin now preparing our land and ourselves for the upcoming season. Bow hunters in particular need to begin now getting our muscles and our shooting form back into shape. Our shooting needs to be sharp and our form needs to reflect the work put into our preparation.

          As has often been said, good practice leads to good execution in the moment of truth. Poor practice will only worsen the moment. But before even beginning your summer practicing regime, take your bow to your local pro shop and have it gone through in detail. The expense is minimal and the peace of mind it brings is worth every penny. Having the bow properly tuned will build confidence in your equipment and that translates to better performance on the range and out of the stand. There is nothing worse than having an equipment failure in the field. But couple this with the knowledge that it could have been prevented and it’s magnified. 

As the mercury rises practice shooting in shorter increments, but really focus on good practice. Some days only shoot a dozen shots. Knowing that as it get hot, and the sweat starts to flow, your form will falter and you could begin picking up bad habits.

          There are as many methods to practice as there are archers. And what works for some may not work for others. But it’s a good bet to begin by executing a few warm up shots at 20 yards. Then follow this with a few shots at 30, then a few at 40 and finally some at 60 yards (or whatever your maximum is). At these longer ranges execution has to be flawless when shooting. This long range practice will force you to focus on all of the details to make the shots work for your hunt to be executed well.

          A well set up and tuned bow that you have practiced with will feel so natural in your hands that as you get the shot of the season or of a lifetime, you will know with confidence that your equipment and your skills are ready to perform flawlessly.

         

                    

Floating The Lumber River in South Carolina

The Lumber and Little Pee Dee Rivers in South Carolina are just two of several black water rivers that flow through our state. I recently had an opportunity to spend a few days fishing along these rivers for Redbreast Sunfish. 

The experience was better than I imagined. Floating along the oil black water, gazing at massive centuries old cypress trees caused my mind to drift lazily. I imagined Francis Marion wading through these very swamps evading British troops. I imagined Native Americans living among these moss draped trees and wondered if I appreciated it as much as they. I sat comfortably in my boat seat and cast lures toward banks eroded with time and wondered. These very waters produced the world record Redbreast almost four decades ago. Would those days ever return when one and a half pound redbreast were more common? Would the river ever loose its luster, its allure? As the water levels fell, and the river becomes a mere trickle when spring gives way to summer. Will it recover? 

As I drifted along, I sensed serenity. My dad grew up mere miles from this very spot. He wasn't a fisherman, but his father was. I wonder if they floated these very courses? I wonder if my dad saw in these trees, this moss, this pitch black water the beauty I now admire?

The fishing was outstanding by my standards. Certainly not the good ole days I've heard about. But a bad day spent along the Lumber river is still a great day. I caught my personal best redbreast, and some giant bluegill. 

The first evening, we pulled up to a friends cabin, cleaned our fish and fried golden brown, what only less than an hour before was swimming the Lumber. Fish never tasted so good. I hope it isn't long before I have the opportunity to go back to the lazy waters of the Lumber. To float amid ancient trees, whose stories I'd love to hear. To drift lures by their fallen comrades and feel the tug on my line and see the beauty of the Redbreast, in the black water. 

Here is a Preview of my book. Its available NOW at www.lulu.com for $10.99 and will be available on Amazon in 6 weeks.

Book Release!

Finally after almost ten years my book "Times Well Spent; Ramblings From A Sportsman's Life" is released.

This blog began as an extension of the book in progress. It was intended to "feel out" the scope of the ramblings and thoughts. Now with 21 chapters or should I say, ramblings, the book is complete - at least volume 1 is. I suspect volume 2 wont take as long to compile.

So what is the book about. As an outdoor writer, passionate sportsman I began to compile short stories of what it's really like for us. The sights, sounds and smells. The camaraderie shared, friendships made and the allure to be in remote places. What its like to wade small streams. To sit around campfires and listen to complete strangers bare their souls. How it feels to take your son (or daughter) on their first hunt. To watch as they catch fish, and to participate fully in the miracle of what we call the out of doors.

