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.

Running in the rain

I went over to Battle Creek Regional Park in St. Paul yesterday to see my son, Joe, compete in the last cross country race of his high school career. He is a senior at Trinity School at River Ridge in Eagan. It was the section meet and he was shooting for his best time of the year.

He is the No. 6 runner on the team, and only the top five score in a meet. So, he was running for pride. He also was trying to push through some physical problems he has been having throughout the season, particularly the last few weeks. He has been getting ill during and after races, and he's not sure why.

The rainy, sloppy conditions yesterday definitely did not help. He got off to a pretty good start, but faded later in the race. I shouted encouragement as he ran by, hoping to spur him on to a kick at the end.

He struggled to finish, but I was proud of him nonetheless. Sometimes, it's hardest to complete a task when you know the results you are hoping for won't happen. That was definitely the case here.

But,  there's a valuable lesson that can come from this experience, and I hope he will learn it. I think it's good when things don't come easy and we have to work hard to achieve results that are below our expectations. Too often, I think, parents try to shield their children from things like this.

But, these kinds of experiences build character in ways success often doesn't. So, I walk away happy from this event, especially that Joe didn't give up and pushed to the end.

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.

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!

Last gasp for bass

I took advantage of the beautiful weather over  the weekend to go fishing for bass on Lake Calhoun. It likely would be my last trip of the year for bass. Although fall fishing can be good, I have never done well in late September and October for bass.

So, this would be it. I was hoping the stretch of stable weather would mean a good bite. The fishing wasn't outstanding, but there was enough action to make for a good day on the water. I ended up with four nice bass in the 18-inch range. I caught one that went 18 1/2 inches, another that was 18 1/4, a third that was 18 even and a fourth that was 17 1/2.

I was hoping for at least one fish a little bigger, but I was not about to complain. One of those fish I probably shouldn't have landed. I felt a bite and set the hook, then my line broke. Usually, that's it, but, strangely, the line caught on one of the guides on my rod and held. It took me a second or two to figure out what had happened, then I quickly grabbed the line before the bass pulled it loose.

I pulled in the line hand over hand and, amazingly, I was able to get the bass up to the boat. Then, the line caught on my trolling motor and, once again, I figure the fish was lost. But, it didn't make a run to break the line, and I was able to pull the motor up to free the line. I proceeded to pull the fish boatside, and I then lip landed it.

This was the strangest landing of a fish I have ever had. That made the trip more memorable. Unfortunately, the trip ended up being memorable for a negative reason as well. I made a costly mistake when I tried to take a picture of myself holding two of the nice fish. I positioned my camera on a pedestal seat in the front of the boat, then reached into the livewell to grab the fish. I bumped the pedestal and the camera fell into the livewell.

It got completely submerged, which spells doom for any camera. So, I lost the camera, lens and flash. I was very bummed about the incident, but called to mind a Scripture verse from Paul's letter to the Romans: "We know that all things work for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose." (Romans 8:28)

That is my hope. And so, I will wait upon the Lord to see how he will make this situation work for good.

Hamstring healing

Two days ago, I went for my usual morning run near my home in St. Paul. I have battled through tightness in my Achilles tendon in my left leg and have been stretching it before and after every walk or jog.

But, on this day, it was my left hamstring that gave me trouble. Moments after waving to my son, Joe, who passed me going the opposite way, I felt a sharp pain in my left hamstring. I limped home and battled pain for the rest of the day. That evening, I got together with several friends and they said a prayer over me for healing.

The next morning, it was tight, but I managed to go on a 2-mile walk. Then, today, almost all of the pain was gone and I was able to go on a 3-mile run. I feel as though God healed my hamstring. I was worried I pulled the muscle and would not be able to run for days, even weeks. But, just two days after the injury, I was able to complete my run.

Praise God! He listens to our prayers and reaches in to offer healing. Perhaps, the injury wasn't as serious as I first thought. Still, I think it's remarkable to see such improvement in just two days. To be sure, I'll be careful to avoid further injury and will be diligent about stretching before and after every walk or run.

