Hunting with Mike

Could it be possible that there are no more “Tally’s burgers” in my future? My dad’s old deer hunting “stomping grounds” was Lewiston along with the Avery Hills area, not far from Atlanta. His favorite spot to eat was Tally’s in downtown Lewiston. Of course his six sons were introduced to the famous “Tally’s burger at a very early age, and we all fell in love with those delicious, greasy, burgers! You could hardly open your mouth wide enough to take a bite. A ice cold Pepsi and an order of fries or onion rings and you were in “lunch-time heaven.” You’d walk out of that place with enough protein and carbs. to do three more deer drives before the sun went down! Cause if you didn’t you might sneak back to the cabin and take a nap. We never fooled around Tally’s much in the evening, as it was also a bar, just do lunch or early evening. My dad was a much to serious hunter to be out carousing, when he knew he should be taking everyones money playing poker at camp.

I’ve been seeing far to much of my various doctors the past few weeks, and between them and my wife, they have me convinced “No more burgers!” I go for a heart-catheter tomorrow at St. Vincents in Toledo Ohio. I don’t think they put you all the way “out,” but if they do I’ll probably be dreaming about Tally’s burgers. My family has been praying that all will be well, and I am confident in my relationship with God. If any of you readers are praying people I wouldn’t mind your petition on my behalf. Thanking you in advance.

The picture is of my son Micah and myself, as we patiently wait for our Tally’s burgers.

Mike

How many can relate to this picture? If you are a bowhunter I’m quite certain you’ve “flung” at least one arrow that ended up like my friend Bill Michaud’s. Winter is a great time to visit the outdoor archery shoots held by the various clubs all over the state. On this particular day we were at the Canvasback Gun Club here in Monroe. I had two of my daughters with me, and we had a blast. There’s nothing like shooting under “real” field conditions to hone your skills. On this shot we had the option of trying to sneak one through the bush or lean out around it. I knew it was a “set-up”, but Bill thought he had an opening he could get through. Not! That’s what happens when you make the wrong decisions on an “iffy” shot-good lesson!

This was a 30 target course, and it took about two hours to get through it. The snow was fresh and clean, but we did loose a couple arrows that burrowed underneath it. Once we got back to the clubhouse a “steaming” bowl of chili and hot chocolate were the order of the day! We all teased Bill about his “Pope and Young” tree, and chewed the fat with old friends while we warmed up. All in all it is a great way to spend the afternoon, and practice your hunting skills to “boot!” My kids always enjoyed spending the day like this, and the memories are priceless.

Mike

How would you like to meet this big bruiser in the middle of an alder patch?  This is Fred Bears world record brown bear taken in Alaska many moons ago.  My son Micah is completely dwarfed by the 12 foot tall behemoth.  Gary Reinhardt the owner of Cook’s Sportland knew Fred Bear personally, and had this big bear on display at his shop about 20 years ago.

Bear Archery used to have it’s factory/museum in Grayling Michigan where Fred lived.  One year my wife and oldest daughter (Tara) and myself were vacationing in the area, so we decided to stop an see the museum.  It was a rainy day and not alot of people were in the store/museum.  We were all enthralled by the various trophies Fred had collected with”stick and string” especially my daughter.  We were looking at a tiger mount when who comes strolling through the store, but “Papa Bear” himself!  Tall and lean with a weather etched face, and a twinkle in his clear eyes, he stopped to talk to us!  For once in my life I was dumbstruck.  I was a dues paying member of the “offical Fred Bear sports club,” and my hero was talking to me!  I honestly don’t remember much of what I said; I only remember the feeling of being in the presence of a living legend.  I’ll tell you how discombobulated I was!!  I had my kodak camera with me, and didn’t get his picture!  Duh!  How dumb is that?  One of those big regrets you try not to think about very often.  I do remember Fred was like “plain folks”and wasn’t in a hurry to get away from us.  He was pleasant, and a genuine gentleman.  I do remember he had his signature bolo tie on, and looked like he could “whip” every animal on display, with one arm behind his back.  Fred’s life had an impact on thousands upon thousands of men, women, and children by introducing them to the sport of archery and hunting.  Fred’s been gone for many years, but his legacy lives on through his movies, archery products, and museum (now in Florida.)

Fred’s brown bear record stood for a long time, but presently is number three on the all time archery record list.  His huge brown squared over 10 foot, and had a 28 inch skull, while tipping the scales at 1000 pounds!  What makes this achevment even more special, is that Fred did it with a “Bear”  recurve, and “Bear” cedar arrows tipped with Fred’s famous broadheads!  If you ever get a chance to see the footage on this hunt do it.  It will get you heart “thumping!”  Thanks Papa Bear for the indelible footprints you’ve left on this planet.

