Tori scores in the Brook trout department

Father's day outing

Adirondack brook trout bliss

bobbers, worms, and smiles

Charlotte's First Brookie

On a recent May trip to the ADKs for brookies and turkeys, my youngest, Charlotte, nailed her first brookie, casting a Mepps Aglia from a canoe on Black Pond near Paul Smiths. She was thrilled; daddy couldn't have been more proud.

The annual May 'Daks trip usually yields pretty good catches of trout, but with the heavy winter and crazy spring flooding, the creel was lighter this year. We did catch some very nice fish in the North Branch of the Mooser River Drainage, and of course, I caught a few on Black Pond, as is to be expected there.

The turkeys wouldn't cooperate, though I did voice-call a nice Tom away from two hens with Mo and the girls with me, to 10 yards...but it was after noon. He was SOOOO dead, at least in all of our imaginations. It was cute to hear Charlotte and Victoria whisper "bang" every time he stuck out his neck and gobbled thunderously. Next time.

Ice fishing- an alternative to QDM

A few risk averse land lubber grousers [ ;0] opted out of a day on the ice. Ya'll were missed... T'was a nice outing. Yet, as much as I missed the "low banter" of "sense of place," the distinctions between method and methodology, the merits of merrily shooting mercury infested waterfowl, and the inherent dangers to culture and society of being selective about the bucks one shoots, there was a distinct pleasure to be found in the solitary, slow jigging for one's dinner. No booze, no cigars--just a strong North wind and 5 inches of ice under the ironic comforts of 10 pound pac boots. And dinner was pickerel and perch.

Eric brought his daughter Danielle, Gary his daughters as well. see the Kuneytown blog for pics of the kids taking great pride in the catch.

Maine Waters

Last weekend we took the boat out on one of the many lakes in the area - Boyden Lake - for a little swimming, fishing, and picnic supper.


the serenity was only disrupted by the danged bald eagles cruising the skies and landing in the big pines along shore.

First off, Collin got a hit on his Spiderman rig too strong for him to hold onto, so I assisted.

He was pretty proud of the smallie we landed; it went backinto the depths. The perch began to hit, and pretty soon Angela caught another bass, about a 2-pounder.

A friend had mentioned fishing the drop-offs for white perch, so we went armed with worms. The fishing became very good as the sun dropped; it was hard to quit.

Now, there's a keeper!

We kept the decent sized perch (10.5-12 inches), which I filleted that night. There must be a High Life commercial about cleaning the catch... Cagey?

Heavens, they're tasty! Only hitch is the state gov has a consumption advisory on most species of warm water fish, so we end up sneaking in a couple tilapia fillets for the kids.


The perch came fast -- you could hardly keep a line in the water. Great fun for kids of all ages.

Fortunately I didn't have nav lights on the boat, so we had to quit fishing and head for the landing. Otherwise, I'd still be cleaning fish today.

Post yer Kids Fishing over Memorial day Weekend!!

Here's mine... this was Friday. There will be more if the weather holds. Click here for more of the story.

Report from Deep Creek Lake

Today Leah caught her first fish, and her second, third, fourth and fifth. She didn’t want to leave the dock, she didn’t want to go to bed, she didn’t want a snack. She wanted to catch MORE FISH.

Earlier in the day after numerous unsuccessful attempts to lure the big bass with hula-jigs, crank-bait, kastmasters, spoons and sundry tackle tossed to the far corners of cover, we found that just dunking a worm off the dock nailed the bluegill.

Leah, with her brand new purple Shakespeare, pulled up a nice little bluegill. Being the princess that she is, she instantly grabbed the fish and yelled, “Cool!” After a quick release, she ran to get another worm. Add, rinse, repeat.

Jonah was getting a bit pissed at this point because he was trying the same technique in the same location without success. Unfortunately, dinner time was called and everyone went up. I stopped Jonah after looking at his face and realized it would be a very bad thing if we went up without getting him some much needed piscatorial satisfaction. I told him we’d stay behind to take care of business.

Jonah kept at it with me at his side. Lots of little bluegill nibbling the worms away, but nothing taking the hook. Another worm refresh, another dunk … WHAM! … something bigger takes the bait. I’m jumping up and down because I see there’s a nice smallmouth on the line. “A bass! Jonah, you got a bass!” Jonah is focused, concentrating, his face showing something not joyous, but … determination. He reeled and kept the line tight, the tip up. I continued my moronic semi-skip around the dock (no doubt freaking the fish out even further), but just as Jonah brings the fish up, it spits the hook. Jonah looks devastated.



