A Squirrels Hunter's Dream Dog

This is Mo. Mo is a squirrel dog extraordinaire. Because of his excellent nose, Hunter, Myself, and Jim Mays had a day to remember. Mo is a pleasurable dog to be around. Never jumping or licking us, he was always in search mode. He got in his dog box when he was told, he came when he was told and he hunted when he was told. At the end of the day he was where we wanted him, right at our feet. We didn't want to have to chase him half the night and we didn't. Unbelievably, Mo is up for sale. Now that's a shocker. When you got a dog like him you hang on to him right? Not when you got little B.B. on the hunt as well. B.B., a 6 year old female fiest can hold her on and one is all you need. The price on old Mo, 2000 dollars. Yikes! Now hold on. Before you get sticker shock consider a few things. Mo is a champion, proven, and tempored. Compare that to a dog, say a puppy purchased to be trained. You may only give as little as $50 dollars for the pup but you have years of training, hour upon hour of fruitless, silly, puppy days and lots of fuel burned ahead. Or, you can buy Mo, or another proven champion and go hunting. Invite your friends to come along and brag about your wonderful dog. They may want one just like him, then like you, they have a decision to make. What's it going to be? Puppy and training or big dollars and go hunting. I've had success in the puppy department yet many failures. Never had the big dollars but I'm saving up. If ole Mo is available in the spring and a few odd jobs come through, next year you will want to be with me if your hunting squirrel.

Tumbled Squirrels at Demopolis

Hunter, myself and Jim Mays of McCalla Alabama spent a great day hunting the Demopolis, (David K. Nelson) Wildlife Management Area. With two squirrel dogs and a lot of energy we took down 12 with Hunter doing most of the damage. Demopolis WMA is rich in game. If you like swamps, slues, and thickets, Demopolis may be the place for you. Most of the access is by boat only. It is an extra step but worth the effort. Most hunting pressure is on the most easily accessed property of course but if you are willing to adventure, thousands of acres await with generally low hunting pressure. From highway 59 south take the Union or "Dog Track" exit. Take a left and go to the stop sign. There you take a right. Stay on that road and turn left at the Eutaw Bait and Tackle sign. At the second stop sign make a left. Go and veer right onto Highway 43. Take 43, through deer country, all the way into Forkland. Leaving Forkland turn left just before you cross the railroad tracks going towards the Alabama Power Steam Plant. Stay on that road and the boat launch is on your left.

Other hunter's were dog hunting on the property but we didn't see them after first light. At lunch when we returned, they were gone. Don't let hunting pressure push you away. Hunt it like you own it because, acutally you do. It is state land.

In the picture above, Hunter zeros his 20 guage on a squirrel high in the top of a Water Oak tree. Right after this picture was taken, a large, fat, Gray Squirrel tumbled to the ground. Good job Hunter! And thanks Jim for bringing your excellent dogs and yourself.

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Hi, Brady here. Taking a lazy day today. You know that the settlers at Plymoth Rock outlawed lazyness. Not a bad plan, although today I'd be in the pen cause I have enjoyed listening to the wind howl while I dozed in a warm Lazy Boy. You need some down time every now and then. Even while you are hunting or fishing. I know a guy who made it to the Bass Masters Classic this year. While pre-fishing a tournament with him one day, in the heat of the afternoon, we pulled under a shade tree and sat in the bottom of the boat. He got out his lunch and stretched out on the bow of the boat for some r & r. I said to him most tournament fishermen would say you are wasting time. His reply to me was recharging his batteries is always a part of his day. We relaxed in the shade, ate a nice lunch, and had some good conversation. When we pulled back out into the Alabama River heat we were ready to fish once more and that momentum took us all the way till quitting time. I like the plan and ever since that day, I have taken myself a lunch while out on the water. Some guys may be to intense for that and can fish all day. All I can say is my buddy is in the Classic. Laziness is not a good thing. Being smart is another. I don't know if I am being smart or lazy today because I am not on the water or in the woods. I think I'll just lie here and consider it in the Lazy Boy.