I also hope to continue to "confidently approach the throne of grace" as the Scripture says "to find help in time of need."

From bassing to birding

I got a rare treat yesterday. I was able to fish for a few hours on Lake Calhoun with someone who probably has logged more hours on the lake than any other angler alive.

His name is Chet Meyers and he lives just a few blocks from the lake and has put in lots of time chasing walleyes, muskies and bass on the lake over the last four decades. I had fished with him about 15-20 years ago while working for the Sun-Current weekly newspaper chain in the western suburbs. I recently thought of him and decided to try and reconnect with this local fishing expert.

Turns out, he's not fishing Calhoun and its two neighbors, Cedar and Lake of the Isles, nearly as much as he used to. That ended up being better news than I thought. Although it meant that I wouldn't get much of a fishing report from him for this summer, it also meant that he was now willing to reveal some of his hotspots.

Normally, serious anglers guard their honey holes like mama bears guard their cubs. But, Meyers doesn't have the same passion for fishing that he did when he got serious about it in the early 1970s. It has been supplanted by a new hobby -- bird watching.

"I used to fish 180 days a year," said Meyers, who belongs to St. Stephen in South Minneapolis. "Now, I bird 180 days a year... Birding just sort of seized me. I can't explain why."

As he pursued bird watching more, he joined the Audubon Chapter of Minneapolis. And, he now takes his place on the shoreline of Lake Calhoun with hundreds of others every fall in search of rare seagulls that stop at the lake on their annual southern migration.

Yet, all of this fuss over birds doesn't mean he has abandoned his fishing rods. He likes to get out when he can, which is more often now that he is retired from his teaching job at Metro State University, where he has taught, among other things, a class on fish and fishing. So, it didn't take much arm twisting to persuade him to join me on the lake yesterday.

We fished our way around the lake, starting at the boat landing. He identified little points here and dropoffs there. We pitched jig-and-plastic-worm offerings in search of hungry bass, but found few takers. Finally, toward the end of our excursion, Meyers hooked a dandy 19 1/2-incher along the north shore. As he released the fish after a quick photo, he made me promise not to tell anyone else about this particular spot. I agreed, knowing that I would ask the same of him if the tables were turned.

But, I discovered on this day that I don't have any spots that Meyers isn't aware of. I shouldn't be surprised. He started fishing this lake in 1976 and spent about 10 years trying to learn every nook and cranny. He's a great guy to have in the boat if you're trying to learn more about the lake.

In this regard, I considered the day a success, even if the bass proved shy. I'll be back later to try some of the spots Meyers showed me. Meanwhile, he'll continue to work on a research project he currently chairs involving the red-headed woodpecker. This species has declined about 50 percent in the midwest over the last 40 years, 40-80 percent nationwide, and Meyers is part of a collective effort to study the bird's habitat so as to provide more suitable areas for nesting.

Meyers isn't sure if he'll get out on Calhoun again this summer -- at least with fishing rod in hand. Most likely, he'll take a position on the shoreline looking at seagulls. And, today, he begins his final fishing class at Metro State. The 25 fortunate students should realize what a privilege it is to learn about fishing from someone of Meyers' stature.

For one memorable day, I, too, was one of his pupils.

Run in the sun

It was a beautiful, sunny morning at Blackhawk Park in Eagan Saturday when I arrived there with my oldest son, Joe. We were there to participate in a special run put on by the boys and girls cross country teams of Trinity School, where Joe will be a senior starting this week.

Family members, friends and alums were invited to join the runners for a lap or two around the pond in the park. Folks were given the option of running one, two or three miles. Having trained for a few weeks and having done several three-mile runs, I chose to go the distance.

Before the run, I made my son promise he wouldn't laugh at me when I crossed the finish line. I figured I probably would be the last person to make it across. That was fine with me. I was just happy to be out there running at all.

