May 13, 2008

Tuesday Shorts

Few comments for the evening.

First of all, congratulations to the Apple Valley Boys Lacrosse team. A win tonight over the might Irish from Rosemount to propel them into the Section Semi-Finals. The lad was excellent. played several good shifts. Now we play again tomorrow against hated Eagen, at Eagen. My only hope is that the weather is better than what we had tonight. It’s the middle of May for goodness sake. It was about 50 degrees and windy…

I’m now a fan of our Governor Pawlenty, turns out some things are universal, and the Pawlenty household is just like ours. He’s catching flak for this comment last weekend.

“I have a wife who genuinely loves to fish. I mean, she will take the lead and ask me to go out fishing, and joyfully comes here,” he told radio station WCCO. “She loves football, she’ll go to hockey games and, I jokingly say, ‘Now, if I could only get her to have sex with me.’”

Looks like we have something in common.
Watched Amazing Grace this evening. Fantastic movie about the abolition of the slave trade by Great Britain. Highly recommended. But know I loves me a good ole historical drama.

hmmm. when I sat down to write this I had a ton of fun snippets in mind. Now.. I got nuthin. Maybe later folks, maybe later.

May 12, 2008

M Day at Wal-Mart

Wal-Mart is always a good place to go when I’m running short of material. Sunday was no exception. As part of our Mothers Day Celebration and Commemoration we (the Jock and I) cleaned out the garage. In Minnesota a spring garage cleaning is mandatory, if for nothing else to remove the pounds of gravel that accumulates in your garage thanks to our road departments snow and ice removal efforts. Up here, tons of the stuff are dropped on the streets all winter long, only to be dragged in to the garage as part of the compacted snow that accumulated in the wheel wells and under the fenders of cars. I’m also noticing that our cement garage floor is much more pitted than I remember from previous years. Thank the salt for that.

Essential in the Spring cleaning process is the putting to sleep of the winter tools and the resurrection of the summer ones. As I put the Stabil into the trusty snowblower I said a little prayer.. a prayer of thanks, for all its faithful service this winter, and a little add on that by the grace of G-d this had better be the last damn time I use the thing until late into December. I’m thinking I’m safe on that note. Of course you would thought that in April too, but we got 20 inches of snow in April…

The Lawnboy woke up with no problem.. Nate promptly pushed her around the yard for our first lawn harvest of the year. I don’t do much right with lawns.. but I do fertilize the first week in November, like clockwork… which means that the roots of the lawn grow a bit under the snow, and when the snow finally melts, I always have the greenest and lushest lawn on block. Lasts about three weeks then everyone else catches up and I start going to the lake and ignoring my lawn.. making me friendly with the neighbors.

The ride-on mower however… well she didn’t wake up as easily as the other tools. She’s spent the winter in the back of the garage making sure assorted toys and tools and an old computer don’t touch the ground. Digging her out I saw that her annual flat tire was, well flat as it always is this time of year. It’s a game, we fill it up about three times a summer and I pledge to fix it, and I never do. We have an agreement that way. This year however, the battery was also dead. The old girl wasn’t going anywhere.

Since any good garage cleaning starts with the annual “pulling of the crap out of the garage” exercise I needed to get a new battery. In the past I’ve charged the battery in these situations, however this year I found myself without a charger. Last year I had two, one at the lake and one at home. The one at home was loaned out to the Israeli cousin last fall for his car. Apparently growing up on the metric system prohibits one from understanding voltage and what not. He recharged his battery at 50 amps (the setting used to start a dead car, not charge) for three days. When he returned the charger, with a sheepish grin, the thing had scorch marks on the side and smelled like a mouse caught in a bug zapper.

So, new battery, means trip to the Wallies Emporium. I don’t spend a tremendous amount of time in Wal-Mart, despite its proximity to me. I’m not all that big about climbing over shit stacked in the aisles to get to other shit.. I also find myself wondering, every time I’m in there.. “Where in the hell do these people come from?” the place is loaded with folks you almost never see in Apple Valley. Actually I saw the same crowd one time at the local Mongolian Asian Vietnamese all you can eat place. They come out when they serve all you can eat crab. This is the crowd who consider white rice an exotic grain. This is also the crowd who wear shorts all year because their calves don’t fit in anything but sweatpants. You’d see these 400 pounders filling plate after plate with piles of crab leg scarfing away, shirts stained with crab juice and rice… could have been the grossest thing I’ve ever seen in a restaurant. They eat there, then pop over to Wal Mart for Tums and weight loss products. Needless to say the Asian place quickly stopped serving crab and I quickly stopped going in there.

