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.

Brookies in Jefferson County

After meetings at Fort Drum and Jefferson County Extension yesterday, I slipped away for a few hours in the afternoon for some Brook Trout fishing. Had 7 on, four of which I landed, all decent fish. Caught 'em on a little terrestrial imitation of the black flying creatures that were dining on my forehead. Felts Mill Creek is a very pleasing pastoral bit of water, and 15 minutes from the extension office.

Welcome Izzy

Beer camp has a new member as of 5-7-09 and her name is Izzy. She is a small yellow lab, about 55 lbs., that Carol found through a dog rescue program in the Rochester area. She is between 6 and 8 years old and very well trained already. She comes with an existing dental problem that lead to the removal of 14 teeth earlier in the week but it appears she is handeling that well as she is eating good and shows no signs of discomfort. hopefully this will give her a soft mouth when it comes to hunting. She is very alert to birds and small animals in general. Carol is thrilled to have a dog back around the house and we look forward to enjoying her for a long time too come.

Geneva firearms auction May 9

for those of you with money or curiosity or both . . . Hessney Auction House is having a big gun auction in Geneva, NY, this Saturday, May 9.

Here's the link to the catalog listing on the web: Lots 1 - 400 are guns and decoys; lots 400 - 1200 are army surplus.

Lot 262

Great Shad Fishing Adventure of 2009

Fishing was slow--Lou caught 2 doinky little shad and I caught, as my friend Rob says, "fvck all". A comedy of errors: Fri aft Lou picked me up from the bus from NYC--we rushed back to the motel, got gear ready, and were ready to blast off to the river. Checked boat trailer lights--nothing. The aft fishing degenerated into trying to trouble shoot the trailer: checking wires, connections, etc. Cussin' Pete and Reigel the whole time for the trailer still not working right. Of course, Fri pm at 6 no real place is open, so we got to know the folks at Walmart automotive real well. Jen was kinda cute with her horse tattoo 'n all, and I did get one classic line from her:

"we don't really have any tools here".

Nice.

Finally got the bright idea to find a Lowe's (up in Port Jervis) with a utility trailer parked out back. We plugged in Lou's truck to the trailer. Nothing. A problem with the truck, rather than the trailer. Sorry Pete, sorry Eric.

Choked down a truly crappy dinner at Apple Valley (never again), had a couple of beers and fell asleep exhausted. Next day, by God screw the trailer, we were gonna fish. And we did. And not much happened (see above). Except that the motor wasn't running so well. Seemed to not be getting gas, and some disturbing white smoke. Middle of the day, Lou cut out to go to the NAPA store to get a new relay converter box for his lights. We fished until dark with one small shad that barely fought.

Back to the hotel with a pizza. Let's work on replacing the relay box. Yeah right.
His wiring system had 5 wires, this box had 4. No biggie says Lou--we'll just cut this red one. Say WHAAAAT? And the helluva it was, it actually worked. Triumph!! Boat loaded for the morn, ready to go--THIS TIME, we're gonna kill 'em. On the water early. Full of coffee and hope. Load the boat, stow the gear, and...yank the starter cord on the outboard. A lot. Nothing. Smell of gas. Lots of gas. Hmmm...gas dripping in the river. That can't be good. Open the cowling. Squeeze the pressure bulb. Hmmmm...why is gas spraying all over the inside of the motor every time the bulb is squeezed? Seems to be coming out of that little crack there...

Checkmate. I told Lou it took me back to being 8 yrs old and wanting so badly to fish while my grandpa screwed around with machinery---lesson being that these things never work right.

Thus endeth the great Shad expedition of 2009. Better luck next year?

Lou--who is currently all geeked up on Springsteen because he is playing State College (!!!) on Friday night, made the following changes (6 letters only!!) to his classic "Badlands". To wit...

Shadlands, you gotta live it everyday

Let the broken hearts stand

As the price you've gotta pay

We'll keep Fishin' till it's understood

and these Shadlands start treating us good

I guess we have to go back!

More misadventures in backyard varmint shooting

Reynard meets his demise

Sluiced the first fox of 2009 yesterday. My daughter Sophia had spotted him while she was doing her homework on the kitchen counter. This one was tricky because of the tough angle he initially presented through the swingset. I also had a tough time setting up into position on the back mudroom steps because of my gunshy lab getting in the way.

Finally he moved away from the swingset, and I put a bead on him and fired away. He flipped over, but incredibly came back to life, got up, and started walking away with our less than one year old camper directly behind him.

I waited for him to clear the trailer's tires, with the knowledge he had but five feet to crawl off into the bushes. I figured the bullet would go through him and end up in the ground under the camper somewhere. So then I shot him a second time, and he was down for good.

Unfortunately these Federal Nosler tips do a hell of a lot of damage at 60 yards (or 600 yards for that matter), and when I arrived at the scene of the crime there was fox blood, guts, and tissue sprayed all over the side of the camper. What a mess.