Sure enough, the cross country runners left me in the dust pretty quickly. I managed to pass one young boy on the course and that was it. By the time I was finished, I was sore and nearly out of breath. But, I made it just like I said I would.

I thought Joe and the other runners would be there cheering for me at the end, but they decided to go for a cool down run after they finished. Cooling down for me simply meant feasting on the free ice cream stacked in coolers near the parking lot.

That was a nice reward, but the bigger payoff was being able to be there with Joe, even though we didn't run side by side. He's way ahead of me in terms of training, plus he's almost 30 years younger. I just hope to continue running, while he has far loftier goals.

I hope he's able to keep running long after he graduates in May 2010. I talked another dad who was an avid runner for 25 years before he developed knee trouble. He now does other things like swimming and biking. He said he talked to a doctor who said most people can run for about 25 years before developing knee problems.

That means I have about 24 years and 10 months of running left!

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.

Right place, right time

I ventured over to Lake Calhoun last night, this time without my fishing boat. I was there to take engagement photos of a wonderful Christian couple, Sean and Julia, who have hired me to shoot their wedding.

They met at Lake Calhoun, so it was a natural place to take the photos. A day earlier, weather forecasters were predicting rain, but the evening was dry and sunny. We went to the west side of the lake and found some really neats spots for photos. Then, at the end, we decided to go to the lakeshore and get a few pictures with the water in the background.

As I positioned them on the grass, I noticed a beautiful white cloud in the sky behind them. And, it was lit up nicely by the setting sun. As I spent several minutes shooting, some nice color appeared in the sky and was reflected in the water.

It was about perfect. I snapped some photos in the waning moments of this beautiful light and ended up with the type of dramatic photos I would not have predicted. God is so good to have given me this gift. And, Sean and Julia recognized this blessing as well.

I remarked that it would very hard, if not impossible, to see something like this and not be convinced that there is a God. The experience made me wish that a group I had seen at Lake Cahlhoun the day before had been able to see this sunset. About eight or 10 men and women in their 20s were gathered near the boat landing wearing black t-shirts that said "Religion is a lie."

I would have really liked to have watched this sunset with them and then had a conversation with them about God. Not sure I would have persuaded them to believe in Him, but I sure could have made a compelling case.

No matter. I am content to experience the joy of this special gift from the Lord. I'm sure scenes just like this must have inspired the words of the psalmist.

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.

Bass chase is on!

Although the bass opener was more than a month ago, my largemouth season officially began on Friday, July 3. It was the day of my annual Fourth of July weekend outing with my good friend, Dave Altman.

We have gone every year on or near the Fourth of July for a number of years and we kept that tradition alive on Friday. The morning started on Lake Calhoun and switched to nearby Cedar Lake in the afternoon. It was a beautiful day and we were hoping the bass were into their summer patterns, which involves hanging out on the weedlines.

There definitely were small fish active in deeper water, but the bigger fish hadn't yet congregated in their summer haunts. The weedgrowth was very prolific on both lakes and it won't be long before the lunkers start hanging out on the edges. We caught a few fish in the 12- to 14-inch range on Calhoun, then headed north to the channel that would take us to Lake of the Isles. From there, we went through another channel to get to Cedar.

That last leg turned out to be a lot tougher than I would have ever imagined. First, because of the lack of rainfall, the channel is much lower than usual -- only about a foot in some spots. Second, a large tree fell across the channel, leaving only a small opening on one side to get a boat through. We actually had to get out of the boat and pull it past the tree. The only boats that can still get through easily are canoes and kayaks, which explains why we didn't see any other fishing boats on Cedar.

In fact, Dave thinks the channel will be impossible for fishing boats to get through before long. He may be right, which would be a real shame. For sure, the large, eurasian watermilfoil harvesting boats cannot get through, which means the weeds are a lot thicker than normal.

Usually, by now, the harvesters have cut a layer of the fast-growing weed and created clear spots on the lake. Now, the milfoil is heavy everywhere, forming thick mats on the surface anywhere the water is shallow.