Anyway, Red and I made the trek to the megalow mart. We parked in the back, by the automotive entrance. I figured that we’d found a way to avoid the whole front entrance thing at Wal Mart. No parking, hundreds of the largest people you’ve ever seen in your life fighting over the managers specials in the front of the store, the nauseating smell of the baking bread at the Subway franchise, the ugly kids on the wall of the portrait studio.. all badness. We snuck in the back door passing a Coup Deville with a punched in front grill. In the Automotive department I asked about the battery for our lawn tractor.

Goober- “You’re gonna haf’ta look up tha model in that book”

Sank- “Seriously? I just need a lawn tractor battery.”

Goober- “Them are all different, you gotta look’um up”

Sank- “When I bought this one I just found Lawn and Garden on the side and bought it”

Goober- “Is this’n on warrenty? You get some money back if it is.”

Sank- “I don’t think it is, but if you want to check you can be my guest.”

Goober looked it over and remarked “Can find no number on this’n”

The batter I had was from Fleet Farm. The store I probably should have gone to in the first place.

Goober- “I ain’t sure we can return this one.”

Sank- “call me crazy, but do you honor warranties form a competitor?”

Goober “A what?”

Sank- “Fleet Farm.. its from Fleet Farm”

Goober- We can’t take back no Fleet Farm battery”

Sank- “got it, but you can recycle it and then I can avoid the $10.00 surcharge”

Goober “Oh.. yeah you kin do that. Did you want another batter then?”

At this point I’m flabbergasted.

“Well, since this one is dead.. a replacement would be nice”

Goober “they’re over there. You gotta look up the model in the book, lemmie help ya”.

Full circle now.

Grabbing the book he asked “what model do you have?”

My turn to be stupid.

Sank- “Crap I forgot. Eric what model lawn mower do we have?”

Eric – “A black one”

Sank- “There ya go.. black”.

Goober “They’re all back ‘sept for John Deere. Them are green”.

I swear I’m in the twilight zone.

For some reason when I’m trying to remember useless stuff like the names of people or lawn equipment, I can usually remember the first letter of the name if nothing else.

Sank- “Starts with a ‘P’”

Eric – “Poulan”

Goober- “OK… lets see here… You don’t know the model number do you?”

Sank “I don’t”

Goober “Well, I ain’t sure we can help you ‘till you get the model number. You can use the phone if ya want ta axe someone”.

Sank- “Lemmie see the book”

Looking at the book I see that there are about 20 different model numbers for Pouhlan Tractors. Then I notice the following remarkable circumstance. The battery model number for every one is the same. U-71. On closer examination I see that for every brand, every tractor, the model number is U-71.

Sank- “Eric, come ‘ere. Am I crazy or are all these numbers the same?” he agreed. “hey Goober, where’s U-71 on the wall here.”

Goober- “Them are at the bottom there. Where it says lawn and garden equipment. Oh, and we’re out of ‘um. Oops Break time.. Anything else I can ‘hep ya with?”

Sank- “Why start now.”

Goober took of on a break, replaced by a guy who actually looked and talked like he’d successfully finished the second grade. “Oh, you want a tractor battery. They’re all the same size.. we’re out of the U-71, but you can get the premium version for a bit more. It’s U-71R.”

Sank- “seriously? What’s the difference?”

New Guy- “Well, the base one is $20.00, the premium is $25.00”

Sank- “That’s the only f#$ing difference? WHY ARE WE HAVING THIS STUPID DISCUSSION”.

New Guy “Well, that’s about a 20% difference Sir.”

Great, a math genius stuck at Wal Mart.

I relayed the discussion I had with his coworker. “Yeah, he likes to do things by the book. We’re supposed to verify the model numbers. And yup they’re all the same.”

We paid and walked out. They lock the back door so we had to be buzzed out. On the way we passed Ole Goober and angry looking dude looking over the Caddie in the bay.

Goober- “Sir did’ja know your hood don’t open?”

Dude- “Yeah, she’s stuck for some reason”.

Goober- “We gonna have a hard time changing the oil if we kaint open up the hood Sir”

Dude- “I guess so, I don’t know why the things stuck”.