For me, Times Well Spent, is personal. Its a part of who I am, how I thing, and what I feel each time I am fortunate enough to partake. Chasing a gobbler through majestic oaks, floating lazily along oil black rivers, anchoring in deep water bays, or sitting in a frost covered deer stand is a privilege that I cherish.

It's my hope that all who read Times Well Spent, Ramblings from a Sportsman's Life, will indeed be transported into my world. Where days afield are never taken for granted, sunrises cherished, and friendships kindled. I hope for you, that all of your days afield will also always be; Times Well Spent.

Copies of my book, "Times Well Spent; Ramblings from a Sportsman's life" can be found in paperback at; www.lulu.com

Within a few weeks it will be available on Amazon.com and on all ebook readers including: iBook, Nook, and Kindle.

A Challenge Answered

While turkey hunting a few weeks ago, I came headlong into one of the elements of nature that cause many to shiver.

There are many sounds of nature I have never heard. Others I am very familiar with. I can recognize a barn owl at half a mile. A mocking bird on a branch at dawn. And grunting bucks chasing unwilling does. I know the sound very well of a red tail hawk teasing a murder of crows, and their antagonized response. I know the sound of a gobbler who is teasing his hens, and one that is on a dead run. I have heard many times the gander as he sets his wings and recognize by sound when to "take 'em". I know the difference between a Pintail, and a Wood duck, a Mallard from a Black Duck, and a Canvasback from a Ringneck. Many sounds in nature as as familiar to my ear as my wife's voice when she calls me for dinner.

There are other sounds I haven't heard. I've never heard the growl of a grizzly bear - nor do I want to. I've never heard the teasing of a porpoise or the shrill of an Orca. And I'm not sure I would recognoize it if I did.

And until April 6, 2012, I'd never hard the sound of a rattlesnake.

As my friend and I were roaming in search of turkeys we ambled along an old loading deck where long forgotten loggers loaded their trucks. In this ambling we let our guard down. Each of us walked within easy striking distance of this Timber Rattlesnake. He was wearing snake boots, I was not. After passing a few feet, the snake awoke from her slumber and coiled and announced her presence. The sound, while never heard by my ears was instantly recognizable. The soft rattle rang through my ears like gongs and bells. Turning around my Benelli instantly came to my shoulder and Mrs. Timber Rattler was introduced to a load of 3 1/2" Winchester #5's.

It happened so fast, so instantly that it was almost instinctual. Without thought or hesitation, I shouldered the 12 gauge, released the safety and blew that snake into four pieces.

Some would argue that I should have let the snake go. That I should have allowed the snake to meander along its way. That I should have shown restraint. My reply is simply, had she not announced her presence she would have lived. One thing I learned in this transaction. The rattle of the Timber rattlesnake is a challenge, a threat, an invitation if you will to engage. So I accepted the challenge. She came to the battle with rattles, fangs and venom. I answered with a 12 gauge load of # 5's.

I won.

Dreams Do Come True

Whoever said "dreams don't come true" is not a turkey hunter!

Since I knew my wife and I were having a boy, I'd dreamed of this moment. I sat in the woods alone for 9 years while he was too young and practiced, and hunted hard. Preparing for this day, the day would come when I wouldn't be here alone. When he would join me for his turkey hunts. I dreamed of father and son, walking through the spring woods to his first turkey hunt. That day came this past Saturday, March 31, 2012. It was our annual "youth hunt" for turkeys. And Ridge and I were settled in the woods known as "Home place". On a piece of property we own in the Midlands of South Carolina.


The morning started out slow. The gobblers were silent, but as the morning moved along, his patience didn't wane. And his excitement grew. After forty-five minutes of soft calling a Jake appeared to our left, and moved behind us. I told Ridge it was a legal bird if he wanted it. Without hesitation he said he did. Turning around slowly, he picked out a bird and promptly killed it! Running to the fallen bird, Ridge jumped in my arms. Yelling in excitement of killing a turkey. And I in excitement for knowing what this moment meant. For him, it was killing his first turkey, for me a dream came true. We sat beside this magnificent bird, admired its beauty, and hugged again. "Thank you Daddy, thank you so much." He said over and over. Looking at his beaming face, I knew that dreams do come true. That moments like this don't occur anywhere else. Bowing my head I said a prayer of thanks to my God for allowing this to happen.