That can be a daunting sight for anyone who likes to fish for bass, which often live in shallow water. But, I have learned that largemouths love heavy weed growth and actually thrive in it. I have heard bass experts say this and I believe it. It's just that the thick growth is challenging for anglers.

Fortunately, Dave and I are used to fishing in these kinds of weeds and are used to fishing on Calhoun and Cedar. After staying at it for a while on Cedar, we each connected with one nice bass apiece. Both were 18 1/2 inches long, but Dave's was a lot fatter than mine. I think his probably weighed close to 4 pounds, which is a nice bass on any lake in Minnesota.

One thing about Dave that really impresses me is how skilled a fisherman he is. As I work my boat along the outside edge of weeds, he knows right where to cast and usually puts his cast right on the money. Thus, I am never surprised when he catches fish. In fact, he outfished me on this day, as he has done on many other occasions.

That is just fine with me. I was happy to see his face light up when he hooked his nice bass and fought it for several minutes. When we saw it was a nice one, I grabbed the landing net.

Actually, I have found that 18- to 19-inch bass are usually the strongest fighters, so I really like catching fish that size. I have caught bigger, but they don't necessarily give you a better battle. What they will do is stay down near the bottom longer, which makes them feel heavier. That is certainly a feeling I like -- setting the hook and having the rod double over as the fish sits stubbornly on the bottom.

That feeling should come soon enough. I plan on revisiting these two lakes over the rest of the summer. I sure hope I can get through the channel to Cedar. I believe some big fish await.

Smile at ordination

I had the honor of photographing the ordination of Bishop Lee Piché on Monday at the Cathedral. It was a grand affair, as I knew it would be, full of pomp and circumstance. There were lots of things and people to photograph and I was busy from start to finish.

One light moment came when I had a brief exchange with Bishop Michael Hoeppner of Crookston. He thanked me for sending a CD of photos with him and his 26-inch walleye that he caught during our fishing trip to Lake of the Woods at the end of May. It's his biggest walleye ever and he was glad to have a picture of it.

I really enjoyed the trip, and seeing Bishop Hoeppner reminded me of how much fun it was. He has fished off and on over the years, but his schedule doesn't give him much time for it. He relies on a member of his staff to supply him with fresh fish throughout the summer. His favorite is panfish.

I sure hope I get the chance to fish with him again. His Bishop's Cup and Family Fishing Tournament on Lake of the Woods June 13 was a success and he plans on putting on another tournament next year elsewhere in the diocese. It would be fun to come up and fish it, but I don't do much walleye fishing, so I'm not sure what kind of a chance I would have to win or even do well. Now, bass, that's another story.

I plan on starting my bass fishing in earnest this Friday, July 3. It's a holiday and I will follow my annual tradition of going out with my good friend, Dave Altman, which we do every year around the Fourth of July. I greatly look forward to that outing, and Dave and I usually do well. Last year, however, I had a problem with my electric trolling motor, so we had to cut our trip short. I have since resolved that problem and anticipate no trouble this year. And, with the warm spell we had last week, the bass should be in their summer pattern.

I can't wait!

Bishop's summer message

I ran across a very interesting video the other day. It is a message by Bishop Richard Stika of the Diocese of Knoxville, Tenn. He addresses the youth of the diocese and offers tips for what to do during their summer vacation.

I really liked it. He was warm, personable and very encouraging, and I believe he will engage the young people of his diocese and draw them closer to God and their Catholic faith.

Rather than try to summarize his remarks, I will simply recommend that people watch it. Here's the web address: http://www.dioceseofknoxville.org. Once you get on the home page of the Diocese of Knoxville, the link to Bishop Stika's message is on the right-hand side of the page.

Generally, I like it when bishops and archbishops make videos. I think it can be a great tool to reach Catholics in a diocese and a great way to help people get to know their bishop.

