Hunts with Morrie

“Why don’t you write about hunting with Grampa?” That was a recent suggestion from my daughter, referring not to my father but to my father-in-law, Morrie, her personal hero, who died a dozen years ago. If he were still living he’d be 100 years old and would like nothing better than to tell some hunting stories. His father lived to past age 101, so the longevity genes were there, though in the end, Parkinson’s trumped longevity.

Morrie did plenty of hunting for probably 70 of his 88 years, but turkey hunting became a favorite in later years. He and his wife, Bernelda, now 95 and living in a Glendive nursing home, loved to pack up their pickup camper and head to the Long Pines area near Ekalaka, in southeastern Montana. They’d gotten acquainted with a rancher there and, as was the case literally hundreds of times, they got to be fast friends with the family.

We’d given him a box-type turkey call for Christmas one year and that spring, while camping in the pines, he was relaxing by the door of the camper practicing his turkey call. “You’d better look up,” Bernelda whispered to him, drawing his attention to a flock of turkeys gathered around, curious about turkey sounds coming from the camper. Wild turkey was on the menu the next family gathering.

Morrie grew up in a small northwestern North Dakota town where his father owned a general store, and hunting was a way of life. He often reminisced of a stormy October day when his father came to the high school and asked for Morrie to be excused for the afternoon. They went out to a cornfield and took shelter next to corn shocks and spent the afternoon shooting at ducks coming into the cornfield, with both shooting limits of something like 25 ducks each. Those limits seem almost unreal these days, but they offer a glimpse into days when flocks of ducks would literally darken the skies.

Morrie owned just one shotgun over his many years, a 20-gauge Winchester Model 12 pump action shotgun, and he was an example of the person competitive shooters learn to not bet against: the guy with just one gun. Morrie was a crack shot with any firearm and occasionally showed off by throwing a coin in the air and shooting it with a .22 rifle. Hitting a moving target with a shotgun was easy.

My wife tells of a fall day in her growing-up years when she accompanied her dad on a pheasant hunt. They were walking across a field when he stepped in a hole and lost his balance a bit and his shotgun accidentally discharged. He recovered his balance and with this startled look on his face said, “I think this is the first time this gun ever went off without hitting something.”

She remembers other outings, especially one when, after a picnic lunch, he climbed up on a straw pile and jumped off, doing a somersault before landing. She says, “I particularly remember his first putting his hands down to cover his pockets so he wouldn’t lose anything from them. Then my sister and I also did somersaults after he showed us how to do it.”

My wife also recalls when Morrie and her uncle had gone duck hunting and found some ducks caught in a sudden freeze, frozen into the ice on a pond. They chipped them free and brought the half-frozen but still living ducks home and took them in the house. The ducks revived as they thawed out and started running and quacking around the house, much to the delight of the children. “Mother wasn’t a happy camper about wild ducks in the living room,” my wife recalls with a smile, adding that they released the ducks after they’d recovered.

Morrie experienced the glory years of waterfowl and the WWII-era explosion of pheasant populations in eastern Montana. I’d give almost anything for the chance to have gone on some of those long-ago hunts.

Marrying his daughter turned out to be a pretty good deal, of course—though I still wish I had gotten his shotgun, too.

A First Time on the River!

My fishing partner patiently waiting for me to catch a fish...or find something for her to eat.

The air temperature was 50˚, though the wind blowing down the Madison River’s Beartrap Canyon felt much colder as I stepped into the river’s icy waters.

There was nothing I could do about the wind. It certainly wasn’t a surprise. The only surprises about wind along the Madison River are days when it isn’t blowing.

Wind or no wind, it seemed important to take advantage of a relatively warm day and go fishing. My last fishing outing was back in October, a few days before the pheasant season began, which now seems ages ago. Flicka, my Labrador retriever, agreed. She watched me gather clothing and gear and started barking in excitement. We do daily retrieving sessions and take frequent long walks but that’s hardly a substitute for a real outing, if I interpreted her barks and body language correctly.

There was another reason for a fishing outing. When Santa Claus stopped at our house at Christmas he dropped off a new fly rod along with other goodies and that rod has been talking to me lately, suggesting it was time to head for a river and give it a good baptism.