Red, my son looked up at me “Hmm ya think the fact that you hit something and bent up the grill and hood has anything to do with it? “

Sank- “You’re too smart son”.

When we got home Mrs S asked what “Took you so damn long”.

Red responded before I could “Jeez Mom, it’s like Moron day at Wal-Mart”

I’m so proud. So was his Mother. “Ahh Wal Mart, Moron day is every day at Wal Mart dude.”

May 11, 2008

Frustration Fly Style

Friday I had the opportunity to get over the Rush River again with a couple good friends. The Rush is one of those small spring fed rivers that keep trout guys thinking all year long. It’s also one of those rivers, typical in Wisconsin, where most of the stream bank is in public trust making it accessible to middle-aged fat guys in rubber pants. 

I got the invitation to go on Thursday and after much consternation decided that the fact that my calendar was completely empty was in fact a sign from the Fates that I was supposed go fishing. 

For me, a fly fishing trip to the Rush looks like this. Get to the river about 8:00 am. Walk upstream from the car park, hit the several holes I like, spend a 1/2 hour in each, always moving mind you, then make your way back to the car. Call it a 4 hour excursion. If you’re interested in the evening hatch, well just wait until about 4:00 and do the same thing. 

The fellows I was fishing with are a bit harder core than that. For them a day on the river means; start at 8:00, spend several hours in each spot, and if the fish aren’t biting, stay on the river and wait for the evening hatch. Whenever that comes. This is a strategy that doesn’t work with my adult onset ADD. It doesn’t work for a couple reasons… 

We stopped for breakfast a greasy spoon miles north of where we were going to be fishing. The direct route from Apple Valley Minnesota to Ellsworth Wisconsin is to go through Hastings, crossing the Mississippi at Hastings. Since the collapse of the freeway bridge in Minneapolis last summer the state of Minnesota has started getting serious about bridge inspections and, what they’ve found, is the bridge in Hastings, well lets just say you don’t like hearing officials saying “lucky” and “bridge” in the same sentence. In order to reduce weight on the structure while they repair it, they’ve reduced traffic to one lane. 20 minutes east bound.. then they allow 20 minutes west bound. Meaning 40 minutes at least it seems, to cross the thing. 

That’s 40 minutes at least.. plus 2 minutes of thought provoking mental discourse with yourself as you cross the sucker thinking about the State Transportation guy’s comment “We’re sure the bridge is actually safe, but so far we’ve been lucky.” I’m not sure how those to words go together, but without giving it too much thought the better answer is GO AROUND. 

Around means 10 miles upstream or who knows how far downstream. 

At breakfast, the guys ordered some hefty meals. I was so proud of my new eating light lifestyle choice, that I almost crossed the line to smug, a decision I would come to regret about 2:00 when, while on the river I realized that, to my dismay, we were NOT in fact going to stop for lunch.. Live and learn. 

When we finally did get back on the river, the day was fantastic. The foliage is still quite low from winter, making the woods and the stream bank feel more like a park than anything else. Experience is, in about 4 weeks the weeds will be about 8′ high and nearly impassible. 

The fishing was, well it was really really slow. So slow I didn’t even see any fish as I was walking along the bank. Moving up the bank I followed my friend as he started treking upstream. We went farther up than I’d ever been. Following the water we came to a fence with home made cattle gate. The sign on the fence said, “Please respect my fence by not damaging it. Have a nice day.” I assume that means come through the narrow gate. The problem was, the gate was designed for about a 34 waist.. which for me corresponds to about the 8th grade. As I attempted to shimmy my fat ass through it I caught my waders on a piece of barbed wire.. Barbed wire is the sworn enemy of all plastic pants and I managed to tear a nice hole in mine. Luckily it was well above the point where I was planning on entering the water so it wasn’t a show stopper. 

Moving into the river I stepped over the fence and we kept going. As we got up farther we came to a pasture, the river at that point was hugging the side of a very steep cliff of about 100′ in hight. The was greenish blue limestone, decorah shale. Neat for a backdrop. The river had a few spots where rocks from the cliff had dropped in making some nice eddys and pools. At the most promising one my pal tied on a beadhead prince nymph and promptly plucked a 15 inch brown from the water. Nice fish. Buoyed by this development I tied on and started fishing. 

