MY BIGGEST WALLEYE EVER!

MY BIGGEST WALLEYE EVER...NOT!

Fish are funny and fickle.  But fortunately, they're also predictable.  Success is usually determined by figuring out what works and duplicating it over and over.  This repetition also leads to guesses of species and size, oftentimes long before the fish is ever seen, and sometimes delusions of grandeur.  The biggest are always the ones that get away before positive identification can be made.

Over the years I've become adept, like many anglers, at determining what species of fish just inhaled my jig-and-nightcrawler combination I use while walleye fishing.  Drum, white bass, wipers, channel catfish and walleye have distinctive ways they bite, and subsequently fight, giving away their species long before they get to the boat.

But this "sense" isn't an exact science.  Although it works MOST of the time, I'm occasionally wrong.  But rarely does a guess of giant drum or channel catfish turn into a monstrous walleye.  The opposite can happen and often does, particularly with channel catfish and even more so with flathead catfish.  Take for example one evening last week.

A buddy and I were catching plenty of walleye and the occasional fish big enough to make any angler "oohhh" and "aahhh" when it surfaced.  We were also catching lots of "others" so our predictions were never few and far between.  Most times they were spot on.

However, on one good tell-tale walleye "whack," I dropped my rod and gave the fish a moment to inhale the jig-and-nightcrawler.  On the hook-set the fish didn't budge much.

"This is a big 'eye," I told my buddy.  "Get the net!"

The slow, lethargic, side-to-side head shakes told me this was a BIG walleye.  And while I've caught quite a few walleye over 7 pounds, I've never cracked the 8-pound mark.  The fact this fish wasn't coming in quickly told me I might have a legitimate shot at a personal best, maybe even substantially larger.

I fought the fish for a couple minutes just knowing it was at least an 8 or 9 pound walleye.  All indications during the fight gave me no reason to doubt it.  I was already planning photos and figuring out who I would send them to marking this historic occasion. 

But at the first swirl of the big fish at the edge of the boat, with my buddy poised with the net like a Great Blue Heron about to strike and threatened with his life if he missed, reality reared it's ugly, whiskered head.  Another confirming glimpse of a forked tail and my dreams of a giant walleye were squashed.  

"Dang, man, it's a catfish!" I said in a response edited for print. 

And a channel catfish to boot.  I can honestly say I'm not generally fooled by channel catfish.  They often roll or spin at some point giving away their identity, particularly while drifting.  I am a sucker for flathead catfish as they don't do this and I've had run-ins with 5 pound flatheads that are sure-fire 10 pound walleye...until I see them.

 

RIGHT SPECIES!

Despite my disappointment, the 7-pound channel catfish joined some of his toothy, piscine friends in the livewell.  Disappointment was quickly replaced with good-natured ribbing but all was not lost. My buddy took the big cat home and it's likely he's already been served next to some French fries and Cole slaw. 

It was a great evening on the water.  We had a wonderful time and the walleye fishing was fantastic.  But I'm still looking for that 8-pound-plus 'eye.  Here's hoping next time it won't have whiskers!  







  

BIG FISH FUN

Catching fish is simply fun.  While some anglers prefer to catch LOTS of fish, others like the pursuit of big fish.  Personally, I've never really had a preference and I enjoy catching many species of fish both large and small.  But every once in a while it's rewarding to hook up with a nice one.  Oftentimes those fish are the ones remembered and many of them get larger over time.  Here are just a few that come to mind and now easily accessed in the world of digital media.

My family camps several times every summer with my sister and her family.  It's always a good time when my kids get to see their cousins and we have a great time fishing and playing in the water.  On occasion my mother joins us and she loves to fish, too.  We were fishing for channel catfish one summer a couple years ago and my mom hooks into what she thought was the bottom.  But it started moving and she quickly realized it was a fish and a big one to boot.  It was all she could do to hold onto the pole (she would later have a bruise where the butt of the rod was buried in her stomach) as the big fish dove for the depths.  I realized something wasn't right by the way the fish was fighting and not succumbing.  She finally got it to the side of the boat and the monstrous cat was foul hooked near the base of the tail.  We shot a few photos with her and her grand kids and her big fish.  It was at that time I was nearly written out of her will when I told her we had to release the fish.  "WHY?" she screamed.  A quick explanation of Kansas fishing regulations didn't do much to get me back into the will and I eased her big fish over the side.  But my mom, kids, nieces and nephews still talk about the one that "HAD to get away."