Happy Is The Man Who Hunts For The Right Reasons

Just returned from an awesome hunt in Georgia. I hunted the Cedar Creek WMA with friends and we really had a good time. You will notice in the picture above our Saturday night supper being prepared. We are in camp 4 nights but we only plan 3 meals. We traditionally eat deer meat on Saturday night, that is if someone kills the supper. Otherwise we are forced to eat leftovers. J.T. Russom in this picture has a few miles under his boots. He has killed multitudes of deer and many, many wiley bucks have fell before his barrel. One of the greatest things I have ever witnessed was J.T. hunting through a swamp or over a hardwood hillside. The way he slips through thickets, listens, smells, and watches for deer is masterful. I listen to his stories. Many would call him crazy but he speaks a language only buck hunters can understand. True buck hunters, that is. Not the ones who believe the bigger the antlers the bigger the trophy. Not the ones who scoff at a little buck on the ground. The ones who understand a trophy is what makes you happy. It is what brings you joy. On this hunt, J.T. now in his seventies, slipped through a wet, difficult beaver swamp looking at signs and tracks left behind by his prey. Glancing up he saw a deer sneaking out of the swamp. He watched it as it left. He thought in his mind what the deer was thinking. By the deers actions he knew it was not spooked. He knew the deer left because it heard something. He also knew the deer didn't know what it was. He figured out over the years where the deer's tendency was to go. He knew these woods. He knew the deer would be headed to the "Rock Pile" and would be there by this evening. Putting the wind in his favor, he slipped around the swamp moving quickly to get to the "Rock Pile" before the deer arrived. Never letting his mind rest, continually figuring where the deer would be, and what his options were, he arrived at the hallowed pile of rocks and sat just below them watching and waiting. His thoughts were correct. The deer arrived. A spike buck appeared with some does. Another hunter in the area had put them on alert. Working feverishly to level the cross hairs, he found an opening. A pull of the trigger sealed the deal and another successful hunt was in the books. Back at camp J.T. was very happy. He told his story, louder each time. He smiled a lot. He laughed all night talking about the old times and other deer he and others had killed. Every year he retires from cooking breakfast but the next morning he was up singing and banging pots and pans. He was happy. As I watched him make jokes and talk about those who had not killed a deer yet I hoped that in my seventies I could be as happy over a spike buck as he is right now. I hoped that I would never loose my will to hunt one down. I hoped I would never loose the ability to walk through a swamp and be a true hunter. Lord, may I never scoff at a young buck, killed by a lucky hunter. What is a trophy? Is it a deer you sit in one spot and look at finally determining, well I guess it is big enough, never looking at the land or figuring his actions. Is it climbing into a box and having a guide tell you to shoot or not to shoot. Or is it walking through the acorns, looking at sign, finding his haunts, thinking as he does. J.T. has spent hours lost in the woods because he just couldn't leave a trail. He has been cut, twisted, injured, ran out of batteries, lost a hat, ran out of shells you name it and he has done it. He does it to hunt a buck. He did and does what makes him happy. At seventy plus years he is still happy and he killed an exceptional trophy. Congratulations J.T.!

Looking for some good fishing? Go to Dauphin Island. Just across from Fort Gaines there is a boat ramp. Luke, in the picture is standing on the jetty that protects the ramp. From the end of the jetty, we cast out to sea. He and Hunter caught peacock snapper, croaker, flounder, and right by his feet we saw a fish somewhere in the 70 to 90 lb range and 4 to 5 feet long. It came by two times. Me, I never got to fish. All I did was bait hooks! Not a bad job though when the kids are catching back to back fish. We used shrimp and squid for bait. There is a lot of bank fishing at Dauphin Island. To add to that there were hundreds and thousands of crabs in the surf for the picking. They say they are excellent to eat. Watch out for the stingrays though. You have to do what the locals called the stingray shuffle. Means don't pick your feet up, slide them. If you need more info on hook size, bait, locations, or anything else about Dauphin Island, just send me a message and I'll see what I can do to help. Have yourself some good fishing and don't forget the filet knife.

On a beautiful October afternoon, Hunter and I walk the Mulberry Fork WMA in search of squirrel. Squirrel hunting is a great opportunity to spend time with friends and family, do a little scouting for deer and hone the skills needed to be a woodsman. Hunter is off to a good start and for me it is a chance to return to more simple ways and remember never to underestimate our furry squirrel foe. Although I had seen many squirrel in this area before, Hunter and I returned empty handed. I would say that is what keeps me coming back but I believe if I killed a squirrel each time out, I would still return.

