Category Archives: Two Cents Worth
Things to do …and in a nick of time!
By now, some have sorted the socks in their drawers, counted toothpicks, separated hackle barbs by thickness and played enough catch with their hunting buds (mine’s Seamus) that even the dog is bored. Luckily, there are things to do this weekend that will keep you indoors and out of the wind chill we all keep hearing about every time we turn on the news.
Every Saturday at the Royal Oak Orvis store, from now until the end of April, there is a free seminar from 11:00 – noon about some aspect of fly fishing. No reservations required.
The Ultimate Fishing Show is now open at the Suburban Collection Showplace on Grand River, in Novi. The show runs thru Sunday. The Michigan Fly Fishing Club will have their Kids Fly Tying booth, that teaches kids to tie flies. I’ll be there Saturday 2 – 6, tying with the kids.
For those of us that need diversion, these are a good places to go …just don’t turn on the news or you’ll want to climb back under the covers to keep out of the cold.
See you there.
TD
Category Archives: Two Cents Worth
Who says, ice fishing is a solitary sport?
With the wind howling and sending chills down your spine, it’s time to suck it up and put on layers of clothing until beads of sweat form on you brow. It’s time to head for ice, (preferably solid ice) drill a hole and jig up some walleye, gills or perch.
In years past, going out on Anchor Bay was like moving into a new neighborhood. Shanties of all kinds – everything from hi-tech to home made – dotted the open space on the bay and stayed until their mandatory removal in March. Truly a town, “shanty town” springs up almost overnight and shares the ice with iceboat races and dads teaching their kids how to handle a car on an icy surface. (Chains were the in thing way back when.)
The bay has changed somewhat since the introduction of zebra mussels and perch aren’t as plentiful anymore …of course, there are exceptions, but once you’re on the ice, a strange thing happens; you’re not as cold as you were when you thought about going ice fishing. Just being with the crowd of ice fishing enthusiasts transforms the mind to a pleasurable state that doesn’t look for excuses to hide from winter …Ok, a flask helps.
TD
Category Archives: Two Cents Worth
No, I didn’t fall through the ice!
Last week, a 72 year old man went through the ice on Intermediate lake. He was rescued and survived. The cabin is on Intermediate Lake, and so I received several inquiries as to whether or not it was me that went through the ice. Let me put peoples minds to rest.
First, I am not 72 years old; I many look like a cave dwelling hermit, but getting to 72 years of age is still on my “bucket list.”
Second, I’m still smart enough to know when there are more open spots than spots that look as though they’re frozen, I don’t want to be the first to make tracks on the perceived ice.
Now let’s talk about something important; I need (want) a power auger …and I’m open to suggestions. Couple of things to consider: I’m cheap and because of that, I out-think myself all the time, causing me to do without until I have an epiphany on the matter.
Thoughts are welcome.
TD
Category Archives: Two Cents Worth
A New Year resolution or wishful thinking?
I’ve thought about going camping lately. I’m not sure why, except it seems to go with wondering thoughts about wading a trout stream, slowly working downstream with tandem tied wet flies – being careful not to cause too much upheaval of the bottom that causes debris to get to where the trout are before the flies do.
I haven’t camped in a tent in years. When I say years, I mean at least 30. Camping was fun when I did it with a group or at least one other person, but lately it just sounds wonderful thinking about camping alone.
There was a time when snow and cold were nothing more than an inconvenience; now, they’ve become an obstacle. I don’t like being cold …and just seeing snow makes me shiver. So my camping will be relegated to setting up a shanty on the lake in front of the cabin with a small heater, a thermos of coffee and a sandwich or two. Of course, a flask is a must.
If I make any New Year resolution, it will be to take some time and travel the Upper Peninsula, camping along lesser known streams fishing for brookies. It will be in June, when the only inconvenience will be black flies.
Ok, back to daydreams.
TD
Category Archives: Two Cents Worth
“What do I have to do, draw you a picture?”
There is camouflage and then there is a white and liver colored Brittany running across a snow dusted field 6:30 in the morning. Though the moon provides some light, if it wasn’t for the crunching sound of Seamus running, I’d never know where he was. Of course I could put his bell on him, but the neighbors might think Santa was coming again and either put out the fire in the fireplace or get out their shotguns, hoping to avoid more Christmas bills.
