Winter's here!

We knew it was going to come sooner or later, but the first snowstorm of the year was still a shock when it descended upon us last night. After a balmy November, I think many people -- myself included -- thought that perhaps Old Man Winter might go easy on us this year.

But, this morning's white landscape and blowing snow clearly told us that the party's over. So, too, perhaps, is my jogging for the winter. I've been wondering lately how I'm going to handle my walking/running program once the snow flies.

I'm still not sure, but I didn't go out this morning. I felt uneasy about trying to run or walk under these conditions. A good portion of my route is on sidewalks and I figured that a good chunk of the sidewalks would not be cleared of snow. Another problem is that there are no sidewalks in some of the places I go, which means running on the streets. And, I knew some of the streets would still be unplowed this morning.

So, the safest thing was to hold off for today. As for tomorrow, I'm not sure. Most likely, I will try walking. I'm hoping for cleared streets and sidewalks. I'm also hoping there are no slippery spots. The good news is we did not have any rain or freezing rain before the snow started. That can be a major problem. I'm glad this storm was all snow.

The snowfall also got me to thinking about the wildlife across the state and how the animals are faring. I remember what a longtime wildlife biologist told me about turkeys (I think the same applies to deer as well) -- as long as they can find food, they'll be fine. Cold won't hurt them.

There's probably more standing corn than usual, so that will be a great help for the critters. What's nice about standing corn is that it is still accessible when there is snow on the ground, even lots of it. So, this winter should be a good one for wildlife. I just hope all of those mature gobblers survive and stay healthy until the spring, when I will go after them once again. I submitted my entry into the Wisconsin spring turkey lottery the other day, as the deadline is coming up tomorrow, Dec. 10. Minnesota's lottery doesn't close until Friday, Jan. 8. But, just to be safe, I submitted my application online today.

In recent years, I have become more passionate about spring turkey hunting (not that I wasn't already) to the point that I now hunt in both Minnesota and Wisconsin every year. For a number of years, Wisconsin was ahead in terms of the quality of hunting and the number of birds.

But, our state has been catching up fast. Last year, not only did I fill my tag with a nice longbeard, I had five different gobblers responding to my calls on the second afternoon of my hunt. It was very exciting, with three of those birds coming into shotgun range. The first slipped in behind me and I didn't know it was there until I moved and heard the dreaded alarm putt as he trotted off. I turned quickly to try and take a shot as he was moving away, but I was too late.

Fortunately, two more birds came in from my right just minutes later and I put my gun on the one in front without either of them spotting me. Interestingly, the second one stayed put after the shot, which is a phenomenon I have witnessed on a number of occasions. I have had birds stay put for several minutes, even after I stand up and start walking toward the downed bird. Amazing!

Seeing multiple toms on a hunt is becoming a more common experience for me and many other hunters. That indicates a healthy bird population. Based on what the DNR is saying, the state's turkey flock is doing better than ever. Can't wait for spring to arrive!

Embracing Montana's rugged beauty

I paused along a ridge in the Little Belt Mountains near Great Falls, Mont. with my oldest son, Joe. It was the day after Thanksgiving and we took a moment to soak in the sprawling scene before us.

Rising up like a crown jewel was the snowcapped peak of Mt. Peterson to our west. To the north lay miles of grassy fields where cows and wildlife alike graze to their hearts' content.

There was a sermon here, not so much in the simple reminder I offered of God's glorious creation stretched out around us, but in the scene itself. The majestic mountains, timber and grasslands glorified the Lord more than my words ever could.

Topping it all off like a layer of whipped cream was a thin curtain of clouds through which the afternoon sun shone like a filtered spotlight. It provided enough rays to illuminate the mountains and fields, but not so much to hurt our eyes gazing directly at it.

This breathtaking scene had the perfection and glow of an oil painting. Partly because of my age, and partly because of my sense of awe and wonder, I traversed the ridge slowly, with many pauses, as Joe and I made our way back toward where we had gotten out of the truck more than a mile away.

There was another reason our steps were labored on the alpine landscape -- we were dragging a mule deer off the mountain. This was a well-earned prize, gained after a short stalk, a much longer tracking effort and, finally, a finishing shot taken more than a mile from where Joe had taken his first shot at this magnificent 3x4 buck.

Hunters are often glad when success comes quickly and easily. It could have happened that way for Joe, but, in the end, I'm overjoyed that we endured generous amounts of hard work, stress and perseverance before finally standing over Joe's first mule deer.

This event capped a wonderful, seven-day adventure for our family of six in Great Falls, on our annual trip to see Bob and Sharon Guditis, their daughter, Jessica, her husband, Jerry, and their three children the week of Thanksgiving.

I felt very blessed to be with Joe as he executed a great stalk on the muley. Though only 18, he has seasoned hunting skills that have come through six years of experience, plus a couple more of observing me as he waited to turn old enough to buy his first big-game license. He has harvested three wild turkeys and had taken four deer before this trip, including a beautiful 10-point whitetail in Minnesota when he was 15.

Yet, he seemed to have suffered a bit of buck fever when he took aim at this buck. We originally spotted it from a gravel road on our way out of the mountains and back into the valley after a morning of hunting on private land owned by Bob, who is the father of my first wife, Jennifer (who died of cancer in 1995), and is Joe's biological grandfather.