Fishing is more about the place it takes you than the fishing. Alright, that BS, but it is about the scenery. The beauty of flyfishing in a stream is you never know what’s just around the bend. In this case the scenery would change dramatically as we moved upstream, and it was all beautiful. 

There has a been a new development in my fly fishing world this year. The development is I can not tie on a fly without wearing glasses. It sucks. My arms aren’t long enough to hold back the fly and the line to see where the eyelet on the bug is. With my glasses, it’s a whole new world. This trip was the first time I brought my glasses, and spent I the morning switching between readers and sunglasses, a pain in the butt frankly. 

We continued to fish, and for the next 3 hours caught nothing. Nada. I did find a long deep pool with tons of fish in it.. when I would cast my bug, I could see fish coming up to look at it. They’d examine the bug, and return to the deep, rejecting me in a way I felt sort of personal about. A rejection mad more acute when one my buddies came lumbering up the stream and cast into the same pool 6 tunes and caught 3 fish, including the “big one” I had dubbed General Sherman. I don’t know where it came from, but every big fish I ever see I dub General Sherman. Sherman turned out to be an 16 inch brook trout. Monster for that species. Obviously Shermie is also a picky SOB and a massive tease. I wanted to fillet his ass but he lives, returned to the stream to fight again. 

 By about 2:00 I started to realized that these dudes were hardcore and we weren’t getting off the stream for a long time. Frankly I was started to get a bit hungry and since I hadn’t caught but one small fish the whole day, I was ready to do something else with my day. Not wanting to come across as the pansy in the deal I walked down stream a bit to cast to a bunch of fish I’d seen rising in a flat stretch of river. Deciding to switch out from nymph to dry fly, I went to switch glasses. There was a little plink sound as the left lens from my reading glasses fell out of the frame and into the river. There was a louder sound as the “F” word resonated across the river valley as I watched the lens sink into the stream. Luckily I found the lens but because I just had to have those trendy “Framless” glasses a few years ago, there was no popping the lens back into the frame for me, I was screwed. 

Moving back up stream, I explained what happened and was told.. “get some cheaters”. Good idea, but seeing as how I did not remember passing a Target on my hike upstream I didn’t see how that could help. Kindly my pals tied on a new bug for me and I went back to fishing. 

The next several hours were spent throwing dry flies at rising fish, not one of which made a pass at the bug  had one. I didn’t feel to badly as no one else caught anything either. There’s few things more frustrating that standing in a pool,  with fish jumping all around you, throwing everything in your box at them, only watch one fly after another drift through the ripples of slurping fish unmolested. 

Finally, at about 5:00 the leader of our little band called time and off we went. Score for the day, was 21 hours of fishing between all of us, for 11 fish. 9 for one guy, one each for the other two. Still it was a good day, the only thing I would have rather been doing was helping my company achieve even better results by being in the office. Not. 

May 9, 2008

Long week

This has been a LOOOOONNGGG ASSED Week… Sorry for the lack of posting going on but there’s just been no time.

To recap:

Monday- Scouts, groceries store, Lacrosse game for the Jock.

Tuesday- Masons meeting, regular stated meeting. Leave for work at 6:15, arrive home 11:00.

Wednesday- Kids and I go to Israel 60th Anniversary party at the Metrodome. How can this people, our folks, organize their own damn country, and not be able to feed the crowd that shows up. They sold out of food. Actually, the fact they ran out of food was lost on the folks who were selling food tickets. So for about a half hour you could stand in line for a ticket. Then go stand in line where the food used to be to learn that there was no food.

Thursday- Red’s DeMolay. Planning the spaghetti feed on Saturday. Long night, arrive home with the girl and Red at 10:00. Mrs S and the Jock aren’t home yet Lacrosse across town. They get back at 11:00.

Friday- out fly fishing on the Rush. Leaving at 6:30, I arrived on the river with my mentor and a buddy. Fish from 10:00 to 5:00… that ws a long ass day. End of a long ass week.

End the day with a Wisconsin tradition. The Wisconsin Fish Fry. Actually, one of the best I’ve ever been too.

Now, I’m pooped. All day in the fresh air.. Ironically I did run into my dermatologist on the stream this afternoon. He didn’t recognize me.

Tomorrow I’m sleeping in. ‘night all.

May 5, 2008

One more, the last noodling


Movie 6

Originally uploaded by GSankary

May 5, 2008

More Noodling


Movie 5

Originally uploaded by GSankary

May 5, 2008

The Family

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The Family, originally uploaded by GSankary.