Finally getting Up-North, the day begins with the exuberance of the little Brit pawing me to get dressed and head outdoors. Like “She Who Must Be Obeyed” says, “What Seamus wants, Seamus gets.”
The lake shows signs of freezing, but the edges are still open water. I hear around Cadillac, some adventurous types hare braving ice to get out on small lakes and claim fishing right now is great. I know they’re right, but having gone through the ice on Lake St Clair, I’ll wait until I see someone twice my weight on the ice.
This trip isn’t about ice fishing, it’s about getting in the last few days of grouse hunting of the season and Seamus knows it; he’s hanging around me like I’ve got bacon in my pocket. He’s doing everything he can to let mw know he’s ready.
Stay tuned.
TD
Category Archives: Two Cents Worth
New tricks for an old dog!
Just when I thought I had the latest and greatest gadgets, my kids gave me a GoPro for Christmas. I’ve seen the story on 60 Minutes about the founder of the GoPro cameras and saw what they can do – be strapped to a person or animal and record digital footage of wherever they go; skydiving, swimming, hunting, etc. (Just to be clear, no one is ever going to see footage of me skydiving, but floating down the Jordan, Au Sable or other trout stream, is another story.)
These gadgets are small. In fact, they’re about the size of a matchbox your grandfather used to carry to light his cigars. They are in a waterproof case and have a lens the size of a nickel.
Of course, this new compact hi-tech piece of equipment has a learning curve on how to use it. It comes with a manual …about the size of the camera. It’s probably not as complicated as I think, but between my out thinking myself and trying to read the manual …well, suffice it to say, this could be a “two fingers of bourbon” job.
Stay tuned!
TD
Category Archives: Two Cents Worth
Pine knots mean fragrance indoors!
Before manmade fire starters there were pone knots. Pine knots are the resin filled knots formed at the junction of a branch and trunk of a pine tree and linger long after the tree dies and rots. They can be found by pulling a protruding branch from a downed pine tree and stripping the rotted wood from the knot. What’s left is a soft, resin filled piece of tangle-grained wood.
Back when people found and cut their own wood, pine knots were gathered to both start a fire and create a wonderful fragrance indoors that mimicked the smell of the pine woods. It was said, “A man with a basket full of pine knots, was a rich man indeed.”
TD
Category Archives: Two Cents Worth
Stop teasing me and load up the car!
I think Seamus has figured out that we’re heading North for one last go at bonasa umbellus after Christmas. Everywhere I go he’s there: following so close when I stop he runs into me; or lying at my feet when I sit, usually touching me in some way. It’s been almost a month since we’ve been in the woods and for this time of year, that’s an oddity. It’s time for the both of us.
This will probably be the last hunt …unless some kind soul invites me on a rabbit hunt over a brace of beagles, because my thoughts have been wondering to wadding in the Jordan, trying to outwit brookies. I’ve been tying flies for the opener and a couple of grouse skins will help.
It’s funny how repeating yourself , tying the same flies in the same patterns you’ve been tying every year for the past 40 or so years, turn into new patterns as it takes a few to get them the way you want them. This year, I’ve decided – probably because I’m getting more and more set in my ways – to stick to what I’ve identified as staple, basic patterns that produce for me fairly consistently, and are made with fur, feathers and yarn. In other words, if a pattern requires something that had to be chemically made, I’m going to avoid it. We’ll see how long that goes.
At any rate, the countdown is on until the trout opener in April. Only 124 days to go!
TD
Category Archives: Two Cents Worth
You never know when a memory is being made!
“She Who Must Be Obeyed” has a plaque above the archway to the den that says, ‘You never know when a memory is being made!’ It’s just one of those knick-knacks you buy on the spur of the moment because it sounds profound at the time, or cute or ballsy. This one struck a chord because of the grandkids.