The buck was several hundred yards uphill and Joe and I used the contour of the land to make our way up to the deer's level. Joe had led another nice stalk two days earlier with his brother, Andy, and Aunt Jessica that led to Andy shooting a nice 8-pointer and Jessica taking a smaller buck that trotted in as Joe was field dressing Andy's deer.

Thus, Joe was confident he could lead us to a shootable distance. In fact, as we neared the top of the ridge, he motioned for me to hang back before he had even spotted the buck. He knew it was just over a small rise and he tried to get himself ready to poke over the top and take a shot.

He paused and said he needed to calm down. He could feel his heart beating rapidly because he had climbed the hill quickly -- and because his nerves were a bit rattled.

Finally, he slowly crested the hill and looked over. When he quickly ducked down, I knew that he had spotted the buck. He raised his rifle and slowly eased back up. Then, he aimed and fired. He turned to me after the shot and I asked him what happened. He said the buck, along with a doe feeding near him, turned and ran.

I quickly started scrambling up to him. After just a few steps, I saw the head and neck of a muley buck. I whispered this to Joe, who shot back his reply: "Dad, it's not him."

Realizing it was a second buck, I quickly chambered a round in my 7mm rifle and hustled a quick shot at the buck. It dropped immediately and, after a quick inspection to confirm that it was down to stay, we went off after Joe's buck.

The search was stressful and discouraging for Joe, who walked over several small rises without seeing the buck nor any sign that it was hit. Farther down the ridge, we encountered broken timber and a stand of thick brush about the size of a football field. We both realized that the buck easily could have picked a spot to hide here and never be spotted by us. This is a classic trick whitetails often employ.

I could feel Joe's heart sink as he scanned the timber in desparation. Meanwhile, I turned to the Lord in prayer and asked both God and St. Anthony (who has never let me down) to help find the buck.

We continued walking in the timber, then neared the end of the ridge. We reached the edge of the first stand of timber, then saw an opening of about 50 yards before a second strip started.

This was it, I thought. Either we would find the buck here or give up the search. Joe tiptoed ahead, looking across the opening. Then, he ducked quickly and backed up.

Before he spoke, I knew he saw something. "It's a deer," he said.

"Is it the buck?" I asked. He scanned further and said the buck was there. Actually, there was a group of three deer -- the buck, a doe and a smaller buck. The doe was standing still and the bigger buck was coming up from behind, with the smaller buck following along.

I told Joe to go ahead and shoot. He lined up his rifle, but couldn't steady the crosshairs on the deer. He then asked for the shooting tripod that I had brought and I set it up for him. He put his rifle on it, paused and fired. The buck wheeled and ran over the end of the ridge and out of sight. Despite the buck's disappearance -- again -- I had a feeling Joe had made a fatal shot this time.

As we waited to contemplate our next move, the small buck made his. The doe ran only about 25 yards or so after the shot, then stopped and stood broadside to us. In a matter of seconds, the smaller buck came up from behind and seized the opportunity to breed the doe. Joe and I got to witness a rare moment in the lives of deer. We marveled at the chance to see such a private act, then quickly turned our attention to the other buck.

We walked to where the buck had been standing, and Joe soon found a good blood trail. We crested the hill and soon saw the buck bedded at the edge of the timber -- still alive. Joe fired a pair of finishing shots and then we walked over to his trophy.

I asked him what he felt at that moment and his answer was, relief. That's understandable. It was agonizing for him to think that he might lose this buck, especially when it was so close for his first two shots. He estimates the deer was within 100 yards both times. As it turned out, he did, in fact, hit the deer with one of those shots, but the bullet went low, striking the deer in the front leg.

As we talked about the experience with Bob later, he noted that God often surprises us with his blessings, in order that we will walk away knowing he is in charge -- not us.

I couldn't disagree. The trip had several pleasant surprises, which usually came right after we faced stiff challenges. For example, we hunted hard the first two days and got skunked before I finally got a whitetail doe on the third day when we followed a group of does that ran for a while,  then hunkered down in a small ditch on a piece of state land that offered a perfect stalking opportunity.

In the end, it was a successful, enjoyable and glorious week. The same day that Joe got his buck, Jerry shot a big 8-point whitetail, and his 12-year-old son, Brandon, took his first deer, a small doe.

So, seven of the eight members of our hunting party harvested deer. Bob was the only one who did not fill his deer tag. But, we ended up giving him Joe's buck, which we are having made into jalapeno pepper sausage, his favorite.

Tonight, we will celebrate the hunt with one of our favorite wild game dishes -- grilled venison tenderloins. I greatly look forward to that, and also to the prayer of thanksgiving we will say to the Lord before we partake of the harvest from his bountiful creation.

Heartache

For deer hunters, one of the greatest highs is to see a big buck and take a perfect, broadside shot. And, one of the greatest lows is failing to recover a deer that you shot at and hit.

My son, Andy, experienced both on the same day Saturday. Hunting from the same stand where he had hunted on opening day, he saw a nice buck walk out into a pasture at 7:20 a.m. He made a grunt with his voice to get the buck to stop, then took careful aim and squeezed the trigger.

The deer hopped, then ran across the field, jumped a fence and went into the woods. Andy was so excited and confident that he had hit the deer in the vitals that he climbed down from the stand after only 10 minutes and went looking for the deer.