Family fishing adventures are always fun.  Even when the preferred species doesn't cooperate, in this case channel catfish, there always seems to be other sorts of excitement.  And although carp are considered rough fish a youngster tussling with a 5-10 pound carp every few minutes is enough to keep any kid busy and happy.  Years ago we'd have outings where we'd catch a handful of nice channel catfish but the highlight, for the kids anyway, were dozens of carp that readily ate the stink bait intended for catfish.

Truly monstrous fish of any species are unique.  In the world of crappie many anglers consider a 2-pounder to be one worthy of big fish consideration.  While I've caught many over two pounds I've never cracked the 3 pound mark coming within a few ounces only a handful of times.  This fish came from Glen Elder Reservoir a couple years back.  It was just over 16 inches long and incredibly deep-bodied.  Only a week or so removed from the majority of the spawn this fish was a legitimate contender for a 3-pounder had I caught it just a few days earlier. 

Fishing trips with my kids are richly rewarding.  Even ones where we don't fill the livewell or get sore fingers from dozens or hundreds of fish are enjoyable.  My daughter was home for a couple weeks from college recently when we enjoyed a nice day on the water together.  While we caught several dozen fish of assorted species, we didn't catch many walleye of legal size.  However, when we caught this fat 5-pounder my daughter was as excited as if we'd been catching fish all day long just like it.  She promptly put the photo on her Facebook page and was pleased when overnight she had 29 "Likes" on the big fish photo. 

 

FUNGUS AMONG US

Spring, if you can call it that now as I watch it snow as I type, is a great time to enjoy outdoor activities.  Turkey hunting, shed antler hunting and walking the banks fishing for spawning crappie are all popular pursuits in May.  And there are a handful of outdoor enthusiasts that can't wait for all the ingredients to line up when Mother Nature starts popping morel mushrooms.  The mysterious, secretive fruits are a delicacy and prized by many.

Hunting the fungus, while sounding a bit disgusting, is a popular pastime for many Kansans.  Those familiar with morels are out in full force right now reaping the rewards of a bountiful crop in many parts of the state.  If you haven't ever tried mushroom hunting now is a good time to give it a shot.  To borrow a phrase from one of America's favorite Duckmen, Si Robertson, "Hey, it's on like bing-bong, Jack!"

Morels grow in drainages along creeks, rivers and wooded draws.  They typically grow in association with various types of trees including cottonwoods, elms, cedars, sycamores and ash.  Areas where the ground has been disturbed due to cutting or trimming activities is good as morels often pop up in the disturbed soil.  Areas that have been burned are also good places to look, too. 

Edible morels (left) are hollow throughout the stem and fruit.
False morels (right) are solid and shouldn't be consumed.

Although there are thousands of different types of mushrooms in the world, some of them poisonous, the edible morel mushroom is easily identified.  Visually, it looks like a sponge and if cut longitudinally it's hollow throughout the main fruit and stem.  Harvested morels should be pinched off at ground level and carried in a mesh sack.  While it may help with spore dispersal, although that's debated, a mesh sack allows the mushrooms to remain fresh and "breathe" versus stored in a plastic bag.  Mushrooms can be stored for a couple weeks, refrigerated, in a paper sack and if washing is necessary done just before they're to be cooked.

Morels can be prepared a variety of ways but all of them should be cooked.  Sauteed in a pan with a little bit of butter they can be added to favorite pasta dishes, scrambled eggs or omelets.  One of the most common is cut lengthwise in two and dipped in a liquid bath of egg and milk and then lightly coated with flour seasoned with salt and pepper.  Fried to a golden brown in hot oil at about 350 degrees for 3-4 minutes the results are morsels fit for a king.