No matter, I tell Jonah, let’s keep at it. Like a trooper, indeed, like an angler, he ignores history and experience and lets hope guide his hand back to the worm bucket. The fish gods smile down and five minutes later he lands a nice bluegill. This no consolation prize in his mind, he is ecstatic and triumphant. The fish goes to the kitchen for some butchersome filleting by my hand, but balanced out with a perfect fry with butter and garlic salt. Jonah eats and proclaims it good. The circle is complete.

p.s. I later sneak out to the dock to try for something a little more meaty. Five casts with a spinner jig thingie into the lake and I pull in two-foot northern pike. No one to witness it, so I do the mature thing and secure the rod, run to the house and tell EVERYONE to come outside and view my trophy. Jonah snaps a photo before it self-releases. Really, this thing was 3 feet if it was an inch.

p.p.s. Remind me to tell you of my monster Minocqua Muskie sometime. Rich, Julie and Carol still think I was lying.

Dispatches from the Arnot Ponds

...where the bluegills are as big as your head!

Happy Memorial Day, all...

Tori scores bullheads

...with a little help from George!

Kill the mommy

Well, I’ve been surreptitiously reading the blog for awhile now, usually under the guise of the missus (I like that kind of ambiguity). So, tonight I took the plunge, did my homework and figured out how to resubscribe to this here service. Fancy.

We spent a few weeks in Arkansas over June, visiting the in-laws and hanging out with phosphorus folks at a conference. Twas our first great American road trip, with all kinds of firsts. One of the highlights:

Kendall and Clayton caught their first fish, in a pay-by-the-pound catfish pond. Kendall wielded her Barbie pole with great skill, landing a 4 pounder, then, after apprising her success, ran off to the swing set for more exciting action. Clayton pulled in a 2 pounder on the Superman rod he received for his birthday from Hannah and Cam (now named the “Spiderman” rod, as Clayton has eyes for Spiderman only). We left with but four fish, which suited the family fine as few of the in-laws eat ‘em. The kids quickly named them: Daddy Fish; Mommy Fish; Older Sister Fish; Younger Brother Fish.

At home, when I announced it was time to kill the fish, Clayton wailed in protest. This can only go badly I remember thinking. I extrapolated to a much older Dirt family of rabid, anti-hunting vegan children. All because I killed those catfish on that fateful evening in Arkansas, June, 2007.
So, it was with some trepidation that I allowed the kids to join my father-in-law and me in the ritual of impaling the catfish on the quickly fashioned filet board (paint splattered 1x8 with a rusty 10 penny nail protruding from one end). I started with Daddy Fish, since he was by far the biggest and undoubtedly the one for which the kids held least sympathy (if their sentiments toward fish families paralleled their feelings for their own parents). They were fascinated even as I completely butchered the butchering job. In the end, five small filets from the Daddy fish were piled where two should lain. It was the dull knife, honest.

The kids were even more fascinated when I pulled out Daddy Fish's entrails and poked at its sacks of roe. “I guess this one was a mommy, not a daddy” I pointed out. Were the children's eyes wide with amazement or were they wide with disgust that we had killed a beloved mother and certainty that they would only eat at the Moosewood from now on? With that inadvertent blunder, I decided to make the adventure a little more participatory.

“Which one do we kill next kids?”

“Kill the mommy” blurted Kendall.

“Yeah, kill mommy” cried Clayton with all the enthusiasm of a young carnivore reaping the rewards of his first fish.

And kill the mommy I did.

Ain’t that sweet?

BC Hunt Club Goes North

Well a few members of the BC Hunt Club made their yearly trip up north to Big Jims island for our traditional "Opening of Bass season/ Fathers day" celebration. This year we had a couple of members join us on this trip for the first time. Robert and Mason Thompson joined us and along with Big Jim gave us a fishing lesson. To the right of the dock is the old run about boat with a my 8hp motor that they used. To the left is Jims "Yellow Bananna" boat, as Mason called it, with a 40hp motor and trolling motor that I and Bob Henderson used to do our fishing. You will notice which group had the best fishing luck.

That smile on Mason's face was plastered there the entire weekend. He was a fishing fool the entire time running from the dock, to the point, standing in the boat, and in general casting his line constantly. I've never seen a kid take to fishing like Mason has. The feaver must have been hot because the third day after they returned, yesterday, Robert showed up at home with a new fishing boat in tow. Looks like Jim has gotten another family on the way to the poor house with the fishing feaver.

Other new members are John Casper, who worked with Jim and I for many years, along with his son Jessie and, soon to be, son in law Brian (no shirt) that came along for the festivities. While they didn't catch as many fish they did have some quality ones, as you can see.

Don't worry none of these fish were returned to the river harmed from being out of the water to long, in fact they wern't returned at all but rather they were the guest of honor at dinner Saturday night.

Kevin and his buddy Nate also caught a few good fish along with a nice Northern Pike to add to the dinner fare.

Oh well a good time was had by all and it was a lot of fun to watch. I for one will enjoy the memories of this fathers day for many years to come. Thanks to Jim for a great weekend, Mother Nature and God for the outstanding weather and fishing luck, Mason for making me laugh so much, Robert for being the great father to Mason that he is and the way he has raised him to listen to and obey adults , John and his gang for helping with the cooking and cleaning, and especially to my son Kevin for letting me be his Dad and enjoy experiances like this!