Those of you who have grandkids know that having them around is like opening a family album and reliving old memories – memories you’ve forgotten or at least don’t think about often. When the grandkids are around, they turn back time to when their parents were them and sometimes it’s an eye-opener for me of just how mellow I’ve become; things I’d have been up-tight about then, don’t faze me at all now …maybe it’s because I know they’ll be going home at some point, or maybe it gives me pleasure to watch their parents squirm like I used to.
Memories are made all the time – some planned, some not – some just so memorable they make a lasting impression. As you get on in years, memories become important: They are a time capsule of your existence …a mark you leave on someone.
Last month I took my grandson, Josh, into Orvis. I showed him the fly rods and instinctively he went right for the H2s. (At 10 years old, he already has good taste.) Of course, there is no way he’s getting a $795 rod. The fact is however, he already has one, he just doesn’t know it …and won’t for some time yet.
When the time comes, when he gets the rod, it will come with memories; I just hope I can remember to pass them on.
TD
Category Archives: Two Cents Worth
Funny how your mind works!
I wrote this piece after the shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Connecticut. The recent lawsuit by parents of some of the children killed brought this to mind.
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Christmas is strained this year. It is hard for me to wrap my mind around the concepts of peace and charity while watching funerals of children on every news program I turn on, including those 250 miles up north. After all, Christmas, for me anyway, has always been about children.
Seamus and I went on our last grouse hunt of the season a couple of days ago along the banks of the Jordan. It wasn’t a particularly good day for a hunt, but it was a chance to get out one more time and Seamus needed to run and hunt. It was rainy and the woods were wet and Seamus was soaked before we had gone very far but his bell worked and he was as excited as a puppy playing with a grouse wing.
The woods were eerily quiet. After a while I consciously noticed the absence of chirping birds, rustling squirrels and was surprised we hadn’t jumped a rabbit, even by accident. I chalked it up to the dampness and came to the conclusion they were holed or nested up. Seamus didn’t mind, I doubt if he even noticed, he was just glad to be there doing what he figured he was supposed to be doing.
Seamus hunts in a crisscross fashion that turns into a circle if grouse are hard to find. Occasionally he stops and looks up to see where I am then continues. This day was no different. We covered a lot of ground, some familiar, some not so familiar and we found ourselves deep into a section that was too dense earlier in the season to penetrate but now that the ground vegetation had died out and trees were barren of leaves, it was easy access. Seamus led the way and I saw no reason not to just follow. I tried to stay on a ridge as he worked along the bottom. It was a pleasure watching the little Britt having a ball.
The surroundings became familiar again as we reached a half grown-over trail that wasn’t wide enough for a car, but wide enough to have served a purpose years before but I couldn’t tell for what. The trail just sort of appeared then disappeared, leading to nowhere coming from nowhere.
A few hundred yards along the trail, dab smack in the middle, stood a seven foot spruce. Twenty feet beyond stood another spruce, this one slightly shorter. The trees were the only evergreens around, almost as though they were planted and looked perfectly pruned. They would have made a perfect Christmas tree in someone’s home. Seamus of course didn’t notice the trees beyond sniffing around and under them for scent of grouse and kept on with his business.
I must have stood there admiring and thinking about the trees too long because all of a sudden I realized the woods were completely quiet ….no bell. Seamus found something and was on point. I looked for the liver and white silhouette frozen stiff, but I couldn’t see him. I didn’t want to whistle him off, so I waited, listening for the thunder of wings as bonasa umbellus took flight to escape Seamus. A few seconds later, almost the same time I heard the grouse make his escape, Seamus yelped like a beagle. There were two. There on the other side of the ridge, behind a cluster of scrubs, Seamus came out, nose to the ground hoping for more.
I caught a glimpse of the second grouse but I didn’t bother to raise the 16 gauge double I was carrying. Maybe it was because my mind went back to another Christmases when I saw the trees I came across. Maybe it was the thought of the children in Connecticut, whatever the reason, shooting at the grouse didn’t occur to me.
We hunted two other places where we usually find grouse; few were there, but Seamus was hunting and that was the intent of the trip.
The ride back to the cabin and “She Who Must Be Obeyed” was quiet. Seamus jumped to the front seat of the Jeep and despite his being wet I let him stay; I appreciated his company. The hunt was his gift, his being there was mine.
TD