May 4, 2008

Eagle Scout

The long anticipated Eagle Ceremony was today (for you UK readers, Queen Scout).. fantastic day for the lad and Mom..

Just you so can imagine that you were there, here the speech I wrote…

Nate, this is quite day…

A lot of parents have exceptional kids, and a lot of kids do exceptional things. That being said, few parents will ever have honor of watching their son achieve as remarkable an award as your Mom and I have the privilege of doing today.

But even more than this rank, and the honor it signifies,

this is about the person you have become Nate. The choices which we see you making everyday, from the friends you keep to your commitment to school, to the way you spend you free time. This is about character, sense of duty, and strong values, these the sum of which makes you the outstand young mad you are today.

My feeling is that the most important lesson that you’ve learned along the path to Eagle is one that I see you demonstrate all time; It is your keen understanding of the rewards that are achieved, and the successes which are bought, through hard work and perseverance. AND If you take nothing away from this experience but that one lesson… I have every confidence that you are well on the path towards great success in anything that you choose to do.

Know that you Mom and I are unbelievably proud of the young man you have become.

I don’t want to sound to mushy, but it does seem like along time ago that you and I attended our first Tiger Cub organization meeting, you were in the first grade at the time. Back then I had no idea that this would be the eventual result. My frame of reference being my own scouting career which capped out at second class. I learned early that uh.. camping wasn’t for me.. a lesson I’ve carried with me all my life..

But you stuck with it, And it’s been a great pleasure to see you grow and learn with this organization, doing great things, participating in adventures every summer which sound fantastic, up until the accommodations part… even though I’m still working through my personal disappointments mostly around Pine Wood Derby..but my therapist tells me I’m close to be over that, the things you’ve done and the confidence and character you display now are amazing.

That being said, I feel very strongly that we would be seriously remiss in this ceremony if we didn’t take just a brief second and recognize this; That there are very few achievements of this magnitude in a persons life, which are attained without the support and encouragement of a some sort community.

The folks in the room Nate, many of whom many have become an extended family to you and our family over the years, to all them you owe a thanks. A thanks for building the amazingly strong units you’ve been in, for putting on the fantastic programs you’ve participated in, and for being there all along the way with all of the countless little acts of encouragement and support which made this experience so great, and at the same time kept you motivated and on task for all these years.

Finally, I know you’d agree that we have to take at least a brief second or two and recognize the one person who is undoubtedly the most responsible for today. I don’t have to tell you what a great Mom you have, but in this context, for the last 10 years, your Mom has been there for you and for scouting, she has put in countless hours volunteering with the pack and the troop, leading merit badges, working with dens, leading patrols, and leading a group at Phillmont… the list goes on and on and on

IN the end, however, you’re the guy who did the work and you’re the guy who stuck with it, and at the end of the day, you should be proud of this, and know that all of us here today are proud as well.

May 3, 2008

Turkeys, chasing turkeys- A rite of spring.

Here in the Frozen North, for most of outdoorsy types, April is a difficult month. The transition from winter mode to summer mode, it’s sort of like the spring time change.. it shouldn’t be a big deal but it is, and it sneaks up on you. Winter sports, here in Minnesota involve the thrill of cheating death as you drive a 2000 lb vehicle across frozen lakes where three months prior boats were bobbing around. No matter how many times you’ve heard the cracking sound ice makes when you’re driving on it, or for that matter when you’re just sitting on it and it’s freezing and thawing and shifting, its always a bit disconcerting.

 

By April, the ice on the lakes is on longer safe, I’m sorry I’m just not one of those guys who is going to walk across a ladder placed across the open water at the edge of the lake, to get in one last day of ice fishing, no matter how well the panfish are biting. Thank you. Since the lakes aren’t going to open up around here until much later in April, and since the fishing seasons for gamefish are closed until later in May, a sportsman’s mind drifts to trout fishing and, the king of spring sports, turkey hunting.