It's likely due to their wonderful flavor, their "secretive" nature and the fact they can't be artificially propagated, that morels are expensive.  They sell online for $20-$40 per pound and many people don't bat an eye buying a sack-full of fungus at these prices.  Professional morel hunters will dry the bounty they don't sell fresh and market them to culinary chefs in this country and abroad.   

The good news is some experts say the morel "season" is about at its midway point with several good weeks left.  But there's bad news, too.  That comes in the form of poison ivy and ticks, the latter which seem particularly bad in the last week or so.  These vermin come in all sizes and it's important to check yourself once you return home.  Ticks that have attached should be removed as quickly as possible to prevent the chances of tick-borne diseases being transmitted.

  

Morel spots are cherished and often shared only among close friends who are sworn to secrecy as to their location.  Finding new spots is a matter of logging countless hours, and possibly counted miles, of walking through likely-looking habitat.  But once a morel is spotted it's not often alone and others are nearby.  Spots good one year are often good in subsequent years.

Searching for mushrooms is a great way to spend a nice spring afternoon.  Finding mushrooms is even better!   

YOUTH HUNTS ARE A GOOD TIME

The Kansas Department of Wildlife, Parks and Tourism (KDWPT) offers a variety of special hunting opportunities.  Most are in the fall but spring turkey hunts are on the list, too.  Many of them focus on youth hunting opportunities and they're conducted in various parts of the state.

The KDWPT youth turkey hunt at Hutchinson has been going on for a dozen years or so and 10-12 youngsters are treated to a wonderful experience during the special youth season.  Most kids manage to kill a bird over the course of an evening and morning hunt.  If not, there's always tales of narrow misses and what-ifs.

There were 10 kids present for this year's hunt and one youngster and his father came all the way from Denver, Colo., to participate.  Shotguns were patterned and participants were treated to grilled hot dogs, chips, snacks and drinks (courtesy of the Ark River Chapter of Pheasants Forever) before heading afield with their parent or guardian and a volunteer guide.  Each kid walked away with a Cabela's gift card, camo hat, box call and information on hunting wild turkeys.

The evening hunt was a good one and for once the weather cooperated.  About half of the kids managed to kill a turkey the first evening.  Those that didn't were back bright and early the next morning and the weather and morning promised to be a good one.  When all the smoke cleared and the shotgun shells quit flying, eight out of 10 kids had killed at least one bird.  One of the youngsters who didn't get a bird missed several times and the other had too many turkeys in range at once and a good shot (one that wouldn't kill several hens, too) never really materialized. 

However, even an "unsuccessful" turkey hunt is a memorable experience.  Turkeys flying up to roost, non-stop gobbling, turkeys fighting and calling, deer sniffing turkey decoys at only 15 yards and all the other sights and sounds of time spent in the woods is worth the price of admission (although there is no fee to participate in these hunts, other than the required licenses or permits).  Killing a turkey is the ultimate goal but a successful hunt is often about more than the end result.

For many of the participants this is their first

exposure to turkey hunting so everything is new.  A parent or guardian is required to tag along and oftentimes they learn as much or more about the experience than the child.  And even just the time spent together as a father and son or daughter or mother and son or daughter is special.  It's good to slow down, breathe easy and relax in an ever-changing, fast-paced world and just enjoy the moment.  There's no better place to do that than the great outdoors.

   

To find out about special hunting opportunities for species such as waterfowl, deer and turkeys, check out the KDWPT web site at www.ksoutdoors.com. 

"SPRING" TURKEY SEASON

Spring is here....or so they say.  My front yard looked like an ice skating rink and trees buckled and broke just two days ago when the Kansas spring turkey season opened.  Rain, sleet, snow, ice, hail and BIG north winds.  Ouch.  I'm guessing anyone who went Wednesday morning has a BAD case of turkey hunting fever. 

I opted to wait until the weather moderated just a bit.  I'm all about enjoying the morning as much as killing a turkey.  Turns out this morning was above average for enjoyment, but not so much for shooting a big ol' tom.  I'd still give the experience a 9 on a scale of 10. 

