The Poison Fish.

 

Longnose Gar Fish

A Question from a reader…   Is a garfish good to eat?  Some say they are.  

 

         Answer…   There are four species of gar in the Midwest but only one is the scourge of Ozark streams. That is the long-nose gar, which wasn’t seen in the clear clean Ozark rivers a hundred years ago. Now they are thick in some of our best rivers, something of a leftover from prehistoric times that just outgrew the slow muddy waters along the Mississippi. They eat small fish of all species.  

         Ozark streams are full of long-nosed gar, which often grow to five feet in length and up to 25 or 30 pounds.  Some will tell you that anything you can cook is good to eat.  But I wouldn’t go through the job of skinning a gar to eat one.  I have tasted the meat and it is passable.  But then I ate so much fish as a kid I am not a big fan of any meat from our fine finny fish friends.  The best fish I have ever eaten came from the waters of the small mountain streams of Colorado where you catch 10 to 12-inch brook trout with either very light short rods or fly rods.  Those little fish are so good to eat I could never get enough of them, when fried in a skillet right alongside the small creeks where they are found or anywheres else.  Comparing gar meat to a fried brook trout is like comparing mud pies to chocolate cake.  

         Gar and paddlefish are good eating for many, but to me they are not anything worth bragging on…. just not all that good. Why would anyone eat a gar or paddlefish if they can get any of the other fish that are found in the same waters?  Gar are so numerous they harm the spawning waters of other more desirable species.  Bow fishermen and giggers who kill and dispose of gar and carp are doing fishermen a big favor although you can, if you work at it, make them edible.  To me, eating a gar is like going into a bakery and passing up all the donuts and cake and pie and having them fix you a biscuit!           

         Here’s more advice from my expert experiences eked from an environmental existence and ecological education… ANY fish meat you eat should have ALL red meat removed.  That red meat really does give fish an undesirable taste.  But I have been told that red meat is a source of good fish oil, which is desirable for humans. Yuck!!! My advice is, do not eat gar, throw them up on the bank for the coons or bury them in your garden to make good fertilizer.

         While it might be something I ought not to write about, I guess that gar-eaters need to know that gar are spawning through June and the eggs of a gar are poisonous to mammals, of which humans are one of… mammals that is.  If they are eaten, gar eggs will kill cats and dogs, raccoons and possums, and even people.  My dad loved the fried fish eggs of bass and goggle-eye. I am glad mom never knew that gar eggs were poison!  A little humor there. I can see a problem arising with that knowledge, as cats would easily eat those eggs. I doubt that dogs would, and while I don’t know this, I am sure a while a raccoon would eat most anything; they surely have been endowed with the knowledge that gar eggs are to be left alone.

         Anyway, the local sheriffs in the Ozark should know to look for a gar carcass around any Ozark home where some old boy who is married has died a suspicious death.

 

 B Second reader question… Are you putting out new books this year?

         Answer… Yes.. We have one coming out in a month or so entitled… “The Buck that Kilt the Widow Jones… Short Stories about the Outdoors and the Ozarks.”  We will mail that book out about the beginning of August I think.  The first 100 will be numbered and inscribed to the reader and autographed.  To get on that list contact my office.  Two other books, “The Life and Times of the Pool Hall Kid” and “The Justice of St. Clair County” will be ready in December, for Christmas Gifts. There are eleven now, all shown on www.larrydablemont.com

 

 C Third reader question… Would you write about the new tick diseases going around sometime? 

         Answer…. I would, but my daughter Lori, a physician who doctors faculty and staff at Missouri State University, has written a very complete article for my summer magazine, which tells more than I know about tick diseases.  If you get a copy of that magazine you will know as much as she does I suppose.  New tick diseases, like ‘alpha-gal’ disease has been deadly at times and renders healthy people violently allergic to red meat.  If you contact my office you can get that magazine for only postage costs.  But they will be sold out by August.