That baptism turned out to be more literal than figurative. As I stepped into the water something distracted me and I accidentally dropped that new rod into the river. I dropped a rod in the Big Hole River a couple years ago and was horrified to see the current sweep it away. This time there was no problem. The water was crystal clear and calm at the edge of the river. I just picked it up and shook it off. No harm done.

I wish I could tell tales of splashy rises and scrappy fish putting a good bend on the new rod but that story will wait for another outing. The fish simply weren’t biting. According to other anglers, there was some action happening before the wind came up but the fun came to a rapid halt when the wind began to blow.

Catching fish is better than not catching fish but we’ll make up for it as the weather warms up and fish get more active. The new rod works, my waders didn’t leak and I still remember how to use a fly rod. I’ve had worse outings.

Flicka enjoyed the outing, keeping company with me in the icy river, checking shoreline brush patches for interesting scents and, finally, sitting on the bank and patiently watching for some reason to get excited.

When we walked back to the truck for a snack and a chance to warm my feet Flicka had a chance to romp with another angler’s English setter, and then another setter that came running across the parking lot to join the two dogs. Two setters and a pointing Lab, I mused, what hunting stories they might be able to tell each other if they had the gift of speech.

Perhaps it’s for the best that we humans can’t always interpret a dog’s stories. If Flicka started telling about how I stumble around in the fields, looking in the wrong directions when birds get up, and missing easy shots, there would be no end to the hush money she’d be able to extort.

Fortunately, dogs are of a higher character than most humans and until they learn to write or talk, our secrets are safe.

This interim period between hunting and flyfishing has seemed like a long drag, especially with unrelenting news from Congress and the legislature (Montana and several other states as well) that makes a person wonder if there is hope for the future.

That’s why it often seems essential to get outside and stand in a river and concentrate on a task that on its merits seems a waste of time.

John Voelker, the late Michigan jurist and writer, probably better known by his penname of Robert Traver, probably said it best. “I fish…not because I regard fishing as being so terribly important but because I suspect that so many of the other concerns of men are equally unimportant—and not nearly so much fun.”

Notes on Spring - and St. Patrick's Day

It’s spring! Perhaps not according to the calendar, but last week I went in search of spring and found the first shoots of tulips emerging from the ground after a long winter of dormancy. The emergence was about a week and a half behind schedule but I’ll take it.

This year, spring, or more precisely, the vernal equinox, will officially happen at 5:21 p.m., MDT, on Sunday, March 20. As it happens, there is a full moon on the evening of Saturday, March 19. That explains why Easter, this year, will fall on April 24, which is just about as late as it can get.

Easter, according to centuries-long tradition, is observed the first Sunday after the first full moon after the vernal equinox.

The last time Easter fell on April 24 was in 1859 and it won’t happen again until 2095. The latest possible date is April 25, which last occurred in 1943, and will happen again in 2038. This year, Orthodox churches will observe Easter on the same date as the western churches

Other signs of spring? Unless you slept through it, we went on daylight time this past Sunday, and we’ll remain on daylight time until Sunday, November 6. If you’ve been annoyed these last few days by people wondering why you’re always an hour late for everything you may want to check your alarm clock.

For added confusion, we should note that March 1 is considered the first day of meteorological spring. Meteorological spring goes back to 1780 when an early organization for meteorology (study of weather) designated March 1 as the first day of spring, grouping each season into three calendar months. That actually goes back to the ancient Roman calendar in which the year began on March 1, which was also considered the first day of spring.

Actually, meteorological seasons make more sense than marking the seasons based on equinoxes and solstices. This way, summer begins on June 1, autumn on September 1, and winter on December 1.  In Europe, for example, the summer solstice isn’t the beginning of summer; that shortest night of the year is Mid-Summer’s Night.

Of course, tomorrow is St. Patrick’s Day, that annual celebration of Irish heritage and nonsense. Most of Montana’s colleges and universities are on spring break this week and that’s known to be a factor in raising the nonsense level in Butte’s celebration. Personally I’ve often tried to make a point to either go skiing or fishing on St. Patrick’s Day, depending on the weather. It’s safer that way.