That proved to be a critical mistake. The deer was hit in the stomach and not the vital organs, so it jumped up and ran off when Andy entered the woods. It kept going and Andy never found it. A stomach wound requires a long waiting period -- up to several hours or even overnight -- before recovery can be made.

Andy was just not patient enough. So, he got to experience the greatest heartache of deer hunting. It's the second time this year and third time overall that he has not been able to recover a deer that he had hit.

As a father, I tried to figure out a way to help him deal with it. But, I was struggling with it myself. I really wanted to see him experience the exhilaration of downing a big buck. I was probably as disappointed as he was.

In the end, I just told him I felt bad for him and reminded him that he did the best he could. Sometimes, I said, things just don't work out. Fortunately, we have another hunt ahead of us, this time in Montana.

We should see plenty of animals there, so, hopefully, Andy will get another chance. And, Joe and I should finally see something. I think this year is the first time I have failed to see a deer the entire season. I'm sure the warm weather and standing corn had a lot to do with that. Hopefully, we'll have better results next year.

Who knows? Maybe enough good things will happen out west that we'll forget all about our deer hunting troubles in Minnesota.

Where are the deer?

When it comes to deer hunting, it's always hard to know what to expect when you sit in your stand opening day. I had a feeling this year might be tough, but I never imagined the kind of results that I and my two oldest sons have had.

Between the three of us, hunting on different properties near Red Wing, we saw just one deer all weekend. Andy got a shot at a small, antlerless deer Saturday morning. He hit it, but we were not able to recover the deer. That is always painful.

Meanwhile, my son, Joe, and I did not see a deer all day, or on Sunday. In both places, there was standing corn, and it's natural to conclude that most, if not all, of the deer were in the corn. In fact, when I talked to the landowner where I hunt last night, his comment was, "the deer are in the corn, laughing."

He might be right. We have taken a total of four deer off of his property during the last three seasons and have seen more than that. But, this year, nothing. I'm trying to figure out what's going on, but I don't have any answers. The season where we hunt, Zone 3, lasts until sundown on Sunday. I'm going to call the landowner Saturday to see if his corn is down. If so, I may try to get out Sunday evening. Spilled corn from a freshly harvested field is a magnet to deer.

That will be my last hope for tagging a deer in Minnesota. The good news is, next weekend our family leaves for Montana, where we will spend the entire week of Thanksgiving. I have two tags, one an either-sex license for either a whitetail or mule deer, and the other an antlerless whitetail license.

There are lots of deer in Montana and we saw quite a few last year, so I'm confident I'll have a good chance to fill both tags. And, Joe and Andy each have special youth licenses good for both an either-sex whitetail or mulie and an either-sex elk. Who knows? Maybe we'll be bringing home some elk meat.

One thing is almost certain -- this journey should be more fruitful than our Minnesota hunt.

Hard work and walleyes

I generally don't think of fishing for walleyes as work. No. 1, I don't get paid; No. 2, it's fun!

Yet, on my journey earlier this week to Lake of the Woods on my annual fall walleye fishing adventure, it seemed as though a high level of exertion was necessary to catch fish.

Or, perhaps, more accurately, some persistence was required. Normally, by this time of year, walleyes are pouring into the Rainy River from the main lake in waves, chasing shiners that migrate there every fall. So, it's a matter of picking a spot in the river, anchoring and tossing a jig and minnow overboard. Often, the wait under optimal conditions is less than a minute for a bite -- and, a very aggressive, swallow-the-jig type of bite.

Not so on this trip. Even though the water temperature was 42 degrees, there weren't streams of walleyes invading the river. Rather, it was more of a trickle. The good news was, there were enough fish for my friend, Pete Wolney, and I to catch plenty for dinner and bring home a limit. The bad news was, we waited much longer than usual for bites, sometimes up to an hour.

But, I am not complaining. After all, I did land a nice, 23-inch walleye, plus we had one flurry on the trip in which we caught eight fish in an hour Tuesday morning. I caught five of those fish, which included back-to-back 18-inchers and a 19-incher, the biggest keeper of the trip. With a protected slot of 19 1/2 to 28 inches, the three nice fish I caught are some of the best eaters an angler could ask for.

Interestingly, during the time of that flurry, I had the unusual problem of ice buildup on my rod guides. That, more than anything, made me wonder if Pete and I were nuts for fishing under these conditions. That morning, the mercury dipped to 18 degrees and only got into the upper 30s. So, we spent much of the day fishing in sub-freezing weather.

Of course, cold doesn't bother me nearly as much when the fish are biting. Unfortunately, they weren't biting at all on the main lake, which is where we decided to try Tuesday morning due to a good report we got before the trip.

Last week, anglers were catching lots of fish out on the lake past a narrow opening in a long island called "the gap." But, strong northwest winds over several days churned up the water and made it dirty, shutting down the lake bite. We didn't get a bite in an hour and a half and heard similar reports from other anglers who also tried it.

Then, we came back into the river and anchored on one of our favorite spots. That's when we had the eight-fish flurry. That was worth the whole trip for me. But, we caught more fish the next morning to replace what we had eaten the night before. This is our sixth or seventh year of going up in the fall, and we have taken home our limit every time.