 

 

         If you need to talk with me, call my office at 417  777 5227 or email me at lightninridge47@gmail.com.  Send letters and questions to me at P.O. Box 22, Bolivar, 65613

 

 

An Odd Duck

 

       I watched as a mother wood-duck crossed an old road high on a ridge top, closely followed by three ducklings which I am sure had hatched that very day.  She was a good quarter-mile from the river, but intent on getting the young ducklings there as quickly as possible.

       Wood-ducks are odd ducks, because they nest in hollow trees rather than in a marshy, reed-covered wetland habitat as other puddle ducks do.  But what is odder still is the fact that very often, that hollow tree is far from the closest water.  Sometimes an old hen will nest close to a pond or river or lake, but often the tree she chooses is on a hillside or ridge, and she has to lead her young ones to water over a good distance of dry land. 

       That hollow in a tree might be 20 feet above the ground, sometimes more.  The ducklings hatch there and spend no time at all inside the cavity where the mother has laid her eggs.  They get dried out, and fluffed up, and then are fixated on the hen, who often is flying in and out, coaxing them to leave the hollow.  They hop up to the entrance and leap out into the great unknown with little hesitation.  I have watched them do that, and they actually appear to be trying to use their tiny little wings, but to no avail.  It seems they just tumble beak over tail feathers to the woodland floor, and it doesn’t hurt them at all.  They have no body weight.  

The hen waits ‘til they all get out, and in the nest cavity above, there may be some unhatched eggs left behind.  That nest may contain the eggs laid by two different hens, perhaps up to 16 or 18 eggs or even more. Once in North Little Rock, Arkansas, I witness a traffic slowdown on a busy thoroughfare while a wood-duck hen hustled at least a dozen little ducklings toward an Arkansas River slough that had to be a half-mile away.

       It was puzzling to see the hen last week being followed by only three ducklings.  That’s about the smallest clutch I have ever seen. It could be that some others were lagging back a ways, but usually they are all right with her.  Those ducklings which lag behind are usually doomed.  When I was a kid on the Big Piney river, I actually saw a wood-duck duckling only a day or so old, and slower than his brood-mates, disappear in a massive swirl on the surface made by what I assumed was a bass.

       We hate to look at it this way, but there is so much waste in nature when you are talking about the young of those creatures that are given the ability to reproduce well, like rabbits and mice. But it really isn’t a waste.  The young of those species cannot survive in huge numbers.  They are meant to be food for the predators, which have to also survive. One group, the eaten, has a high reproductive potential, while the other group, the eaters, have a high biotic (surviving) potential. The creatures which survive well do not produce huge numbers of young, while the creatures which do not survive well produce big numbers of offspring.  It seems as if there was a great scheme to it all, doesn’t it?

In our eyes, a weasel pouncing on a young chipmunk, or a raccoon feasting on the eggs he finds in a quail nest, or a hawk pinning a young rabbit to the earth, represents the ugly side of nature.  But there is no evil there.  All things fight to survive, predator and prey alike.  And in the end, where man hadn’t upset things with overwhelming land change, the whole system worked.  Not so much anymore.  Desirable creatures in the woods or in the water are becoming scarcer, while undesirables, often non-native, seem to be thriving.

       It is likely that those three little ducklings will not all survive.  Some mink will eat one perhaps; maybe some gosh-awful looking snapping turtle will pluck another one from the surface of the river.   But maybe not… maybe they will all three make it and I’ll bag one of them this fall as I hunt the river, grown to a beautiful mature drake.  And if I do, I will enjoy a wood-duck dinner, making me no less evil than a weasel or a turtle or a water snake.

       While heavy rains doom the quail and turkey chicks, the wood-duck ducklings are not at all fazed by a cloudburst like we have been having.  A rivulet filled with a torrent of rainwater will not soak the duckling’s feathers.  They will just be carried more quickly to the awaiting creek or flowing river where they will thrive and grow.   If it had been me doing it, I would have given those same water resistant feathers to the quail and turkey poults!  And I would have the mink and the hawk and bobcat eating grass and acorns and berries.   I wonder why God didn’t think of those things?