And of course, in the five minutes it took me to get the hoses connected to clean it off, the little bits and pieces of fox gore had all baked hard and dry on the camper walls in the late afternoon sun. I didn't have a scrub brush so I used my fingernails.

What's more, is that of course all of our garden hoses had decided to crack over the winter, leaving me with an intermittently but nicely watered lawn along the hose path and severely depleted water pressure at the hose's end 100 yards from the house. I can tell you now that cleaning dried guts with reduced water pressure is like using a squirt gun to wash three day old dirty dishes.

Twenty minutes later the camper was clean and I was resolved never to shoot a fox in front of the camper again.

kids don't try this at home

Didjya hear?

Newsflash.

Doctor Richard C Stedman is negotiating with Riegel Marine for Naval Fleet Expansion (from 0 frigates to 1 frigate). Apparently the cut and pasting has gotten under his skin and now we wait in breathless anticipation for the HMS Authentica.

Preview below.

Ernie smelled a rat . . .

and here we have conclusive evidence of the real truth of the weekend's trolling.

fish Cagey claims to have caught

Spring Trolling

With frozen hands,

tossed around on Cayuga's cruelest April waters,

I wallow in prehistoric pike snot, smelling of my youth.

Whenever I twist longnose pliers to treble hook shank, my grandfather is near,

although I never called him "grandfather".

Cagey meanwhile soldiers on, defending our shores and loved ones

from the German immigrants, more democratic than the natives,

as they bring the depths of the lake up, up, up

into the towns, forests and fields

during the uncertain verb seasons.

Steelhead Weekend

This past weekend a few Grousers kicked off the 2009 fishing season with some Steelhead fishing on a Lake Ontario Tributary called Sterling Creek. The photos and video below tell the story.





























No Grousers gathering would be complete without some low level argument about something. Rich and I hashed over the reclassification of Steelhead. To wit, the following from a NOAA web site:

Until 1988, steelhead (the anadromous form of rainbow trout) was classified in the genus Salmo along with Atlantic salmon, brown trout, and several western trout species. With additional osteology and biochemistry data, biologists have now reclassified steelhead as members of the genus Oncorhynchus. The reason for this is that new information suggested that steelhead are more closely related to Pacific salmon than to brown trout and Atlantic salmon. As such, the American Fisheries Society - American Society of Ichthyologists Committee on Names of Fishes voted unanimously to accept Oncorhynchus as the proper generic name. For full scientific details, see Smith, G. R., and R. F. Stearley. 1989. The classification and scientific names of rainbow and cutthroat trouts. Fisheries 14 (1): 4-10. As such, the scientific name of steelhead was changed from Salmo gairdneri to Oncorhynchus mykiss. The generic names of the golden, Mexican golden, Gila, and Apache trouts were also changed to Oncorhynchus. Since all of these western trouts including steelhead are biologically capable of repeat spawning and do not die after spawning, it has been suggested this group be called the Pacific trout.

It was a great weekend of fishing and grousing.

COYOTE UGLY

I caught this big male crossing a field on the Canoga Creek Conservancy the other day. Since the season is open and I happened to have a .223 in the truck, I decided to take crack at him. He was about 200 yds out, but the 55gr full metal jacket found its mark. He ran to the edge of the field and it was all over.

See you in the field.

Eric

More off season- Changes

Instructions for this post. Play the You Tube clip, and then continue to play other sounds clips over the You Tube Clip. Have fun.































Ok...so I am on the lookout for change. So far nothing on the gun rights front. However, on the beer swilling front, Change has Come. Leave it to the Canuks to take the lead first. Get this.

Tiring of my regular "Blue Flasher" Labatt's Beer, and being a closet hip-hop fan, I could not resist trying the new offering from Labatt's called "50." You know, like 50 Cent. You know, I just wanted to "Crack a Bottle," feel my Slim Shady, an all dat.

Well, Change has Come. As I was swilling, cold chillin', like a ruthless villain, admiring my fizz, my gaze was drawn to the label on the bottle. New hip colors, classic shape, then "WHAT!?" (Say it like Flava Flav, now!). You know where its supposed to say 12 Fl Oz ? (that means 12 f#*%n' FULL ounces, yall!) Well, guess what? It don't say 12 Fl Oz. Somebody pulled some CHANGE on the people. Somebody up and CHANGED the rules on me and my crew. It says 11.5 fl oz. That's right. That means someone is "redistributin'" the wealth, you know what I'm sayin'? For every case of 50 I buy, I am gettin' ripped a beer. Who do you think is getting that beer? The MAN is, that's who. Guess who the man is NOW? Uh-huh. That's deep. That's Canada, socialist, beer thievery deep. Good thing the McKenzie brothers are with Molson. Yo, I got yer stimulus package...

Just A Lil Bit - 50 Cent

Waterfowl Hunter's Party at KUNEYTOWN!