I Smelled the Gun Powder

I Smelled the Gun Powder

Just this week in the blazing heart of summer a gentle breeze began to blow. It was just enough to give you the hint of an early fall day. Just enough to make me think of dove hunting with my friends. I realized although I love the summer, I live for fall. I remembered the excitement of someone calling, "Bird! Bird!" I almost heard someone yell, "Good Shot Rob-bay!" I almost tasted the dust of the field. The great God in heaven has given me a memory. He has given me a field, a bird, and a friend. Maybe that is why that cool breeze made my eyes scan the sky. Maybe it was because I could smell the gun powder.

A Unique Find

Recently while at Indian Creek Youth Camp in Oakman Alabama with the Walker County Wildlife Team, the county agent noticed a unique plant. It is called the Trillium. Only the agent knew what it was at first glance and he was quite pleased to find it. After further research I found out the Trillium is a rather peculiar and beautiful plant. Very habitat specific, it lives under the forest canopy among the understory. It is not widely found in garden shops due to the specific requirement of it's habitat. There are many different varieties of the plant and they all have wonderful flowers in the spring. Thinking about the Trillium, I realized I had not stopped in a long while and looked at the ground. I have not wondered enough about the things around me. I do not know what natural medicines are available. I do not know what this or that plant is. I do not know which plants have what color flowers. Where this unique Trillium resides is just off the main road leading to the camp ball field. No less than 150 people travel by this plant daily and no one even notices. Probably not even when it is in full bloom. If the county agent had not pointed it out, it would have been a weed to me. I don't see a flower. We know where Wal-Greens and CVS are though if we need something. What if.....? What if we had to make do? What if we had to survive? Could we? Not that this plant is used for medicinal purposes but the point is, I don't know what this plant is used for or any other plant for that matter. I didn't stop and say, "Hey look, there is a Trillium." I depend on corporations who depend on money more that anything else, myself and my kids included. I feel a duty and responsibility to look around me and know where I live. I need to know what is available. If I pick it up off the ground is it any less effective than if it comes out of a bottle from the drug store? Is it a liability issue that I trust the drug companies and if for some reason something goes wrong, I can sue them? Why don't I look at this plant and tell my kids, "This plant is a Trillium and it has the most beautiful flower." Would they even care? It would matter to them if it mattered to me. Well, it matters to me. I want to thank this little Trillium for a kick in the pants. It was truely a unique find.

Hunt Game For Me

Genesis 27:3, a very deep verse for me. It was spoken in a time of reflection. A father whom in his failing health wanted his first born to hunt game for him so he could eat of it before he died. The NKJ version of the account reads like this, "Now therefore, please take your weapons and your bow, and go out to the field and hunt game for me" and the KJV also adds to "take me some venison." If you're a hunter and you think hard on this one you might begin to shed a tear. One of the last things Issac wanted to do when he was old and near death was taste wild meat taken by his son Esau. No doubt at least in my mind, they had shared this hunt together many times before, with many good memories. I use a little liberty in my thinking here, it is not recorded, the ways of these two men as outdoorsmen but I see in my mind Issac, and Esau talking in the late nights of the morning hunt. I see them low in the bushes or in a rocky crevace, hearts in their throats as the deer or antelope approach. I see great shots, missed opportunities, Issac with his hand in the sand showing Esau a track. Just a young boy, but with a bow in his hand given to him on his birthday. Arrows sharp and ready. Like me I bet Esau had a favorite arrow or weapon. One he wanted to take game with and did until it was damaged by a floundering deer. No doubt the souvenir put upon his shelf. No longer able to see, Issac new Esau by the smell of the outdoors and he breathed it in. I am sure he listened to every account of Esau's hunting adventures. Obviously Issac could have asked for a sheep in the fold to be prepared and eventually was by Jacob who took away the blessing but there was more to it to him than that. Issac wanted more before he died. He wanted to live again while he ate the savory meat he loved from a place he loved, a place he remembered so well. He even spoke to Jacob whom was decieving him, thinking it was Esau, "How have you found it so quickly my son?" Then he asked the person to come near and he felt of him and smelled him and said, "See, the smell of my son is as the smell of a field which the Lord hath blessed." I could really let my mind go here. I don't know what is due me, how long I will live or how I will die, but I will die. I might hope for a similar if not the same request as Issac. To smell and taste the field once more.