 

 

       I once shook Harry Truman’s hand, and I have to admit that I was impressed with him, even though I was only about 6 at the time. He was there dedicating a new hospital and he bent over and told me my pants were unzipped! Now there was a man who cared enough to do something about it, when he saw a problem.  I do quite a bit of public speaking and I always check my zipper beforehand.  I can therefore say in all honesty that I often take Harry Truman’s advice in my daily life. 

       I also liked Ronald Reagan a lot. I can’t remember much about his presidency, as the hunting and fishing was extremely good back then and I was in the woods quite often, somewhat confused about current events.  But I really liked him in those western movies he made after he got out of politics.

 I have read some things about Teddy Roosevelt that makes me think he was a lot like me, since he liked to hunt and fish so much and float rivers, and did some outdoor writing.  I never floated the Amazon like he did, but then he never floated the Piney and the Gasconade and the Roubidoux like I did. He and and I looked very much alike too. But of course my favorite president will always be Abe Lincoln, who had two things no president or even presidential candidate will ever have again… he was poor, and he was honest.  Earlier in my life I too was poor and honest, and as a matter of fact I am still relatively poor, and I am being honest about that! 

       My favorite politician was Davy Crockett.  He and I were so much alike that it is just amazing, except for the fact that he did get into politics, becoming a Tennessee congressman.  My cousins and I watched him on Walt Disney when we were kids, and if you think I wasn’t influenced by him, you should know there is a big sycamore along the Big Piney river with the inscription carved in it.. “L. Dablemont kilt a squarl here.”    There were no bears in the Ozarks when I was a kid, which wound up being an unfortunate thing for squirrels which I came across.

       Crockett was loved by his constituents, just as I am loved by my readers, except for a few ladies who got mad about an article concerning female bass being fatter than male bass.  Crockett was for the downtrodden and forgotten poor country people he grew up amongst.  That is the way I am!  He sacrificed his political career to stand against legislation which would take land away from the Creek Indians. It was land which the government had promised to them through treaties only a few years before.  That makes him a better man, in my mind, than anyone you will find in congress today.  He was honest, and he thought of others before himself, and he would not put money above all else. That too is the way I am. Those traits are not found in people in political office today. I left politics never to return when I ran for eighth grade class president and was beaten by Nolan Don Akins 28 to 1.

       Crockett said, “to heck with politics if it means I have to go back on my word”, and he rode off to Texas and into history where, as I understand it, he went down fighting a bunch of illegal immigrants from Mexico.   I would have loved to have fished and hunted with Davy Crockett, or Abe Lincoln or Teddy Roosevelt, and would love to vote for someone today with just a whisker of their character.

       It is true that I have a picture of me and Hillary Clinton, taken back when I lived in Arkansas, but it was her that wanted it took, not me.  She was one of those ladies that read my column and wanted to learn more about hunting and fishing. And for a short time I had a basement office in the capitol building and her husband was the attorney general. There was nothing between us, and all those rumors are just nothing more than idle gossip.  So we fished together on occasion, that don’t mean nothin’! In the picture, I really did look a lot like Teddy Roosevelt, and she looked a little like Eleanor Roosevelt.

       When you look at things today and hear that the presidential election is a dead heat and both fellers are apt to get 50 percent of the vote, then you realize what a bad shape this country is in, if you get my drift.  I wish we still had a ‘Whig’ party in this country as they did once.  I might vote for a Whig if he was for the poor and honest, like I am.

 

If you would like to read my summer magazine, or order one of my eleven books, call my secretary at 417 777- 5227.   Or you can email me at lightninridge47@gmail.com.  You can see a photo of me and Hillary Clinton by getting on my facebook page.  See if I don’t look a little bit like Teddy Roosevelt back then.

 

When the Director Came to Visit

 

photos from the flooded winter backwaters of Truman Lake, 40 years ago.

         John Hoskins and I became acquainted in the 1980’s, when he was a regional supervisor for the Conservation Commission Enforcement division over southern Missouri.

         He came to my home in the foothills of the Ozark Mountains in north Arkansas a couple of times. We sat on my back porch on those occasions, drinking coffee and discussing a poaching problem; in which Arkansas hunters would take two bass boats from the Arkansas side of Bull Shoals up into the Missouri side poaching deer from a management area known as Quincy, where there were also a few elk. 