 

The story of turkey’s in Minnesota is one the great conservation success stories, on par with the bald eagle and peregrine falcon. The wild turkey was extirpated from Minnesota in the early 1900’s. To be honest, their numbers were never that great here, even back in the “old” days, Minnesota being on the very northern end of their range. At their widest distribution they were only found in the southeastern corner of the state, in the bluff country along the Mississippi river.  In the 1970’s the Department of Natural Resources began a reintroduction program to bring the birds back to their original range, with the cautious hope that one day they might become numerous enough that a limited hunting season could be offered.. Birds were brought in from Missouri, I think they were swapped for loons or Schell  beer or something. Anyway, from the original 50 odd birds released in 1970, we now have an estimated population in the state of 70,000 birds. Their range now goes well beyond their original distribution expanding through the Twin Cities and into central Minnesota, areas where most biologists didn’t think they could survive.

 

They’re so many birds around here that the sight of flocks of the prehistoric looking birds feeding on side of roads and in fields is commonplace. In some suburbs they’ve even become a problem, chasing kids and mailmen as they defend “their” yards and territories. It’s come to the point where it’s rare that I don’t see a couple birds on my way to and from work. Even seems that about once a year or so there is a local story about some wayward tom getting into somebody’s house, either flying through a window or strolling in a back door and, upon being surprised by a person, (actually I’m guessing both parties were somewhat shocked) do what any 25lb bird with an 6’ wing span would do.. trash the place.

 

Against this background of abundance, it would seem easy enough to leap to the conclusion that turkey hunting would be not all that tough.

 

Enter Joe.

 

I have a good friend here, Joe, who also fancies himself a bit of a sportsman. Joe also has the tremendous fortune of having a sister who married a guy who’s family owns about 200 acres of farmland in the heart of the turkey belt. This spot is so good, that I can honestly say I’ve never been out there and NOT seen birds. You’d think it was a turkey sanctuary it that good.

 

One of the reasons Joe is such a good friend, is that he and I are an awful lot alike in many many ways, and most of them, not good. Joe, like me, has, despite his best efforts, an attention span of about 10 minutes on any given topic. He also, like me, has way to much going on in his life, and his mind, to worry to much about details. He also, like me, prefers to roll with things as they come as opposed to creating a plan and executing to it.

 

Which, is a bit of problem for turkey hunting, as it happens  in Minnesota, in order to participate in the spring hunt you have to apply by entering a drawing for a permit. And, you have to apply by December 1st. This little fact of preplanning alone kept Joe and I out of the sport for two years as we couldn’t remember to get into the store and apply for a permit until the day before we wanted to go hunting. The other thing is you have to know, five months ahead of time, the weekend that you want to go hunting to make sure you go for the right mini-season. That’s a lot to know for a married guy.

 

The last several years Joe and I have been lucky enough to draw a permit and as such, have also by the grace of G-d been able to free up the weekend we actually signed up for. We did learn however, once again being idiots, that the first two years we were out there hunting that we did in fact, have the wrong tags. The state of Minnesota, to better manage local populations of birds, has the state broken up into small zones. Hunters are required to select their spot by zone and by 4 day window of time. Because we apparently can’t read a map, coupled by Joes lack of knowledge as to exactly where his property is.. we were licensed in the wrong zone. Good thing the good Lord saw fit to keep us killing anything those first few years. Little did we know we’d be basking in His continence for a long time to come. I mean come on, we’re all researched and all studied up and such, and still neither one of us has exactly shot one. Here the deal..

 

Spring turkey hunting is one of those great outdoor experiences that you read about in Outdoor Life and Field and Stream. In the spring you are specifically targeting the male, or gobbler turkeys. When the weather warms these birds start to assemble their harems of hens and start the process of making new turkeys. The goal then, is to convince these love struck birds to come within about 40 yards of your shotgun, while you are hiding in woods, in full camo, camo scarf over your face, gloves, shoes, wrapping around your gun, sitting as still as you can, twitching away on a call, trying to sound like the worlds sluttiest turkey hen.

 

Turkey hunters spend a great deal of time with their calls, trying to imitate the sultry tones of a female bird looking for some action. The also learn to imitate gobblers, owls and crows, as male turkeys will answer to all of these calls.. the other thing we study is how the big birds spend their day. Turkeys typically roost in a tree overnight, typically the same one several nights in a row, dropping out of the tree at the first crack of dawn to feed and warm up, and then spend the rest of the day walking around looking for new hens, with whom they haven’t yet had the pleasure, who would like to join their extended family. Sort of like what’s been going in Texas these last few weeks. We hunters are required to scout the land a bit before we go out, see where they’re roosting, see where the big girls hang out, and then figure out where we want to set up the ambush in the morning.