Sportsmen and women all know that dreams do come true. We live them at every sunrise. We live them at every gobble that echos through the spring mornings. At the sight of a mature tom, strutting and gobbling as he looks desperately for the source of the calling. At the sight of every buck or bull. Every flush and flutter of wings. Every tight chain on a trap. Every fish hooked and landed. Yes Sportsmen and women know that every moment spent in the out of doors is indeed dreams coming true. And all of these are indeed times well spent.

Spring Fishing

Ok, I'll admit it, I LOVE fishing. I really don't care what I'm fishing for. I love it all. Sitting over a brush pile catching Crappie, is a lot of action and a lot of fun. Drifting large chunks of bait for giant blue catfish is a blast. Sight fishing for redfish inshore, trolling for tuna. Its all fun, and addicting!

For the past several weeks I've been working in a part of our county that has a few isolated trout streams. I said to myself I needed to remember to bring my spinning outfit with me and during lunch break, make a few casts. Well, I finally remembered to bring along my ultralight spinning outfit. A Pflueger Patriarch and an Abu Garcia 5' ultralight. I was using 6 lb test since that's the smallest the stores around here carry. But I prefer 2lb for trout and panfish. (Yes I really like fishing light line - that's another post to come).

In a pool that I will not mention since its a relatively pressured stream, and I don't think many fish this particular area. I tied on a 1/32 oz beetlespin in black. Made a lot of casts and even missed a fish. After about fifteen minutes, I threw into some ripples and felt the aggressive tap that trout are known for. Normally in this stream 6" is an average size, with a few 9" being caught. My personal best stream wild brown came from this area about fifteen years ago. It was a nice 14" brown and another 13" rainbow. But the giants were elusive this day. The beetlespin fluttered along the rocks and the hook up came. A mighty fight by a beautiful brown trout, followed by prayers it wouldn't throw the lure before I could get some pictures. I got a few pictures and guessed the fish at about 10-11 inches. A real nice stream trout for South Carolina.

A few minutes later I was searching the tackle box for a new lure and saw a crawdad colored lipless crankbait about 1" long. Not even remembering where it came from, I tied it on to see what would happen and on the first cast I hooked a nice Rainbow, about 10" in size. A good lunch break to say the least.

I know that many purist trout anglers frown on the use of spinning tackle to catch trout. But for my money, its productive, and if it gets more people enjoying time afield, and its legal its a good manner of fishing.

Funny how a 10" fish can get one so excited. Both were released to fight again. I'm hopeful that on my next lunch break in that part of the county another beautiful brown will be waiting for me.

Seasons of the Year

Like most people I love the changing seasons. I enjoy the transformation from one to the other and look to each with certain anticipation. Preparing for each individually, and reflecting on each as the year passes along.

For many outdoors persons, the seasons we mark aren't dictated with the changing of seasons, so much as they are with legal dates on a calendar. In our part of the world, whitetail season begins in stages. If you are from the lowcountry in South Carolina it begins in August. For me, its September, and the marking of seasons begins. I mark them all - Dove season, deer season, duck season, rabbit season, grouse, and woodcock seasons. Trapping season, and finally, the last of all Turkey season, which for some is the first season of the year since it begins in spring. But for me, its the last season of the year. My seasons begin September 1 with the opening of deer and dove seasons and end May 1 with the end of turkey season.

As I write this, I am looking at the calendar and see that we have fifteen days until the beginning of Turkey season. Youth Day is March 31, and I am anxiously waiting to take my son on his first turkey hunt. As I wait - might I add I am far more anxious than he, I am reminded that the seasons we mark as sportsmen are also seasons we mark as parents, sons and daughters, friends and colleagues. Seasons come and go, and they are all remembered for their success and for their failures. But more than that, they are remembered for the family and friends we shared them with and we always know that regardless of the weight in our game bag. These are always Times Well Spent.

Spectator Fishing

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.