         In the fall of the early 1970’s I would be out on that section of the lake and hear the bull elk bugling.  It was a wonderful music to me, knowing what it was, thinking about those majestic creatures living in the forests above Bull Shoals. The poachers could spotlight a big grassy bottom and kill nice bucks there late at night, and they also killed all the remaining elk by the early 80’s. Hoskins and his wardens talked a good game but they never apprehended anyone there.

         When I moved back to southern Missouri, in 1990, John Hoskins and had become the director of the Department of Conservation. I contacted him and asked him to go out on Truman Lake with me and look at a couple of places where I thought the MDC, now flush with money, could do some great things for waterfowl.  He agreed and we got together once again in my boat out on that big lake, which has 118 thousand acres of public land on its watershed.  I took him to a place known as Hogle’s Creek, and with my education to become a waterfowl biologist, he knew I knew what I was talking about when I showed him how the land adjacent to the mouth of the creek and meanderings behind it could become a great waterfowl marsh, a refuge for waterfowl and also a duck hunters paradise by simply building small levees and planting food for all kinds of wildlife.

         Hogle’s Creek already was a great duck hunting spot back then in the early 90’s.  Most of Truman was.  The low areas filled with vegetation like smartweed brought waterfowl in by the thousands when only small rises in the lake occurred. Hoskins saw the possibilities, and I showed him a gently sloping bank where lespedeza and some native grasses, with thickets of sumac and persimmon, gave them nesting cover and escape cover. Before we left the lake that day, Hoskins thanked me for showing him what I had, and he agreed that my proposals were sound, but then he lamented that there wasn’t enough money to do it.

         I was stunned… the department had tens of millions, due to that 1/8^th cent sales tax that every Missourian paid then and pays now. They are one of the three richest Conservation states in the nation. Money is often diverted to ex employees and other.  Over the years they have wasted millions.  

         Hoskins was forced to resign years later after the MDC was sued for one million dollars as a result of two agents breaking the law and lost!  On the day he left office, he gave a close friend by the name of Gary Turner one hundred and forty-five thousand dollars as a down payment on a book on rivers to be put forth in years to come. As I have been told, Turner was never an employee of the Department.  Twenty some years later, that book has not been done.  The State Auditors office called me and asked me to look into it, but that was of no value. She criticized the payment as unethical and beyond the law, but that criticism was squelched in the news media. By that time the newspapers using my weekly column were being aided by money from the MDC and most would not use my column if it criticized any part of that agency. As for the rivers book, I had already written one entitled “Rivers to Run…Sycamores, Swift Water and Smallmouth Bass”.  It is a 350-page book that has been called the best book ever written about the natural history and descriptions of Ozark Rivers.  The MDC has never mentioned it and will not sell it in their nature centers.

         I will write much more about Hoskins and directors before and after him, plus a proposal to bring back the greatest quail huntin in the Midwest in a 50,000 acreage on that public ground around Truman lake; in my summer “Lightnin’ Ridge Magazine”.  I also will be writing about that excessive 18 million being paid to a private company to rebuild the Shell Osage waterfowl area and the waterfowl marsh they built free-of-charge for a St. Clair county Judge. 

         That magazine also has a great article on tick diseases written by my daughter, Dr. Lori Dablemont Cohen, working now as a doctor for Missouri State University.  Every person who might get a tick bite this summer should read that article.  If you want a copy of that color 100-page magazine, call me at 417 777 5227.  You can also order my books or back issues of that magazine off the website www.larrydablemont.com.  All my writings and photos can be seen weekly on www.larrydablemontoutdoors.blogspot.com and you can email me at lightninridge47@gmail.com. 

         

For the Birds

 

             LITTLE GREEN HERON ON THE BIG PINEY RIVER

I spoke to a college ornithology class about birds a few years back.  I think my talk went over really well except for my woodpecker recipes.  I myself have had a great fascination with birds since I was very small.  I wanted to grow up and be a waterfowl biologist as dad and I floated the Big Piney River in the fall, sneaking up on wood ducks and mallards and many other species of wild migrators. John James Audubon and I had that much in common.  He loved to study birds, and he actually killed and skinned and stuffed hundreds and hundreds of birds, so he could study them closely. Modern day bird-watchers don’t like to hear that.      