Nevertheless, we’ll have corned beef and cabbage for dinner and maybe we’ll tell an Irish joke or two. Here’s one you might enjoy.

An Irishman, Kevin, and an American, Clint, are sitting in the bar at Cork Airport supping Guinness.

“I've come to meet my brother,” says Kevin. “He's due to fly in from Chicago in an hour's time. It's his first trip home in 40 years.”

“Will you be able to recognize him?” asks Clint.

“I'm sure I won't,” responds Kevin, “after all, he's been away for a long time.”

“I wonder if he'll recognize you?” questions Clint.

“Of course he will,” replies Kevin. “Sure, an' I haven't been away at all.”

A lot of Irish stories have a touch of gallows humor, likely a way Irish people tried to cope with the many hardships of life in Ireland, such as the poverty and starvation during the potato famine years. Between famine and the English, death was often close. So, I’ll close with this one.

Dermot McCann opened the morning newspaper and was dumbfounded to read in the obituary column that he had died.  He quickly phoned his best friend Reilly. “Did ye see the paper?' asked Dermot. “They say I died.”

”Yes, I saw it,” replied Reilly. “And where did you say you’re calling from?”

Time to get your new fishing license!

If you want to go fishing in March, you'd better get a license!

The first day of March came and, unusually, I didn’t have any big urge to go fishing. The garlic and tulips along the south side of our house hadn’t sent up any green shoots. If those courageous plants thought it was too cold, it was too early to go flyfishing.

Rest assured, the fishing season won’t wait much longer.

Whether the fishing urge is to find open water for early flyfishing or ice fishing before the ice deteriorates, there is an important first step, and that’s to go to an office of Montana Fish, Wildlife and Parks or to a local license vendor, or on-line, to get properly licensed before heading out to hit the water.

Our 2010 Conservation License and all those various hunting and fishing endorsements expired at the end of February and if we go fishing on or after March 1 we need a 2011 license to be legal.

As a brief review, an $8 Conservation License is required for all resident anglers age 12 and older. For youth age 12 – 14, or age 62+ seniors, that’s all that’s needed. For everybody else, age 15 – 61, an $18 fishing license is required, though there is a two-day resident license for just $5. The Resident Sportsman and Youth Sportsman licenses include fishing.

At the same time you purchase your 2011 Conservation and fishing license you can also purchase hunting licenses, including elk, deer and upland birds, for the coming year as well. As a special reminder, with winter still dominating the landscape it may not seem possible, but the spring wild turkey season begins just a month from now, on Saturday, April 9. If you’re hoping to hunt turkeys in western Montana you have to put your name in a drawing for a special permit, and the deadline for that is tomorrow, March 10.

I hate to mention that special drawing deadline. I’d just as soon keep it a secret so that my odds of drawing a permit improve.

The Montana Senate Agriculture, Livestock and Irrigation Committee would have heard testimony yesterday, March 8, on HB 309, the bill that threatens public access to almost all of Montana’s rivers and streams. Presumably there should still be time to phone and leave a message with legislators that you oppose this terrible piece of legislation. The phone number is 406-444-4800, and you can leave a message for one or more state senators.

This time of year I always look forward to a long season of fishing on our rivers and streams. The Big Hole River often seems like a home away from home and there are a lot of mosquito families depending on us to keep them fed and happy in coming months. Let’s hope Montana citizens make their voices heard, and heard loudly, to preserve public access to those waters.

In this column we’ve followed the dwindling number of veterans of World War I.

There is a new grave in Arlington National Cemetery for America’s last doughboy, Frank Buckles, who died February 27 at his home in West Virginia at the age of 110.

 Mr. Buckles was only 16 years old when he enlisted in the U.S Army in 1917. In an archived NPR interview, Mr. Buckles insisted he didn’t lie when he enlisted, but did admit to “misrepresenting” his age. After enlisting, Mr. Buckles volunteered to be an ambulance driver, which was promised to be the fastest way to get to France.

After the war, Buckles worked for steamship companies and happened to be in Manila when Japanese forces occupied the Philippines at the beginning of WWII. He was imprisoned until liberation in February 1945. After retirement he continued to run cattle on his West Virginia farm and was still driving a tractor until age 106.