We worked harder for it this year than other years, but our persistence paid off. So did our previous years of experience on the river. We have several spots stored in our memories that rarely let us down. Plus, we have learned to put our time in when the conditions are tough. We especially target dawn and dusk, when nice flurries often occur. However, this year, our best flurry happened from 11 a.m. to noon.

Sometimes, that happens. I'm just glad we were in the right spot when a good wave of fish went through. Now, it's on to deer hunting, which opens on Saturday. We will face unusually mild temperatures and lots of standing corn. That could make the hunting tough.

But, I'm fresh off of a fishing trip where persistence made the difference. I plan to sit in my stand all day Saturday and I'm encouraging my two sons, Joe and Andy, to do the same. Last year, I got my deer at 12:30. Because the rut is in full swing, deer should move even if it's warm.

That's what I plan to keep telling myself on Saturday.

Where are the birds?

I had a fall wild turkey hunt last week down in Goodhue County. I hunted properties near Cannon Falls and Red Wing. I had three pieces of land in all and I hunted all three on Wednesday and Thursday.

But, the birds were a no-show. I didn't see or hear a single bird, nor did a see as much as a turkey track, turkey feather or turkey dropping. It looked as though the birds just weren't using any of these properties.

That is the frustration of fall turkey hunting. In the spring, the birds are in much smaller groups and more spread out. Usually, if there is adequate food and habitat, there will be some birds around.

Not so in the fall. The turkeys gather in very large flocks of as many as 50 birds or more. That means feast or famine when it comes to hunting. Either, you encounter lots of birds or none at all. This year, for me, it was none at all.

It might be tempting to blame the cold, wet weather for  the poor hunting. But, it's really due to the flocking nature of birds in the fall. If I want to be successful next year, I'll have to do some scouting before the season to find out where the birds are. The good news is, nearly every farmer who has birds would like to see the flock reduced. So, getting permission to hunt fall turkeys on private land is easy.

I did experience something very enjoyable in the woods last week, however. I saw a total of seven deer during two afternoons of hunting, two the first day and five the second. In one case, I had a nice buck cross in front of me only about 25 to 30 yards away. That was cool!

It got me to thinking about deer season, which is less than three weeks away. The deer appear to be moving right now and the activity will only pick up in the next few weeks. I can't wait!

An unexpected farewell

I got a phone call recently from Jack Kolars, the director of advancement at Bethlehem Academy in Faribault. He asked about photos I took of the new Divine Mercy church building in July.

After I agreed to send him a photo, I asked how Ron Thibault was doing. Ron and I struck up a friendship in the course of my work at The Catholic Spirit. Ron is a graduate of the school and came back to spend 42 years as a teacher and administrator.

About 11 or 12 years ago, Ron invited me down for the school's annual fundraiser, which they called a lobster boil. We discovered a mutual passion for hunting and fishing and I have always made it a point to see Ron when I'm down in Faribault on assignment for the paper. In fact, I had a nice visit with him in July on my way back from taking pictures of the new church with its pastor, Father Kevin Finnegan.

I ended up photographing three of his four daughters' weddings and I enjoyed them all. The most recent was Laura's almost two years ago. Ron and I talked about going hunting together someday and I came close to talking him into trying a spring wild turkey hunt.

Sadly, we'll never get that chance. Jack informed me that Ron died Sept. 6 of cancer at the age of 68. I was stunned, and so were his wife, Connie, and the rest of the family. He was diagnosed just two days before he died, Jack told me. Doctors thought it was pneumonia at first, but decided to do more testing when Ron wasn't getting better.

Fittingly, his funeral Mass was celebrated at the new church. I have to admit, Ron's death hit me hard -- very hard. He had such a love for life, for Bethlehem Academy, for the outdoors. His family owns a nice piece of land outside of town and he wanted me to come down and hunt there with him someday. He said there are lots of wild turkeys in the area, and he and I were going to hunt them one of these years.

I'm really going to miss Ron. He was always cheerful when I saw him, always excited about hunts past, present and future. Yet, he wasn't in a hurry to leave B.A. And, I'm sure the folks at B.A. were in no hurry to see him go.

I'm sure many, many lives were touched by Ron. Mine is one of them. I'm disappointed we won't have the chance to get out in the woods together. Now that hunting season is in full swing, I'm sure I'll think of Ron often. And, when I do, I'll offer prayers for Connie and their four daughters.

May he rest in peace.

Turning attention to whitetails

Yesterday was an ambitious day for me in the woods of Goodhue County. It was time to do some scouting and stand preparation for our deer hunt Nov. 7. I went down to our deer-hunting properties with my son, Joe, my friend, Bernie Schwab, and his son, Chris, who is not old enough to hunt, but definitely old enough to be interested in the rituals of the hunt.

We worked hard and long to get things ready and got most of the work done. We performed the arduous task of moving a stand about 200 yards and setting it up, then did some work on a tripod stand on a different property. I have taken two deer from that stand and am hoping for a third this year. And, we went to cut some shooting lanes near a stand from which Bernie shot a beautiful 10-point buck last year.

As it turned out, someone (probably the landowner) kind of beat us to the punch. When we got to the back corner of the property where our stand is located, we discovered a bunch of fallen trees near the edge of the woods. The line of freshly-cut brush and trees extended for quite a ways, starting near where the stand is located. I wondered how this would affect deer movement.