It was 29 degrees with light winds when I met a friend who invited me along on a hunt on the edge of the Flint Hills.  We bundled up like we were deer hunting in the winter, rather than turkey hunting in the spring.  Coveralls, stocking hats, gloves and the works weren't too much.  As we readied our clothes and gear we heard the first gobble of the morning.

And it wouldn't be the last gobble, either.  The creek bottom had no fewer than a dozen different gobblers and they were hammering as it got light.  Two pairs of geese cruised low at different times, honking the whole way and it was a natural-sounding symphony some would pay money to hear.  A handful of deer had a front-row seat and listened intently.

We'd call occasionally and the birds would answer.  But the gobblers had plenty of female company and when they hit the ground they went three different directions.  Unfortunately, none of them were our way but we could still keep tabs on them with their occasional calls.

We kept calling and started to get a couple gobbles that sounded as if they were moving our way.  It wasn't long and a half-dozen black spots emerged down and across the bean field from where we sat at the far edge. 

"I think they're jakes," my buddy whispered as he got his binoculars up.  "Yep."

I'm not opposed to shooting a jake but I like for them to put on a show.  If a young tom acts like he owns the joint and comes in strutting and gobbling then that's what I pay to see and I'll punch one of my tags.  These jakes were like the 3 Stooges times two.

They would run towards our decoys in stages and stop.  As another eased by the entire group would take off like a bunch of kids heading towards the lunch line.  It didn't take them long and they eased up to our decoys only 15 yards away.  Blankly and blinking, they stared at our decoys, several of them displaying a weak attempt at a half-strut. They reminded me of a bunch of teenage boys at a middle school dance staring across the gym at a cute girl trying to get up the nerve to go talk to her. 

We let the jakes ease back off in the direction they came and started calling again.  Several series later our calls were met by a short, but thunderous and deep gobble.  It was getting closer and he popped out near where the jakes first entered the field.

"Now we're talking," said my buddy looking through his optics.  "That's a big ol' bird."    

He strutted and gobbled and started our way.  He was about halfway across the field to our location when three hens entered the field straight across from us.  They had the six jakes in tow now and the king of spring was having none of that and took off after the hens.  Our optimism turned to pessimism and bad words to boot. 

A  north wind made our seated location a bit chilly, but we stayed put as we still heard birds and the others were still within sight.  Deer passed within easy rifle range and a few even got into bow range before smelling us.  We called in two more jakes who acted as squirrely as the first bunch and they, too, got a free pass. 

We decided to get up and chase a distant gobble we'd heard earlier.  Trying several more locations to no avail we made one last stand on a creek bottom.  Although we could hear hens calling in the timber we never heard another gobble.  As I walked out to get my decoy, my buddy got my attention and pointed behind us across the creek.  Two toms, one in full strut, and two hens were less than 150 yards away and they never made a sound as they walked behind us heading away.  We watched as a coyote had the same dinner ticket idea we had and circled them.  The birds never moved an inch and simply watched the curious canine with heads stretched high.

We tried to get ahead of these birds but when they finally saw us they had a much different response to a two-legged threat.  They got the heck out of Dodge.  We decided it was time we do the same and called it a day shortly after lunch.

The only thing I returned home with was a bleached-white deer skull (I'll use it for coyote trapping this fall), an antler tip I picked up hoping it was lucky (it was not) and a fuzzy, slightly out-of-focus picture of a nearby doe. 

Despite not filling a tag the morning was a success and I can't wait to do it again.  I'm just hoping spring actually does arrive and I can dress accordingly.     

 

  

WATER WOES

Not that it's any big secret...but drought sucks!  Just ask anglers, hunters, city water supplies, farmers and numerous species of fish and wildlife.  The last couple years have been a struggle for anything or anyone that utilizes or relies on adequate precipitation.  Although recent snows and precipitation have helped, the state of Kansas as a whole has a long way to go.

Reservoirs in Kansas have suffered dramatically over the last few years.  Inadequate rainfall and record-setting heat throughout the summer have dropped them many feet due to evaporation.  Others have multiple users with city water supplies and irrigation removing even more water.  Throw all of it into the mix and you've got a recipe for the worst water conditions we've seen in some time in parts of Kansas.