When I was a kid, I didn’t care much for school.  I couldn’t get outside enough, drawn to that greater classroom. Birds drew me to the woods and the river year round, watching various species come and go according to the season. Once a kingfisher lit on our blind as we floated the river hunting ducks.  He was perched there only for a few seconds, a couple of feet from my face.  I found a book which told all about them, how they nest in tunnels back into the river bank, and the nest is so filled with fish bones it appears they might be using them to shore up the tunnel.

The little green herons that were so numerous along the river in the fall always fascinated me, they didn’t appear to have any green on them whatsoever, but rather a purple, rusty color, a mean look in their eye and more patience than I could imagine.  As we would float along, you’d see one of those ‘shikepokes’, as Grandpa called them, at a shallow spot, intensely staring into the water, as still as a statue.  They might not move a feather for five minutes or more, and then when the time was right they would strike with lightning quickness, and come up with a small fish or minnow.

 I am no less fascinated by birds now, and have developed a bird sanctuary here on Lightnin’ Ridge, in the heart of the Ozarks.  It is a ridge-top of big timber, old growth oak-hickory woodlands, and there is a tremendous variety of birds here.  Right now I have a pair of Baltimore orioles which likely have some eggs in a sock-like nest somewhere close.  They are large, beautifully colored birds, black and orange and white, and they love grape jelly. You can put out what you want, but orioles love that jelly above and beyond anything else. You see them for about a month, and hear them chattering in the trees in the back yard, but then they are gone.  Behind them comes the secretive rain-crows, or yellow-billed cuckoos, which are heard a great deal, but seldom seen in those high white-oak branches where they nest. 

Lightnin' Ridge Rain Crow

    Bluebirds nest in the boxes I put out for them, and a pair of mockingbirds nest each year in a cedar and redbud thicket behind the garden.  Brown thrashers nest in something called an almond bush. Blue grosbeaks feed at the feeders, similar in color to indigo buntings, which we have a lot of also. The grosbeaks are a little larger than the metallic blue buntings, and have rusty wing patches.  There are fly-catchers, wrens, kingbirds, summer tanagers and rose-breasted grosbeaks. In a little wet opening in the back of the woods, I saw a woodcock mother with tiny chicks a couple of years ago. There are several species of woodpeckers and two big pileated woodpeckers can often be seen right out of my office window.

Lightnin' Ridge Blue Grosbeak

We no longer hear the chuck-wills-widows and whippoorwills calling at night. Both are pretty sure bets to flirt with extinction soon.  But there are screech owls, and barred owls on my wooded ridge and all summer long it is easy to call them right up into the oak branches next to the porch.  It is also easy to call in the bobwhite cocks which run around in circles below my screened porch, beside themselves with excitement, whistling their heads off, looking for that hen that isn’t there.

You are welcome to come sit on my porch with me and drink coffee or tea and watch the birds. It might be noted, and often is remarked about by visitors, that Lightnin’ Ridge is sort of an unkempt place at times, with unmowed grass a little too high and raspberry thickets allowed to grow fairly close to the house.  But then again, no one ever complains about hearing the music of so many different kinds of birds. I don’t know how anyone lives without birds, certainly I never have, and will not.  I have been told there’s lots of money in clearing your land, selling the logs and putting in acres of grass to feed herds of cattle.  And I have been told the craziest thing in the world is someone who thinks he is rich because he has a forest full of wild birds all around his house.   There are lots of ways to be rich.

Arm-Chair Fishing

 

       

My daughter, Christy, with a nice crappie

         About an hour before sunset I maneuvered the big pontoon boat across the wide and windy waters of Stockton Lake. I found a good spot of calm water out of the wind, off an eastern-facing bluff. I stretched a rope between two trees sticking up out of forty feet of water.  I have done a similar thing over the past forty years in Bull Shoals, Norfork, Beaver, and Truman lakes.  I could write a whole book about those nighttime trips in which many species of fish have been boated.  