There was similar clearing done not far from my tripod stand. It seems like this kind of tree removal happens about every other year on at least one of the properties we hunt. And, there are often other curve balls to go with it, like other hunters showing up unexpectedly (including trespassers), vandalism to our stands, and, of course, nasty weather.

Each year, it seems, there's always something. But, such things serve as a reminder that change is a fact of life, and a fact of the Christian life as well. Jesus warns us of this, and even challenges us to be ready for it.

I have thought about this lately and, in my self-reflection, discovered that I very much like to keep things as they are -- the good things, anyway. I am often quick to complain -- and complain loudly -- when the curve balls of life come sweeping in. I always want and hope to adapt well and quickly. But in things like deer hunting, I like success and favorable conditions to last year after year.

But, every year God shows me that change is inevitable. At the same time, he has also shown me how well he can work in such circumstances. Last year was the worst year for bad weather and curve balls, yet our hunting party of five managed to harvest three deer on opening day, including Bernie's 10-pointer. Amazingly, it was the most deer our party has gotten in the six years we have hunted together.

Based primarily on that, I am optimistic this year. We have already faced curve balls, and there may be more to come. But, I believe God will bless our hunt. Does that mean three more deer? Or four? Or, even five? Or, perhaps, none?

I don't know. At this point, I will merely thank God for the opportunity to spend time in the woods with Joe, my No. 2 son, Andy, Bernie, Chris, and Bernie's oldest son, Dan, who will be trying for his second deer this year. And, I will wait confidently for the blessings he bestows on us Nov. 7.

A moose for Father Joe

I have been anxiously awaiting news from Father Joe Classen of the Archdiocese of St. Louis. He went on a moose hunting trip to Alaska earlier this month and spent 10 days in a remote area accessible only by plane. He just got back and sent me two e-mails describing his hunt. The following are excerpts from those e-mails:

"Made it back home in one piece (besides a few scars, bruises and being 12 pounds lighter) from the self-guided moose hunt in the Alaskan Yukon Delta!  It was genuinely the adventure of a lifetime!  All the fall colors were in their prime and just being out there was 10 of the most beautiful (and brutal) days of my life!  It was certainly an experience that put our skills, will power and sheer determination to the test.

"In the end, it was a safe, a sanctified…. and yes…..on the second to last day of the hunt…an ultimately successful trip.  Didn’t get the king bull of the Delta, but the nice medium-sized bull that the Lord provided was fine by me!  Trying to haul out anything bigger would have seriously killed my hunting buddy and me.  The Lord’s hand was truly upon us in many ways, and for that, I’m eternally grateful.  For those of you on Facebook…you can check out the entire photo album there on my page.

"The full story is a long one, which I'm sure will make it into a book, and it might even make it into a hunting magazine or two.  Man, am I beat!  I just can't seem to shake off the exhaustion of the last few days of the trip.  Hauling out the moose through knee and waist high swamp and tundra was the most brutal thing I have ever done in my life!"

Congrats, Father Joe!

 

Let the hunt begin!

One of the hunts I'm very much looking forward to this fall is one in which I will not be carrying a weapon. It takes place in early October and I don't mind one bit that I won't have any chance at harvesting an animal.

Rather, I will pin my hopes on my good friend, John Nesheim, who will be participating in a special hunt for the disabled put on by the United Foundation For Disabled Archers (UFFDA). The organization offers its members free, guided hunts on private land using crossbows. John, who had his feet amputated last winter due to severe frostbite, will be going on his first UFFDA hunt and is very excited.

So am I. It will take place near Park Rapids and I am very optimistic that John will have a fun and successful hunt. I pulled together a few of John's friends and we bought him a new crossbow at Schaffer Performance Archery in Burnsville. John Schaffer not only gave us a nice discount on a crossbow, he helped John sight it in so he's all ready to go.

John will have several days to try for a whitetail, and I hope to join him in a blind for at least part of a day, hopefully, more. After all he's been through, first with the amputation and then with the adjustment of using prosthetics, it sure would be nice to see him make a successful shot on a deer.

I'll be praying for him!

Fish and game week

Thanks to a minor mishap that occurred over the weekend, I am eating well this week.

On Saturday evening, just as the wicked thunderstorms were rolling through the metro area, I made a shocking discovery -- the freezer door in my garage was ajar. Several inches may not seem like much, but it was enough to thaw some of the wild game and fish stored inside the freezer.

Fortunately, I caught it early enough so that nothing spoiled. In fact, only a few items were completely thawed. Others were only thawed on the edges and still frozen in the middle. As a precaution, I took the stuff that was completely thawed out and also pulled out a few partially thawed items.

The hardest hit by the thaw was the meat from the axis deer my son, Joe, shot in Texas during his trip in July. Because the stuff we had tried previously had tasted so good, I wanted  to preserve all of the remaining meat as well as I could. So, I put several packages in the refrigerator and decided to cook them all this week.

Problem was, my son and his two younger brothers were going to leave on Sunday for a week of camp that they go to every year. Not wanting to miss out altogether, he got up early Sunday morning and got the charcoal grill going. I grilled three steaks for him and let him have a nice meal before driving him down to camp.

That night, I did the same thing for my wife, daughter and parents. It was delicious. Yesterday afternoon, I brought in wild turkey/wild rice casserole to my fellow employees at The Catholic Spirit. Then, last night, I fried several walleye fillets for my wife and I. Tonight, it's more grilled axis deer steaks, plus a few beef tenderloins. Later in the week, I'm going to make axis deer stew and venison cheeseburger on a stick.