Mike

Coyote’s one - hunter zero! I finally had a chance to do some evening coyote hunting, but those brush wolves just wouldn’t cooperate. I had my 22-magnum, and also took along my muzzleloader. It’s still loaded from deer season, and I want to shoot it before it gets much later. I’ve kept it in the garage, as I don’t like the idea of it heating up in the house, and then cooling down again outside. I figured if I got a long shot I’d take it with the smoke stick!

I was out for over three hours, and all I saw was red cardinals and one rabbit. Since I was using the dying rabbit call, the live rabbit could be useful, I thought. I tried the mouse squeak also, but to no avail. If nothing else the scenery was very pretty, and it’s nice to have time to think.

The day after I hunted my brother told me a friend of his has been very successful using a mating call. I don’t have one, but I will check at Cook’s Sportland to see if they have any. He says the males have only one thing on their mind right now, and it isn’t food! Seeing how this friend of his has 25 coyote and foxes under his belt this year; he might know what he’s talking about. If any of you “predators” has any input on this, pass it on. I’m one old dog that “can” learn new tricks!

Mike

This is one of our display boards at our church wild game dinner from years ago.  It is not the clearest of pictures, but that’s brother Darryl, Brad, and myself in the photo.  On the board, just below Darryl’s nice Mio 9-pointer, is his son Derek’s “melanistic” 6-pointer.  I wish I had a clearer picture of this extremely rare deer, and will try and get my hands on a better one.

There are five (5) color variations of whitetail deer, and I bet you can name four of them.  I would be very surprised if you ever heard of the melanistic color.  This variation is by far and away the rarest color found in North American whitetail deer.  Too much skin pigmentation causes these deer to be dark brown or even black.  Derek’s deer is almost pitch black.  As far as we know only a handful of these deer have ever been taken by hunters, and are far less common than albino’s or piebalds.  This deer was  taken in the Fairview area of Michigan when Derek was in his late teens.  At first we didn’t know what he had put on the ground!  Our first inclination was that it was some kind of escaped exotic.  Even the officer at the D.N.R. wasn’t sure what he was looking at.  It took some help from the biologist, at Michigan State University, to confirm the fact that is was  a rare melanistic whitetail.

If any of you readers have  information on this rare color variation I would like to hear from you.  I have only heard of one other melanistic deer being taken by another hunter, so information on them is not readily available.

Mike

This is Justin Kayson and the first deer of his “young” hunting career. You can’t brag about your second, or third,or fiftieth until you have number “ONE” under your belt. Every hunter has special memories about his “first!” It is a milestone of epic proportions! It makes us an official member of a fraternity of brothers and sisters from around the globe. It is a defining moment that is anticipated, to such a degree, that the pressure one puts on his or herself may, in fact, delay the process! I myself my be a good example of someone who could not “get it done” or close the deal! My dad nick-named me “ole no-shooting Mike!” Trust me that moniker did not help the situation one little bit. I came from a hunting family, and yet the game pole was always missing one deer-mine! I earned the expert marksman medal while doing my stint in the army, so accuracy wasn’t the problem-pressure to succeed was! I finally got the monkey off my back in my late twenties, and became an official “big game hunter!” Hunting success seemed to “rain” down on me following that wonderful year of “my first!”

That is one reason I really enjoy being part of a new hunters quest for their “first!” I’ve helped several young men attain that goal, and I’ll never get tired of the backslapping, handshakes, and smiles that come with that first deer. It doesn’t have to be a buck or even “big”- just a deer- a I did it myself “dead” deer!

My hunt with Justin was like that. We were around Marquette in the Upper Peninsula, and staying at my brother Randy’s place. We hunted state property a few miles from the cabin, and I moved Justin’s stand three times before we felt we had the “spot!” Justin had two clean misses (bow) before the fateful third evening of our four day hunt. He met me at our rendezvous point that night, and he was shaking like a leaf as he relayed his story of “I know I got a good hit!” Flashlights in hand we went back to his stand, and I let Justin do the tracking by himself. He needed this experience, and I was just on stand-by in case he needed any help. The big doe didn’t go far, as Justin made a perfect shot through the “pump-house!” I wish I would of had my camera ready when Justin found the deer. His grin was so wide I probably couldn’t of gotten the whole smile in the viewfinder anyway! What a great evening we had gutting, and dragging, and joking, and just taking in the whole “first deer” experience in! It’s priceless, and I hope I’m around for a few more “Justin’s” before the last chapter is written.