         It is fascinating what happens at night from that pontoon boat with submerged lights radiating a bright glow from beneath the boat.  I had food and coffee and a bed arranged in the back of that covered big camp-style boat.  I would spend the night there.  A big cooler with ice in it most often gets filled with fish by one or two in the morning.

         But there I sat that night on Stockton, watching the little water creatures swarm around my light while darkness settled.  By ten o’clock, there were swarms of tiny gammarus, (fresh-water shrimp) clouding the water around the lights,  with small fish only an inch or two long.  I had my rod setting there beside me, with a live minnow on a hook, 26 feet beneath me.  Nothing had touched it for an hour and a half.  On the bank, a trio of young coons came by and passed, searching for an easy meal. A heron flew by and squawked at me. I thought I heard a whippoorwill across the lake.  They are rare anymore, especially this early.  In the distance, a boat motor roared past.  The Coleman lantern hissed a little, and insects began to swarm around it, so I turned it off, no light now above board.  At 10:30 I still hadn’t had a strike and I was getting sleepy.  The sleeping bag seemed more attractive as each minute passed.  I got up and drank a cup of hot coffee as the night cooled… put on a jacket too.

         I wasn’t going to sit there fishless much longer!  Seemed as if it would be one of those nights.  Maybe I would climb in the sleeping bag, which one of my fishing partners jokingly refers to as a ‘fartsack’, sleep a couple of hours and then sample the waters beneath the light again.  Then about a quarter to eleven, it happened.  The tip of my rod bobbed ever so slightly and the taut line beneath it slacked just a mite.  I grabbed it and set the hook and the resistance below me told me I had a crappie.  He stayed right beneath me, as crappie do, and I lifted him up to admire a 13-inch black crappie which meant that the sleeping bag would wait a good while.  

         Five minutes later, with a fresh minnow dropped into the depths, I was wide awake and holding on to my light action rod, when I felt a slight jolt.  Another crappie, this one a little bigger than the last.  I put him in the ice chest and nailed another, then another.  By midnight, there were seven or eight crappie flopping around on the floor beside me.  I just didn’t have time to quit baiting a hook and bending that rod, as I fought the results of a crappie school beneath me.   Then a fish nailed the minnow hard and headed for the main lake.  White bass do that, and you know what it is when you have hooked one beneath the lights. White bass really outdo a crappie and it took a couple of minutes to tire him.  He was too big to lift aboard.  I netted him and admired a two pound female white bass that was full of eggs in early May.  Weird, but that’s the way it is.

           Often you will catch egg-laden whites that should have spawned up some tributary back in April.  But there are those that stay out in the lake and spawn on rocky points or perhaps not at all, reabsorbing eggs for some reason or another.  We could discuss scientific reasons for that but not tonight.  Tonight by 2.a.m I have my limit of crappie and none are less than 12 inches long.  Two are 15 inches in length and most between 13 and 14 inches.  In that ice chest there are a dozen white bass and none are under two pounds. I threw back smaller ones. A couple of them exceed three pounds.

           There is also a 19-inch walleye.  I realize that if I keep fishing I might land another walleye, maybe two.  But the fart-sack will be warm.  It is easy to drift off to sleep with the slight bobbing of the pontoon boat in gentle waves.  Just after first light, the noise and the waves of a passing motor boat wake me up, but so what, I will sleep longer and wait for sun rays to hit the pontoon through the fog.  There are some cinnamon rolls and warm coffee to heat up on the camp stove.  If there was room here I would tell you about the stripers caught in Beaver Lake beneath the lights, or the big trout we use to hook in Bull Shoals, or where you catch the night-crappie in Truman Lake.  I would love to tell you about the threadfin shad that only exist in Arkansas waters.  What a bait they are when you fish beneath the lights.  I use to catch many species of fish there on those threadfin shad, including a 16-pound walleye a partner landed on night in May of 1975.