According to the New York Times there are just two remaining veterans of the Great War, Claude Choules, a British Royal Navy veteran living in Australia and Florence Green, of Britain’s Women’s Royal Air Force, living in England.

Rest in peace, Corporal Buckles and greet Marine Private Mike Mansfield for us.

Help Stop HB 309 and Preserve Public Access to Montana Rivers

This is what's at stake with HB 309.

“We’ve gone 27 years with the Montana Stream Access Law without a problem. All of a sudden we’ve got a problem.” Scott Reynolds, Ramsey, a speaker opening a meeting last week hosted by the George Grant Chapter of Trout Unlimited. TU sponsored the meeting to inform the public of potential problems with House Bill 309.

Rep. Jeffrey Welborn (R-Dillon) sponsored HB 309. Ostensibly, the bill would reverse a 2008 Montana Supreme Court ruling that Mitchell Slough, a 16-mile side channel of the Bitterroot River, is open to the public under the Stream Access Law.

The reality, according to Reynolds, is that, based on discussions with water law lawyers and hydrologists, the proposed law would have the effect of redefining most of Montana’s rivers and streams as ditches and thus not open to public access. If this sounds surreal, Reynolds adds, “We didn’t dream this up. It’s a real problem.”

This opinion is supported by testimony at the House Agricultural Committee on January 27 by Bob Lane, Chief Legal Counsel of Montana Fish, Wildlife & Parks. Lane said, “HB 309 almost completely repeals the public’s right to recreate on rivers and streams: by making any stream or river a private stream or river where the return flows from irrigation are the majority of the flow; and by privatizing side-channels of braided rivers and streams.” Lanes goes on to say “almost all rivers and streams in Montana, except those in wilderness areas and the headwaters of streams on Forest Service land, could no longer by used by the public. HB 309 not only doesn’t work, it just doesn’t make any sense.”

Speakers displayed aerial maps of portions of the Big Hole and Jefferson Rivers citing various diversions, head gates and ditches, all representing potential access problems for anglers and floaters. The dam on the Beaverhead River forming Clark Canyon Reservoir was built for irrigation and flood control. Under HB 309, the entire Beaverhead River could be off limits.

An unidentified woman asked, “My brother-in-law owns property on the Boulder River. We camp and fish there. It’s downstream from a diversion structure on other property. Does that mean we wouldn’t be able to use the stream? We couldn’t let our kids play in the water?”

Speakers said her fears were justified.

Is there a need for legislation to prevent anglers from trespassing on irrigation ditches? FWP Counsel Lanes asserts, “FWP recognizes the rights of landowners to not have their property rights burdened by the public attempting to recreate in irrigation ditches. The stream access statute does precisely this and there is no need to clarify its precise language.”

Al Luebeck, a Butte resident and former legislator sees the influence of money. “A lot of ranches are being bought by out of state people and they’re the ones behind this bill.” Noting that the bill passed the House in party line voting, Luebeck suggests, “Ask your Republican friends what is going on. This is a betrayal of Montana citizens.”

Other speakers, including Steve Luebeck and Bob Olson, president of the local TU chapter, both Butte residents, advocate citizen action. Specific steps include contacting local state senators Steve Gallus and Jim Keane, members of the Senate Agriculture, Livestock and Irrigation committee, as well as all state senators.

Second, they urge a big turnout of citizens before the Senate committee when they hold hearings in room 303 at the state capitol at 3 p.m. on March 8 (subject to change).

For people with a Facebook account, Montana Coalition for Stream Access has created a Facebook page, and changes and new developments will be posted on the page. Chris Bradley of The Stonefly fly shop suggested that people without computer access could contact their store to get the latest news on the bill as well as information on car pools to go to Helena.

Tony Schoonen of Ramsay, a grizzled veteran of the legislative battles to enact the Stream Access Law years ago commented on the law having survived numerous legal challenges, adding, “They couldn’t kill the law in the courts. Now they want to turn all our rivers into ditches. Everybody better get on that Twitter—whatever the heck that is.”