Sellin' tickets now.

For more see www.ducks.org/whp

rumors of a birthday

everyone should give a big ol' grousers high five to none other than Dr. Dirt, who turns [cough] forty two today.

You know, he used to have hair.

skillfully cropped head shots courtesy of Dr. Dirt

happy birthday Uncle Pete!

Unwanted Celebrity

Had a bit of excitement this week as I was quoted out of context in an AP story that ran in the New York Times. My thanks to the US Fish and Wildlife Service Public Affairs Office for sending the reporter to me for a juicy soundbite. JOSH.

heh heh

The misquoted statement made me look like a complete sociopath and prompted hate mail including the following:

While reading the online article about the 11 year old boy who shot his stepmother and her unborn baby, I came upon your ridiculous quote. This quote sounds as if it is coming from a serial killer not a college professor...not that teachng "environment philosophy" qualifies you as a professor. You are a dangerous person to be projecting your warped views onto age 20 something students.

After reading your quote (below) many times and I can't help but come to the conclusion that you are the biggest horse's ass on the planet. One thing is for sure you should not be around young people.

"Life exists at the expense of other life. You have to kill in order to live," said Jim Tantillo, an environmental philosophy professor at Cornell University in New York, who is also a hunter.
"There's just something very honest about owning the responsibility for the life you take. When you pull that trigger, you know something's going to die," he said.

There is something about hunting that I don't quite understand. You put on your gear, pick up the latest high powered killing machine, take your family and beer....don't forget that....we are doing the macho bonding thing...and you blow a hole in the side of an sentient animal that wishes you no harm. If you want to go the male bravado route...why don't you put your gun down and head for brown bear country and fight one one one with a larger more challenging animal? You don't need philosophy training to see that men who hunt are looking for validation or something that makes them feel manly or in control. Hunting deers isn't it!

Hopefully, you will lose your tenure at Cornell over your lack of good judgement. I seriously hope you are a person who likes to create sensations by talking out of your ass and really don't believe your dangerous quote.

In the interview with the reporter, Ramit Masti, we were talking about vegetarianism, not homicide. The actual quote was, and I have recited this almost verbatim in every talk I've given and hunting-related publication I've written for the past ten years :

"Alfred North Whitehead wrote that 'all life is robbery.' Life exists at the expense of other life. You have to kill in order to live, whether you are pulling carrots or pulling the trigger on a deer.

"In contrast to vegetarianism, there's just something very honest about owning the responsibility for the life you take [in hunting]. When you pull the trigger, you know that something's going to die."

Anyway, I asked for a correction and/or retraction, and an apology. The Associated Press issued a "clarification," and the reporter apologized for the poor editing.

So although there's still a chance that I am the biggest horse's ass on the planet (discuss), I guess all's well that ends well.

¿quien es mas macho?

I want one of these for snow geese . . .

4 Shot Massacre- Snow Geese on Cayuga

It was a day of reckoning for the tundra destroying Snow Geese. Eric and I invested a few hours in patriotism and civic duty to rid the world (management or sport? Discuss.) of excess Anser caerulescens caerulescens . The first hour or two of the hunt looked doubtful, but the beautiful weather made it down right enjoyable to be back in the blind. Our patience was rewarded as we observed the borg-like "mind " of a group of thousands of snow geese "decide" to move south into our cove. The collective consciousness of the snow goose borg soon enveloped the intrepid hunters and it was all we could do to fend off the invading horde. Alas, after two shots each, a fair number were mowed down and the main body retreated.

Nick had his work cut out for him retrieving the near-shore birds, while I, in typically imbecile fashion, rowed around the middle of the frigid lake sans life jacket or other safety equipment, practicing naval maneuvers on crippled and escaping snows. I managed to get most of them.

It was an epic excursion, and memorable in many ways. Check out this link for photos of the cove full of snows the day before. It was the same this day, once they finally moved in. What a deafening cacophony, and a sight to behold.

Vicar is a frickin' genius

Mouse puppets and 800-yard shots at elk

Who would have thought mouse puppets would be such a crucial issue to the survival of hunting as we know it? More Ballet Boy getting under peoples' skin at the Fair Chase blog. for what it's worth.

Ritual....

Woke up a few minutes ago and, in a moment of 2am clarity, performed hari kari on a silly post. Whatever the link, my mind wandered to thoughts of ritual, actually, the ritual killings by my beloved Dayak of Madurese transmigrants in Borneo in the 1990s and early 2000s. In a semantic haze, I am struggling with the role of ritual in our hunting activities. I suppose Jim's "sport" emcompasses the concept of hunting as a ritual activity, but I have never been comfortable calling our "structured activity" "sport." There are so many aspects of individual and cultural ritual in hunting that bring to it transcendent meaning that I just don't tie to sport. I would think that Cagey, with his classical training in anthropology, would be able to help me here. Isn't sport too narrow?