         But you can learn about all that in my book “Recollections of an Old-Fashioned angler, a 288-page book about 70 years of fishing experiences. That book or any of my others can be ordered from the Internet, www.larrydablemont.com or you can call my office, 417 777 5227.  E-mail me at lightninridge47@ gmail.com.  I urge readers to read what I have written lately about the Missouri Department of Conservation, which cannot be printed in newspapers.  You can find those columns on www.larrydablemontoutdoors.blogspot.com.

The River… Diversity

 

 

 

          The best time of the year to take a two- or three-day float trip is during early May, if you  can plan around the high water and thunderstorms this time of year.

         It is usually warm enough during the day for wading shoes, but you need dry clothing and a jacket during the evening hours. There are many migrating birds to see, some nesting eagles and wood ducks guiding their ducklings to cover as you pass. In the spring, fish begin to hit a lure just as well during the middle of the day as they do early and late.  And if you set a trotline baited with live bait, you will have a good chance of catching a big flathead catfish at night.  When you float rivers through National Forestland, you can hunt turkeys too. 

         Several years ago when there were still a few gobblers to be heard, I floated a river not far from home in early May and had a great day fishing. I was catching fish on everything from topwater lures to spinner baits. I took my shotgun along, and my turkey call, hoping I might get a young gobbler to answer me.  As we floated along, I'd use the call every now and then, and then go back to fishing.  Along about 10 one morning I picked up the call, stroked it a few times and I'll be darn if I didn't hear a reply in a small field beside us.  I didn't hear it very strong, but it was for sure a gobbler I had heard.

         I got out on a nearby gravel bar and set up in a fringe of big trees beside the field, hid myself well and began to call.  In thirty minutes, they were all around me, two young jakes and several hens. I picked out a Jake that looked fatter than the other one, and a while later, took a photo with a hefty stringer of bass and the turkey, laid out on the gravel bar.  

         If you take a notion to float a river for two or three days in May, make a check list before you go, so you can travel as light as possible and still have what you need.  Don't load up with canned goods and canned drinks; bring a good supply of water and mixes that give you what you need to have good meals.  But traveling the river isn't like backpacking; you have room to take enough supplies and gear to live comfortably.  A light tent needs a plastic cover over it if there should be heavy rain.  Use that cover to protect your gear during the day from any rain.  Take some dry clothes, but not a suitcase full.  Take raingear, a good flashlight and lantern and a camp stove and a camper's cook-set.

         But for Pete's sake, don't tackle two or three days on the river in a 17-foot double ender canoe, the capsize and chaos craft made for going fast and getting wet in. I use an 18 or 19-foot square stern canoe, or one of the paddle johnboats that Ozark float-fishermen use.  If you haven't learned to paddle a canoe or johnboat from one side all day long, you are at a real handicap.  But anyone can learn that with some practice.

         Recently I caught a 16-inch smallmouth, which fought like a tiger, then shortly afterward, a 21-inch largemouth, which gave a short struggle and gave up.  With his length, he should have weighed five pounds, but he was long and skinny.  His head made up seven inches of his 21-inch length.   He was an old male, and I'll bet he was 10 or 12 years old.  No doubt he had accounted for restocking the river with thousands of young bass, but he was too tired to fight much.  Most anglers know that in the spring of the year, it is the male bass that guards the eggs on a bed, and protects the young fry which hatch.  You could see that responsibility had taken a toll on him.

         Sometime this spring, try using minnows the way Canadians fish for walleye.  Use a 1/8th or 1/16th ounce jig head, and a long shank hook, which can be passed through the minnow's mouth, out the gill opening and through the back below the dorsal fin.  If you do it right, it keeps the minnow alive, even though it sounds very uncomfortable for the minnow.  But in such a manner, you can cast a minnow and retrieve it with a light action rod and spinning tackle.  You'll need lots of minnows, as the one you are casting gets jerked off the hook and time and may get fairly bedraggled after 8 or 10 casts.  But on the retrieve, the minnow looks very lifelike and it's deadly for walleye and crappie both.  At least it works very well in Canada.

You can contact me by email… lightninridge47@gmail.com.  I urge you to visit my site… larrydablemontoutdoors.blogspot.com to read a special article there.