It's a lot of cooking, but I don't mind. The results are worth it. I'm just glad I didn't have to throw anything out. It's probably not a bad idea to empty out the freezer a little bit. I will be hunting wild turkeys in the fall, plus my two oldest boys and I each have tags for deer in both Minnesota and Montana. And, the boys each have a youth elk tag for Montana.

If we are even reasonably successful, we could fill the freezer fast. Could be a great fall ahead!

Great progress

I had breakfast this morning with my friend, John Nesheim, who lost his feet after falling into a ravine in January and suffering severe frostbite. It has been seven months since that happened and I am happy to report that he is in good spirits and making great progress with his artificial feet.

He is walking on his own and driving. In fact, he picked me up at my house and we drove to the restaurant together. Doctors had told him back in January that he would get fitted for his prosthetic feet in July or August and would begin learning how to use them shortly thereafter. But, he has surpassed their expectations.

He believes the prayers of many have supplied the grace to accelerate the learning curve. He said he felt ready from the start and has progressed quickly. It's great to see him moving around so well. I asked him if he could climb into a fishing boat and he replied that he would like to try. So, I hope to take him out yet this summer.

Also, he has started learning to shoot with a crossbow to get ready for a special deer hunt for disabled archers in Park Rapids the first weekend in October. It is put on by an organization called the United Foundation For Disabled Archers (UFFDA). John is excited and so am I. He'll have four days to try for a whitetail. It will be a guided hunt on private land -- a premium opportunity.

Off to Texas

My son, Joe, woke me up at 5 a.m. today. I was expecting it. He needed a ride to the airport for a flight to Dallas. He'll spend two days with my brother, Mark, who lives there, then he'll go on to Del Rio for a week at a summer camp at Indianhead Ranch.

He won the trip to Indianhead by placing first in the senior division of an essay contest put on by Safari Club International. He worked hard on his essay during the Christmas break and thought he had a shot at winning.

Turns out, he was right. I'm very proud of him and excited for his adventure at Indianhead. He'll learn more about conservation during the camp, plus he'll get a chance to go on a hunt for an exotic species. Along the way, he'll also learn camping and survival skills, and get ATV training. It sounds like an action-packed week.

I wish more teens could have this kind of experience. It sure beats video and computer games.

Father's Day banquet

Father's Day was different this year, but enjoyable nonetheless. For the first time, my Dad, Ray, had to be admitted to a health care facility due to some complications and weakness. He is under observation and the medical staff is trying to help him regain strength so he can return home.

So, two of my brothers and I decided to take the Father's Day party to him. I made one of my top wild-game recipes -- wild turkey/wild rice casserole -- and brought it over as the main course. All of us were able to enjoy it, including Dad. I like to think that this is one of the noblest uses for wild game and I think even ardent animal-rights activists would have a hard time finding fault with our attempt to give Dad a home-cooked meal for Father's Day.

Dad was in good spirits, although he still seems weak. We're all hoping and praying he can regain his strength soon and come home. Yet, at age 87, we know there is no guarantee of a full recovery. All we can do is spend time with him and enjoy him as he is.

As it turns out, that is a very easy thing to do. My Dad always has had a great sense of humor and I'm happy to say that it still is fully intact. He even made a joke about turkeys and flapped his arms for emphasis.

We loved it. In fact, this was proof that there was nothing dark or dreary about this Father's Day celebration, despite the thick clouds and intermittent rain that fell during our party. May God grant us many more family get-togethers as fun as this one.

An important letter

I dropped an envelope in the mail this week that will help a friend fulfill his wish.

John Nesheim lost both of his feet to frostbite in January and has been working through the process of dealing with the amputations and learning how to use his new prosthetic feet. He has told me on more than one occasion that he wants to deer hunt this fall. It's one of his favorite outdoor activities and one he dearly wants to keep doing.

The letter I sent will make that possible. It was an application for a special hunt put on by the United Foundation for Disabled Archers (UFFDA) in Park Rapids in early October. Because he is a first-time applicant, all John has to do is join UFFDA and he will be selected to go on this hunt.

Because this organization caters to disabled hunters, they will take good care of John. He will have a guide to go out with him and he will hunt on private land reserved for the hunters who get picked to go.

I'm very thankful for organizations like this. I was willing to try to put together a hunt for John, which I still might do. But, it's nice to have something already set up and established, something that's designed for people like John. I think he'll have a great time on this hunt. He'll also be able to bring his wife, Maureen. So, it will be a family affair.

As of right now, I'm planning on going, too, to take pictures and possibly write a story. It should  be fun. John is already excited about this opportunity and it gives him something to look forward to. And, it will be good motivation for him to become proficient at using a crossbow.

A bird for Bob

My father-in-law, Bob Guditis, came from his home in Great Falls, Mont. to Minnesota last week to visit his daughters who live here. When he first told me about his trip a couple of months ago, I suggested he buy a Wisconsin turkey license so he could hunt while he was here.

He gladly agreed and bought the tag online. The good news was, he was able to free up some time for turkey hunting. The bad news was, he didn't have much time to spend in the woods -- Thursday afternoon and Friday morning and that was it. Anyone who hunts turkeys long enough knows it can often take several days to pattern birds and get one to come in close enough for a shot.