Do You Need a Guide?

Utah Elk, pretty nice. It was shot above 7000 feet. How far above, I don't know. Somewhere in the 9000 range I think. Anyway it is an elk. I am happy with it. I was hoping for a little more competition though. Elk are wary enough but big targets. I have heard of people going out and hunting for long periods of time, never killing an elk. I think mostly their standards and my standards of trophy elk are different. Surely if they had wanted to they could have pulled the trigger. Click, Click, Boom! ya know. I had never been on a guided hunt and likely will never do it again. I liked my guide alright, I just didn't need him. I'm a hunter, there is an elk, where is the mystery. Maybe if I reach out there I am making a little light of the experience. I did walk straight up a mountain for 5 hours. A very steep and grueling mountain. I did spook the whole pile of elk at 400 yards as I was bracing for my shot. After they spooked, I climbed to their position to see the herd a half mile away running into another canyon. As luck would have it however, all of a sudden at 80 yards, I saw this one. He forgot to run and I killed the straggler. I was glad when he fell. With that hunk of meat on the ground, I sat on a rock and let my guide earn his money which included taking the picture at the top of the article and "rendering" the elk. He also packed out the head and the horns while some other people in a six wheeler carried off the meat. I walked out with my rifle on my shoulder. I guess that is what I am talking about. I'm not used to being taken care of. Don't get me wrong, I have recieved a lot of needed help in the woods getting animals out and advice on ways of the woods but I am not yet at least disabled. I have my own ideas and ways. My guide was used to calling the shots for hunter want to be's. Those who care more about the "experiance" and how they can tell a good story than actually doing the dirty work. Southern Whitetail hunters raised in the late 70's and 80's are the best hunters in the world. We don't need guided hunts. After the 80's these young cats might. The "tree sitters" I call them but we do not. For instance, my guide and I got into a cloud somewhere on the mountain. The guide tells me, "Visibility is to bad to kill an elk, we will stop here." Excuse me. I can see clearly out to 40 yards. He sits down and gets out his lunch and begins to eat. I can hear buggling elk withing 100 yards. I did not want to totally offend him so I did take the opportunity to eat a sandwich. After I ate, I said to him, lets get going. He went into this long spill about his experience with these elk, yada, yada, yada. I don't care, get up and let's go hunting. Now he's is mad. He is thinking what kind of idiot am I hunting with today. I tell him what I want to do. He disagrees and promptly spooks three trophy elk that took half the mountains tree tops with them when they busted out of the bed. He appologized fervently and said, "He just didn't get many actual hunters in camp." I forgave the guy and continued up the mountain much more in charge of the situation now. He spoke much after that about southern Whitetail hunters and how well they take to the mountains. Subsequently I killed what I would classify as a nice elk. Bottom line, it was a good experience. Seven inches of snow on the ground at our camp located at seven thousand feet, the first day of October was new to me. Sleeping in a tent with a wood fire, new to me. Taking a cold water shower with 30 mph winds and temperatures in the low teens, new to me. There are many stars over Utah and the silouete of the mountains in the moonlight is not anything I can describe. All new to me, however there is nothing like a mosquito infested, muck filled swamp bottom, in Greene County with the sound of deer sloshing ever closer. To a western guide it would not only be unhuntable, but a nightmare. To me.......Ahhhh. Wonderful.

As my friends walk away from a day of unsuccessful hunting, we laugh, we joke, and we hope that somewhere near this road tommarrow the big one will make a mistake and our aim is true

Enjoy your season

It has been an excellent hunting season for me. Not because I took down a lot of deer although I did take my 100th deer in Illinois this season, a 14 point. I managed a couple deer in Georgia, a nice 4 point included. I also killed a 6 point in Alabama. Its because I have enjoyed each and every day in the field. I hope you enjoy yours. Life is short. Enjoy the sun rise. Watch the sun set. God has made you rich just to be there.