8 Ways To Rekindle Your Flame For The Outdoors

Photo: Chris Carson

This morning while I was working on tuning my bow, I had a few random thoughts that are worth exploring. I'm sure I have touched on this subject before, but as I continue to age and consider these things, I find different perspectives.  

To me, hunting and fishing is a passion. I love the outdoors and have enjoyed horseback riding, canoeing, hiking, swimming, camping, even flying, and just about anything else you can imagine doing in the outdoors.  Since the days when I was a kid and we would roam the neighborhoods, alleys, and fields that were close by, I have always enjoyed the adventure. Hunting and fishing though, seem to be the activities I enjoy most.  

Photo: Cole Carson

Early on, it was anywhere I went with my brother.  Fishing or hunting, it didn't matter!  I believe this shaped my desire to hunt and fish.  In high school, my buddy James and I did alot of fishing... So much so, that I almost didn't graduate.  Once I did graduate, it was off to school in Breham, TX where we spent more time hunting and fishing with our new found freedom away at college. 

Since then I began hunting with another buddy from high school. We paid for leases, put in lots of work, traveled to and from together.  One of those leases was in East Texas.  A 5 hour drive from home and we had some adventures along the way. Now I'm on the lease with both of those guys and it's a stroke of luck to be able to hunt together. Usually the times that we do ride together are spent discussing business or racing there and back because we all have other commitments. A little over a year ago, I had the pleasure of hog hunting with a buddy that just moved down from Iowa and killed his first hog.  The experience was a refreshing change from the normal grind that has become my hunting experience. 

Photo: James Plant

Getting to the point here, I've caught many fish over the years, killed my share of varmints, deer,
quail, hogs, dove, javalina, etc. and it's always the pursuit that is memorable.  I remember more details of hunts where I was not successful than I do of hunts where I tagged an animal.  This is not to say that the enjoyment of success is not memorable either.  But, sometimes I think the success of the hunt clouds the work it took to pull it off. 

The last several years I have found myself hunting and fishing by myself or quick little afternoon hunts with a few friends at the lease.  This seems more methodical in nature, more like I'm just putting meat on the table and nothing more.  The fact that I don't have anyone there with me to share success and failure with seems to take the fun out of these endeavors.  Over the years, I have heard oldtimers tell me that they don't hunt anymore.  On the occasions I have asked why, invariably they tell me "I'm just not that mad at them anymore." and laugh it off.  

Photo: Chuck Crowsey

To me, it has never been about the animal, as much as adventure.  All the little things that go wrong along the way that must be overcome to be successful are what makes the trip an adventure. I think what these oldtimers are really saying is that they find no adventure in it anymore.  

Drilling down further, the question becomes how do we turn monotony into adventure?  Off the top of my head, here are a few suggestions:

• Go with people you don't usually go with.
• Pursue a new species.
• Try a different means of hunting (i.e bowhunting) or fishing (fly fishing).
• Try a different method like spot and stalk or sight fishing.
• Switch up your hunting areas or find a new honey hole.
• Lease a new property to hunt or start fishing rivers instead of lakes, or deep pot holes instead of flats or mangroves.
• Hunt Public Lands, Plan a trip to fish new lakes you have never fished.
• Hunt or fish out of state.  Make a vacation of it.

Photo Chuck Crowsey

I don't think I've ever been "mad" at an animal or fish.  I know that response is a humorous way to shrug off the real answer.  Maybe the answer is different for different people, but I have been struggling with balancing work, family, and hobbies.  It takes a toll on my outdoor activities and I have recently been thinking "Maybe I'm just not mad at them anymore!" LOL!

The good news, is I have 3 kiddos that have never shot any animal with any means. So, here is hoping that one or all of them will be my new outdoor adventure buddy! Maybe each in different ways!

By the way, in case you were wondering, the old Bear Crux is doing great!  On the other hand I may need glasses.

 

Defining Success Outdoors MONSTER TROUT? MONSTER REDFISH?

This morning was a slow start to my Monday.  Cole and I just returned home from our semi-annual Port Mansfield fishing trip.  We did well, but the drive home started off a little dicey.  After a couple hours worth of delays for some truck repairs, we made it home by 12:30 am.  Needless to say, I'm tired!