We wouldn't have that luxury. Not only that, he has limited mobility, so I would have to pick out a good spot and hope a bird would come in.

I chose a small farm that we hadn't hunted yet this year and, to the best of my knowledge, neither had anyone else. So, that was a plus. I chose a spot along the edge of an alfalfa field Thursday afternoon and we waited until almost sundown for a bird to show. No birds came. We heard a hen yelping back in the woods and that was it.

But, we did see two nice whitetail bucks walk out into the field. Already, they had started some decent antler growth, which got Bob and I to thinking how fun it would be to come back in the fall.

We repositioned the blind before we left and hoped and prayed there would be some action Friday morning. We crawled into the blind at about 5:10 the next morning and waited for the turkeys to gobble on the roost. We heard one that was pretty far off, then another one that seemed closer. I felt it was close enough to hear my calling, so I shot out a few hen yelps.

The bird didn't answer, but I didn't lose hope. Sometimes, for reasons I may never understand, toms will come in to your calls without gobbling first. So, I held fast to my belief that a bird might appear.

About a half hour later, that's exactly what happened. A yearling tom, called a jake, came walking out into the freshly planted crop field adjacent to the alfalfa field where we were set up. He was about 100 yards away at that point and didn't appear interested in our decoys. So, I did some calling to try and change his mood.

It worked. He turned and came walking toward us and our decoys. I figured he might stop when he got to the edge of the alfalfa, which was about 50 yards away. That's what he did, but then he kept on coming. When I thought he was about 40 yards away, I asked Bob how far the bird was from us. He said he thought it was 36 yards, so I told him to go ahead and shoot. He dropped the bird and we went out and paced the distance from the blind to the bird -- 37 yards.

Bob is a civil engineer and he's very good at judging distances. After snapping a few photos of his bird, I offered an invitation to come over for dinner on Sunday afternoon with his wife, Sharon. I said I would prepare his turkey using one of my top recipes -- wild turkey/wild rice casserole. He agreed and we had a wonderful dinner that day.

I don't think a lot of people know how delicious wild turkey can be. Older birds can be tough, but cooking them in a crock pot works for any kind of bird you have. The wild turkey/wild rice casserole never fails to be good and I never worry about the turkey being tough. One key thing is to use only the breast meat. The leg and thigh meat is tougher and might not work as well in the casserole. However, you can make soup stock from it, which a couple of my friends do. I was able to donate turkey legs to them.

All in all, it was a great spring for turkey hunting this year. I just read that Minnesota set another harvest record this year and it looks like the turkey population is in great shape. I tip my hat to the DNR in both Minnesota and Wisconsin for the great work they do in managing their respective flocks. Hunters like me have benefited greatly from their efforts. Can't wait to get out in the woods again next year!

Next, I go to Lake of the Woods for a fishing trip this week. I've heard the fishing has been great up there so far and am hoping it will continue this week. The weather is supposed to be nice, so that will be a plus. Stay tuned for a fishing report!

Cheesebirds

Day 2 of my Wisconsin turkey season on May 14 found me sitting in a blind with my 87-year-old father, Ray. It was windy and the birds were silent. So, at 8 a.m., I got out of the blind and walked around the property we were hunting to see if I could strike up a bird. Nothing.

I went back and asked my dad if he would mind if I went back to the property I had hunted the day before. He agreed and off I went. I got there about 9 a.m. and promptly dosed off in the blind I had set up there. At about 9:45, I woke up and did some calling. Minutes later, I heard a short gobble back in the woods. Then, another.

I waited and soon saw the red head of a gobbler bobbing through the trees. It stopped to take a look, then ran its head up in classic turkey fashion at about 35-40 yards. I shot and the bird started running. I missed for the second day in a row!

This time, instead of just watching the bird escape, I quickly drew a bead on it and took a second shot. To my surprise, he went down and stayed down. It seemed like a long shot and my measurement from where he was back to the blind confirmed it -- 58 paces.

I was ecstatic and very thankful I was able to make the shot. It was a nice bird with a 10-inch beard that weighed 20 pounds. Not as big as my son's bird, but I was happy nonetheless. Later, I realized that the reason I had missed the first shot was because a tree happened to be right in the path of my pellets and it absorbed most of them.

It didn't bother me in the least that Joe's bird ended up being the biggest of our spring hunt. I'm very happy that Joe got this bird because he had gone the last two seasons without getting one. He was starting to get down on turkey hunting, but this trophy gobbler got him very pumped up about it again.

All in all, it has been a great spring for turkey hunting. I came close to filling my bonus tag on Friday. I had a big gobbler strutting out in a field at about 50 yards for a group of six hens that came within 15 yards of my blind. When the hens started walking away, I figured they would pull the tom away from me, so I took the shot. The bird went down, but got back up and ran into the woods.

Oh well. That's the way it goes. I'm happy about the birds I was able to harvest, but the season isn't finished yet. My son, Andy, goes out at the end of this week for Wisconsin's final season, as does his Grandpa Bob Guditis. Once again, I will serve as guide and be honored to do so. Fishing will have to wait one more week.

Turkey time!

I have been chomping at the bit for weeks -- actually, months -- to go turkey hunting and the day finally arrived on Sunday, May 10. The opening day of my Minnesota season was on Mother's Day, and it could have produced some tension, except I celebrated the day with my wife, Julie, on Friday when we went out for dinner. So, that left Sunday morning free.