Later that evening we fried up one of the back straps and a few “brookies” we had caught, and it is a meal I’m sure Justin will never forget.  He never bought the meat or the fish at the grocery store-he provided for his own great dinner!   It doesn’t get much better than that!

Mike

Can you name this little critter found in the western United States who comes from the squirrel family?  If you said woodchuck your close, but no cigar.  The woodchuck is one of the 14 species in this mammal family of omnivore’s.  If you know it as a yellow bellied marmot you’ve been in the Rockies a time or two.  They sure resemble woodchucks, but are somewhat smaller with their own distinctive features.

It seems that whenever we climbed above the tree line, we would start seeing marmots.  Because they live in colonies, when you see one, you will most certainly see others.  I would often wonder “what in the world they ate” as there was hardly any vegetation where they seemed to gather.  They would scamper for their burrows, among the rocks, whenever I got to close with my camera.

A park ranger told me that the locals call them “Rock Chucks” and also “Whistle Pigs” due to the warning whistle they make when danger approaches.  He said the reason they make most of their burrows, among the rocky fields of higher elevations, is so they can see in all directions.  This allows them to escape from predators thus insuring a longevity of 15 years.  As far as I know there is no hunting season on them, and I’ve  never seen a marmot recipe.  That tells me they probably are not much of a culinary treat!

This is a picture of several smallmouth we took from the Kalamazoo river.  I haven’t fished it a whole lot, but every time I do we catch fish.  Recently I saw an add for 33 acres with Kalamazoo river frontage and a trailer to boot.  It is located in an excellent deer and turkey area, so I called the agent immediately.  Of course I was 3 days late, as he just had an accepted  offer and was closing this week.  The story of my life-a day late and a dollar short!  It would of sure been nice to have my own piece of real estate on the river.

There is a funny story that goes with the guys in the above photo.  Gary Wilson (on the left) is a fishing fanatic, and he’s the one that put this trip together.  He knew the section of river we were fishing like the back of his hand.  Anyway we had a small aluminum boat, and when we came to a 90 degree bend in the river, Gary had us anchor on a sand bar.  There was a small island, right on the bend, on the other side of the river.  Gary said we should spread out, and he was going to wade over to the island, and fish the far side, where there was a deep hole.  The plan was working well, as we all were getting strikes, and enjoying the beautiful day.  Once Gary figured we’d fished this section enough, he gave the order to come back to the boat.  Chuck and Paul Bentley were wading back upstream, and I was already at the boat, when Gary started back from the island.  Gary took a slightly different route back, much to his chagrin!  The water looked much deeper in this spot, and Gary was soon up to his chest, as he joked about his predicament.  Next thing you know Gary disappears, as his favorite fishing hat floats downstream toward the Bentley’s.  Immediately Gary’s clinched fist blast through the surface, trying to keep his spinning rod from being ruined!  We all watch in disbelief as Gary walks on the river bottom for several yards before surfacing to gulp in some air.  I suppose you had to be there to see this humorous setting for yourself.  Try to imagine Mr. Fisherman himself disappearing, his hat floating downstream, as his fist and fishing pole make a wake through the water!  We laughed back then, and I still chuckle every time that scene plays in my mind.  Thanks for the memories old buddy!

“Ride em cowgirl!” This is my granddaughter Nadia, and she is “riding the bull”, as it’s called by fellow rafters. She’s hanging onto a rope, as I sat just behind her, and actually held onto her vest for the bigger rapids. She loved every minute of her “ride” on the mighty Colorado river, and the rest of us had a blast also!

This was my second trip down the Colorado with Whitewater Rafting LLC outfitters. They operate out of Glenwood Springs just a short drive from Eagle Colorado. The very first set of rapids is called “baptism”and it is aptly named for sure! Others are big wave, the wall, tombstone, and maneater just to name a few. I have also done whitewater in Pennsylvania, but the Colorado is a far more impressive river in many regards. When you have time to enjoy the scenery, and your not paddling for your life, it is nothing short of spectacular! I bought a inexpensive waterproof camera, and got some good pictures of our trip, but of course it didn’t have a zoom lens, so every picture was a panoramic shot.

Two of my grandkids (Quinn and Nadia) have gone on this trip, along with my daughters Tara and Alena. My non-swimming wife Lorna (God Bless her) even came on our last trip, but only on condition she didn’t have to paddle. My son-in-laws Tony and Glen, along with my son Micah rounded out our crew. This is a memorable exciting way to spend the afternoon, when your vacationing in any area, where “whitewater” is found. I’m ready for some extreme rapids now that I’ve got some class 4-5’s under my belt! If you’ve ever thought about a whitewater trip by all means “do it!” I promise you’ll not regret it.Mike