 

The right way is to do it is to be settled into position and ready go about ½ hour before sunrise. That’s the first impediment to our success. I’m an early riser, but only to a point. Joe, like me, same deal. Since it’s about an hour drive to the property from our house, and since the first rays of the new day crack the horizon at about 4:45 in April in Minnesota, we’d have to be up and on the road at about 3:45 to get to the spot on time. We typically arrive about 6:30, some years closer to 8:00.

 

This year, we thought we had it nailed. Arriving earlier than we’d ever arrived before. We were, for the first time actually walking into the field by 5:00. It was mostly dark. We were quite proud of ourselves. We put on the gear, grabbed the guns and the shells. BTW, Note that I bought I box of 5 turkey loads about 7 years ago for my first hunt.. I’m proud to say that as evidence of my success in the field, I am is still carrying those same 5 shells into the field, they’ve become a part of me.  Strolling into the woods we were chatting about what were going to different this year, as opposed to the previous 8, when we didn’t get birds. Mistake #1. Stealth walking into a turkey blind under a roost is just not the time to be engaged in conversation, but the fact is, we couldn’t shut up. Walking into the woods we arrived at the roost just in time to see the last startled bird fly off into the dawn, awakened and flushed by our conversation. “Wow, I didn’t know they could fly that well” Joe remarked as the 30lb gobbler tookoff into the predawn sky. That’s amazing. Yeah that’s what it is all right.

 

I looked at Joe with a bit of a pained face.. “they’ll be back”. “Really” he asked? “Why, because they want to go back bed or something?” Good point.  We promptly set some decoys and plopped down with our backs to trees. The secret of turkey hunting is patience. Waiting quietly..  not something a couple guys with ADD are any good at. We lasted about 15 minutes.

 

“see the Twins game list night?” “Yup..” and off we went chatting. About an hour into the day, we had seen some birds but for some reason they wouldn’t get more than about 100 yards away. “They’re looking at our decoys”… “they’re answering our calls but they’re hung up for some reason. They don’t want to come in.” “Maybe, it’s because we’re talking”, “could be, maybe it’s ‘cause you’ve gotten up twice Sank”. My ass hurts.. That and the curse. There’s two things that always happen when I settle into a difficult blind.. 1) I have to crap.. never freakn fails and 2) I start thinking about ticks. Ticks become active in the spring and we turkey hunters are their favorite things. When I’m sitting in the woods trying my best to be silent I start imagining little sensations on my skin that I’m sure are ticks. They’re everywhere, crawling all over me and… AGGG I gotta get for a second. That being said, my concern is legit, my personal record after a hunt is 12 found. Not as many I’ve after falling asleep on a stream bank flyfishing one time.. but then again, I was in a short sleeve shirt at that time and there was more delicious Sank flesh exposed. And the there was the first year in the field. I came in the house, still in full camo, sat on the sofa for a spell, got up and was promptly greeted my Mrs S screaming. There were three or four of the little devils crawling on the furniture after I got up. Now I have to get undressed in the garage.

 

Meanwhile, back in the field the great white short attention-spanned hunters decided to shut up

 

There’s a religious feeling about being in the woods early in the morning, hearing the birds, the occasional gobble in the distance, the coyote calling.. it’ so peaceful. The wind in the trees… the  passing…..  of….     time ……  I remember thinking “how long have I been here?” Looking at the watch, about 10 minutes. Then 5 minutes more.. then another 5.

 

Something about quiet and stillness cause me to have some bad thoughts. I started staring at my decoy in a weird way. When you’re holding a gauge with 2 shot, bored, staring a plastic bird for 3 hours, your mind starts to ask “I wonder what would happen if just…” What the heck, I’d like to know if these old shells still work. As I was lining up the bead on the old girl Joe intervened, .. “Don’t..” ‘Don’t what?” I asked.. hoping I hadn’t transmitted my demented thought. “Don’t shoot your decoy.. I’m thinking shooting a decoy on purpose is a serious sign of mental issues. Then again”, Joe said, “I was thinking the same thing myself.” Boredom.

 

I stopped thinking and started hunting, which in this case looks a lot like meditating. I actually started enjoying the quiet, thinking about coffee, home, Mrs S.. …  and  Joe for some freakinsh reason.