I went down to Goodhue County with my brother, Paul, that day. We heard gobbles and saw a hen, but no toms. Monday was more of the same, until about 5:45 p.m., when I had three gobblers come in. One swung around to my right and I didn't see him until after he saw me move and gave an alarm putt. Too bad. He was only about 20 yards away. I wasn't able to get a shot off before he escaped.

No matter. About 5 to 10 minutes later, up popped another one about 40 yards in front of me. This time, I was able to get a shot off and bring the bird down. It was a thrill.

This morning, I took my son, Joe, out for our opening day in Wisconsin. Even though it was cloudy and windy, the birds were active. He hunted one farm and I hunted another a few miles away. I took a shot at 6:45 a.m. and missed. He did the same about 8 a.m. Then, just minutes after he missed, another bird came in and he made the shot this time. It was a beautiful bird, with a thick, 10-inch beard, and it weighed 25 pounds.

I wish I had gotten a second chance. I had other birds come in, but not close enough for a shot. Tomorrow, I'm taking my Dad, Ray, out to the spot where Joe got his bird. I hope things work out as well for Dad as they did for Joe. Stay tuned for the next report!

The bearded lady

During the first part of the week, I was thinking a lot about Bishop Joe Charron of Des Moines and his wild turkey hunt. He had invited me to go down to Missouri and hunt with he and his friend, Joe Lane.

Unfortunately, I had to decline at the last minute, but I kept wondering how things were going in the woods for them. As it turned out, Bishop Charron scored on the first day (Monday), shooting a bird with an 8-inch beard.

Here's the strange part -- that bird was a female, or hen. Normally, only  the males (toms) have beards, which is why the laws in many states, including Missouri, allow only the shooting of turkeys with visible beards.

Bishop Charron and Lane walked up to the bird and thought it looked funny. Further investigation revealed the female gender of the turkey. Some people want to shoot only the males, but Bishop Charron was happy with his bird, which he was in the process of preparing when I called him on Wednesday. As it turned out, it was the only bird either of them saw during the trip. They were supposed to hunt for three days, but left after two due to low bird sightings and bad weather predicted for Wednesday.

Missouri is going through a tough time for turkeys. The state has had poor bird hatches the last two years and may have another this year. The problem has been rain and cold during the critical period after the turkeys hatch in May. Ask any wildlife biologist and he or she will tell you that this is the single most important factor in turkey survival.

Up here in Minnesota, we always equate turkey survival with the severity of winter, but it's not as significant a factor as people think. Most of the time, turkeys do fine in winter, provided there's enough food and the birds can get to it. In a lengthy conversation last year with a biologist, he told me the birds can handle the cold as long as they can get to food. It's heavy, deep snow cover that can cause problems. Even then, they can make trails through the snow to get to food.

Bottom line -- turkeys are doing just fine in Minnesota, especially in the southeast portion. That's great news for me because that's where I hunt. I have to wait just over a week before my season opens on May 10. I'm getting very antsy, thinking about my upcoming hunt while I lay in bed at night. I really enjoy walking out into the woods in the dark and hearing that first gobble at dawn.

For now, fishing will have to wait.

Imperfect timing

I had to make a difficult and painful phone call on Friday. I was scheduled to go turkey hunting in Missouri this  week with Bishop Joe Charron and his friend, Joe Lane, a Minnesota native who lives in Des Moines, Iowa, and invites Bishop Charron down to his 220-acre piece of property nearly every spring to hunt  turkeys.

All week, I had been feeling like the timing wasn't right for this trip, for several reasons, including a heavy workload and a persistent chest cold that wasn't going away. So, on Friday, I called Bishop Charron to say I wouldn't be able to come down. I was really looking forward to going, but I felt staying home was the right thing to do. Bishop Charron agreed and we talked about rescheduling for next year.

However, that does not mean I had nothing to do with turkey hunting over the weekend. On the contrary, I went down to Goodhue County on Saturday to do some preseason scouting for my Minnesota hunt, which begins May 10. I took my brother, Paul, who has hunted this property several times and got a bird each time, including last spring.

We pulled in and were preparing to walk up the hill to his favorite spot when we heard two toms gobbling at the top of the hill. When we reached  the top, one of the gobblers was out in the field and ran off when he saw us. We heard the other one gobbling in the woods and I'm pretty sure I spotted him as well. Needless to say, I was pretty excited. The first day of my hunt is on a Sunday and Paul might join me. That would be fun.

Then, when we got back, we had a wild game cookout at my house, featuring grilled wild turkey and elk burgers. I had half a breast left from my Wisconsin gobbler that I shot last year and it tasted delicious. The elk came courtesy of a friend of ours who had shot one a year-and-a-half ago. Both the turkey and the elk were delicious. Then, yesterday, I used another portion of the wild turkey breast to make our family's favorite recipe -- wild turkey/wild rice casserole. It was fabulous, as usual. I'm hoping to put more turkey in the freezer this spring so we can make the casserole again.

The birds appear to be very active this spring in Minnesota and I'm optimistic about my hunt in two weeks. Just three days after my Minnesota season opens, I go to Wisconsin for a hunt there with my oldest son, Joe, and my Dad. It should be a fun week!