Archbishop John Nienstedt has done that in this archdiocese and I have really enjoyed watching the videos he has made. In fact, I hope he does more. He is an excellent speaker and homilist and I think he comes across very well in a video. I'd be very curious to hear what his reaction to Bishop Stika's video would be.

Perhaps, I can persuade Archbishop Nienstedt to produce a fishing video someday, and then I can help him with the task.

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.

Young turkey hunters enjoy success

A special youth turkey hunt was held over the weekend in various locations throughout the state. More than 300 first-time turkey hunters from 12-17 were drawn in a special lottery and went on guided hunts with volunteers who are local members of the National Wild Turkey Federation.

When I read about the hunt, I made some phone calls to friends with sons who qualified. Two dads ended up sending in applications for their sons and all three of their boys got picked. I went to high school with both fathers -- Bernie Schwab and Marty Willard -- and we graduated from Totino-Grace High School in 1979. Bernie's son, Dan, hunted near Red Wing and Marty's two sons, Jonathan and Simeon, went to Belle Plaine.

The first to connect on a gobbler was Jonathan, hunting with guide Dan Townsend, who attends Our Lady of the Prairie in Belle Plaine. Two big gobblers came in at about 6:20 a.m. and Jonathan shot one of them. Not too far away, Simeon had a close encounter with a tom later that morning, but the bird would not come up over a small rise to give him a shot.

Meanwhile, Dan Schwab had to wait until the next day. He was out of town on a mission trip and did not get back until Saturday afternoon, leaving him just one day to get his bird. The time factor, plus some rainy weather on Sunday, gave him and his guide a sense of urgency.

They moved around quite a bit to find some active birds and finally struck up a gobbler at about 9 a.m. The bird came to within 30 yards and Dan made the shot. His bird weighed 23 1/4 pounds. He used my 12-gauge, which we had sighted in a few weeks before the trip. I have killed birds all the way out to 55 yards, so I was confident the gun would work well for Dan, and it did.

At about the same time Dan killed his bird, Simeon and his guide, Chad Selnow, were trying to call in a group of toms, seven jakes and one mature gobbler. All eight birds ended up coming in and Simeon was going to try to take the mature bird, but it was so close to another jake that he couldn't shoot for fear of killing both birds. So, he looked and saw a jake separated from the others and he took it.

I couldn't be happier for the boys. And, I'm very grateful to the guides who worked hard to give the boys such a great experience in the woods. Many of the guides are landowners who allow the youth to hunt on their land. I think that's very generous, considering that this is land that they themselves hunt. My hats off to all who were involved in this special hunt. I hope to be a part of it someday. Next year, my son, William, will be 12 and eligible for this hunt. I would love for him to have this opportunity.

Double bonus

Some good news came on Saturday for my two oldest sons, Joe and Andy. First, they both got their youth tags for elk and deer hunting in Montana this fall. The state issues them to youth under age 18 and the boys got them for the second year in a row. Like last year, we will be going out west the week of Thanksgiving.

Both Montana residents and nonresidents are eligible for the youth licenses, provided they have a resident sponsor. Their grandfather, Bob Guditis, lives in Great Falls and filled out the necessary paperwork and sent it to us. The tags went on sale March 1 and were available first come, first serve. He was concerned they might get taken in a short period of time, especially when the state reduced the number available this year.

So, it was a nice surprise to get them in the mail on Saturday. An even bigger surprise was when Joe got word that same day that he had won first place in an essay contest sponsored by the Minnesota chapter of Safari Club International. His prize will be a $2,000 trip to a youth hunting camp in Texas at Indianhead Ranch in Del Rio. Part of the package is a chance to shoot an exotic animal at the camp. Joe is very excited about the trip.

The Safari Club started its Apprentice Hunter Program in 1992 as a way to help educate and train youth in outdoor skills. Topics covered include environmental education, wildlife management and conservation. I suspect this camp will produce wildlife managers someday. Perhaps, Joe will be one of them.