 

I was thinking about Joe I realized, because he was hissing at me.. “Dude… DUDE.” I could hear him, but I couldn’t’ answer for some reason.. “GARY” at that I opened my eyes just in time to see a tom fly off my decoy. If she were real, she’d have been smoking a cigarette by then. I missed the whole thing completely. .. Looking at my watch, I was a bit surprised to see that 35 minutes had passed since the last time I looked at it. That,and my back was killing me.

 

Joe got up and walked around the tree to me shaking his head.. “ Oh My G-d. You totally missed your chance.. YOU were freak’n out cold“ Apparently I’d been sleeping. I looked up at him through blurry sleepy eyes, “Shees man, why didn’t you take a shot at it?” Turns out Joe woke up just before I did. Looking at the watch it was about 8:30. Should we move? We decided to move to another field, on the way back to the car, we also decided to go to a nearby coffee shop and get some breakfast and coffee before settling in again.. let’s go eat and come back. Famous last words.

 

The part of Minnesota we were hunting in is in transition from rural country to suburban sprawl. There are some nice new homes out there, and we’re pretty certain there aren’t going to be a lot years left where we can hunt this property. Yuppies don’t like to see guys in full camo, carrying guns, walking on their roads, no matter how much the hunters make during the workweek.

 

Well if they don’t like them on their roads, they especially don’t like to see them in their Perkins Coffee Shops, which is exactly where Joe and I went. Imagine the waiting area.. young couples with kids, older couples and folks dressed up for golf or tennis and two guys in head to toe camo, unshaven, dirt and mud caked on their boots, waiting for table. The stares were excellent.

 

Taking our table I ran to the bathroom. On the way back I noted that the floor in this place was sort of dirty. Unusual for a Perkins. Joe got up to use the toilet and on the way back I saw the cleaning guy following behind him with a  bucket. Apparently, all the dirt on the floor was from our boots. Whoops. After a breakfast of pancakes, eggs, coffee and juice, we headed back out the field. Arriving on the service road to the field we were going to hunt we flushed a flock of about 6 birds as we pulled in.

 

Sitting there staring at the spot where the birds were.. I looked at Joe and shook my head..

“You know Joe, I’ve got some things today..” “Me too”. He said, “I don’t think we’re going see those birds again”, “Neither do I”.

 

“Joe” I said. “Yeah” he replied looking out into the now empty field sort of forelorn. “Joe, this just me talking here, but we just might have to come to the conclusion, that we suck at this”.

 

“That’s what I was thinking”. 

May 2, 2008

Some More Short

More stuff of goings on around here…

OK here’s the deal.. big weekend in the Sank House this weekend, the Jocks big Eagle Scout Ceremony. The InLaws are flying in from the Bay Area, via Hawai’i… They aren’t going to be happy. Not one bit. Tonight the weather dudes are calling for a couple inches of snow. It’s MAY NOW HELLO… the winter of 2008 never ends. I’m feeling like I live in Narnia. 

 

Read the paper, watch the news, listen to the radio… if you weren’t depressed to begin with it’s only a short time before you get to the point where your downright funky.. which is about where I’m at. Thanks all BTW for the nice words and such from my last post.. So that being said.. this was two nights ago..

Sank: Man… this housing market thing is a problem. 

Mrs S: Indeed

Sank: Credit crunch.. no good

Mrs S: Nope

Sank: Did you see the health benefits renewal information for 2008? Holy Cow, 20% increase in premiums. 

Mrs S: Saw it

Sank: I’m a little worried about a Hezbollah deal… they’re thinking a major attack next week at Israel’s 60th anniversary deal

Mrs S: Yup, not surprised 

Sank: BTW, did you notice that I’ve not been to the ATM in a month? 

Mrs S: Saw that… 

Sank: Doc sent a note on my blood work.. worried about my blood sugar.. 

Mrs S: Saw that too..

Sank: I’ve had my last dessert ever. I’m going to give up scotch too. 

Mrs S: Your choice

Sank: I have an allergy appointment Monday, I’m thinking I’ll cancel it, nothings working anyway

Mrs S: OK MR… If you’re going to live in Misery Land.. go do it somewhere else.. Self pity stinks

Good point.. except for the blood sugar thing… 

Mrs S: Sank one thing… Take your dog with you. 

Giggs.. Going through the bathroom trash and spreading some the contents there in all over the floor of the bedroom does not make him very popular with Mrs S. He picked a bad time of the month to do it, making him even more popular… 

So I’ve moved passed misery and am back to crumdgeonly. More to come today as I have time. 

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