Boat ramps are high and dry.  Low water levels in the winter and summer can cause massive fish kills.  And if you can access some reservoirs getting from point A to point B can be an adventure, and not always an excellent one as it's treacherous at times. 

But as hard as it is to say, drought isn't ALL bad.  Wetland managers have had ample time to control cattails and disc pools to encourage moist soil plant growth.  Dense stands of smartweed and millet provide tons of seeds which are like M&M's to migrating waterfowl.  Fisheries biologists can create and place brushpiles in areas accessible to both bank and boat anglers.  Park staff have been busy removing years of silt from some boat ramps and around loading docks.  Low water levels have allowed much work similar to this and more in some places. 

Drought it nothing new as history can attest.  And as always, there's an end in sight, maybe even something to look forward to.  Some of the best years of fishing have followed extended drought conditions in reservoirs.  Exposed shorelines have erupted in woody and shrubby vegetation and when the lakes fill up again this habitat will provide excellent spawning areas for various sportfish species.  More, young-of-the-year fish will survive with adequate escape cover and places to hide from predators.  Drought-stricken lakes recently filled are much like new ones first impounded and the fishing that follows can be phenomenal. 

And one of these days we will get rains again and lakes and reservoirs will return to conservation pool.  I've been doing a rain dance most days in recent weeks with hopes I can soon launch my boat on some of my favorite waters.  But as my wife can tell you, I can't dance and got married so I wouldn't have to anymore.  Here's hoping Mother Nature takes pity on those of us who are rhythmically-challenged and takes care of it herself.     

MEANINGFUL MEMORIES



Rodger 3/31/56-2/23/13





A friend of mine passed away recently after a lengthy battle with cancer.  Rodger was an avid outdoorsman who loved to hunt and fish.  He was only 56 years old.










One of the few times I didn't get stuck in the middle
Rodger (left), Jim (middle) and me


I first met Rodger about two decades ago.  Another friend, Jim, introduced us and over the years we all spent thousands of hours chasing fish and fowl.  Being the new "kid" on the block I was often relegated to the middle of the blind or boat which was mostly fine by me.  I simply watched and learned and appreciated the opportunity to tag along.



Our trips broadened in scope and 10 years ago the three of us went to Saskatchewan to hunt ducks and geese.  We had a great time and there was plenty of laughter along the way and memories made that we still talked about for years afterwards.  We cooked goose meat 17 different ways and quickly grew tired of deploying and picking up 600-700 snow goose socks morning and evening for a week straight. 

Rodger (left) and his son, Matt, compare fowl

It was shortly after our return from this trip that Rodger's doctor would discover he had a brain tumor.  But Rodger continued enjoying the outdoors as often as possible, despite painful treatments and medication. 

Rodger's son, Matt (left), Jim (middle) and Rodger limited out and laughing

We talked often during his illness of a cast-and-blast vacation in Louisiana.  We wanted to hunt ducks in the morning and fish for speckled trout and redfish in the afternoon.  Jim made it happen three years ago and the three of us loaded up and made the 12-hour trek to Hackberry Rod and Gun Club.  Rodger looked forward to it as he'd never seen the ocean.  It would indeed be a memorable outdoor road trip.

The duck hunting was great and lunch was even better.  Authentic gumbo and banana pudding were the norm and a quick nap and we had plans to fish.  Unfortunately, Rodger wasn't feeling well enough to get out the first two afternoons so we relaxed in camp.  But things worked out on our last afternoon and we had a wonderful fishing trip.  We all caught limits of big redfish and some nice speckled trout, flounder and other assorted species.  The weather was beautiful and the fish Gods shined on us.  For three land-locked Kansas boys we were livin' large.       

One cool cat with two goofy hats!

Rodger is gone now but memories from trips like these and countless others are etched in stone in the back of my mind. 





Rodger was a devoted husband, father and friend.  We all figure God needed a duck hunting or fishing partner so He called Rodger home.  So here's hoping, Rodger, that the view of the outdoor world from your new seat finds all the greenheads cupped and committed and the walleye fat and hungry. 

So long, friend.

You will be missed.