When I did finally roll out of bed this morning, I fed the youngest kid some Fruit Loops and took him to summer camp and came back home to cook breakfast.  The wife/mom headed off to work because the bills just won't go away and the (almost) teenager (11 days to go) was less than thrilled at the prospect that her brother was home. I sent Cole to knock on her door and let her know that I was cooking and he was forced to make a hasty retreat.  So, it was just me and Cole sitting down to breakfast, still half asleep and trying to wake up.  Cole asked "Dad, what was your favorite part of the trip?" to which I responded "I don't know, I'd have to think about that."

As I sat there pondering what the best moment of the trip may have been, I realized that he was probably wanting me to ask him the same question, so I asked.  He said "Probably when I caught that MONSTER TROUT!" I kind of chuckled a bit and asked "Why?"  He said "I don't know probably because of the way Uncle Chuck said I was ASLEEP!  Either that or the MONSTER REDFISH!"

We laughed about it and I began thinking about my favorite moment again.  Even as I sit here thinking about it, I can't come up with a single moment that blew all the others away.  It was a great trip.  We had all sorts of fun, from checking out the deer when we first got there to sight casting reds, wading for trout, sunrises on the water, and all the moments in between where we were fishing and catching!

I can identify a few highlights and catching a 26" red ranks right up there.  Last year, it was pretty easy,  My personal best 31" red followed immediately by my new and current personal best 41" red.  I was excited this year at the possibility of adding a couple new species to my list, but that was not in the cards for me.  I was also excited about the possibility of catching while sight casting.  While I can't say this is a new technique for me, I can say that I only try it once a year or so and relatively speaking, I haven't done a whole lot of saltwater fishing.  Wade fishing is another means that until this weekend has never produced for me.

I find it interesting that success or favorites can mean so many different things to different people.  I feel like even though I wasn't successful at sight casting, I learned a few things, which is success in the making.  In my new kayak endeavor, I hope to be able to perfect these techniques. Here are a few things I learned this weekend.

• When sight casting previously, I threw at mullet jumping and things that broke the surface in the hope that whatever was chasing them would chase my lure too.  I knew in my heart that this was not the right course of action, but never really knew what else to do.
• The key is patience.  Look for dark spots.  I think I have always thought these were just rocks or grass clumps. Sometimes they appear and re-appear. 
• Don't get too distracted by movement. Look for those dark spots, then zero in on weather or not it moves or seems to float forward and back or side to side.  If the water is clear enough, you can make them out plain as day.
• Accurate casting is a must.  I am much more accurate with a baitcaster, but we were using spinning gear.  I can however usually get a better presentation out of spinning gear, but that didn't seem to make a difference.  I drug an Unfair Shrimp over the back of a +/-24" Redfish.  I was surprised I didn't foul hook it.  As soon as it flopped over, the big red swirled and headed for deeper water. 
• Even when you have a better understanding of how this works and what to look for, it's not an easy process.  The fish has to want to eat, and it has to want to eat what you throw at it.  

The first redfish I caught was a tailing red.  Chuck pointed it out and said throw your bait up in front of it.  I did and caught it.  To this day, I don't know if I hooked him or he hooked me.  It was about 10 years before I saw another tailing redfish, though there were many reds caught in between.  My brother and I found a bunch of tailing reds one morning a few years ago.  I threw everything in my tackle box at them, but not one bite.  I have come to the belief that if they have found a good food source, they aren't going to be distracted by anything else.

Most kids measure success by results and only results.  Learning through failure is a tough pill to swallow, but for a kid it seems to be even tougher.  Cole didn't have any fun while we were sight casting.  He spent most of his time trolling off the back of the boat or just sitting there watching and asking can we go somewhere else? On the other hand, I can't wait to do it again.  I can taste it, like blood in the water!  I know I'm close.

So, I guess I will continue to mull it over.  There will be more details to come on this trip later in the week in 46 Outdoors Adventure Files, like why was Cole asleep when he caught his MONSTER TROUT and for that matter, was it a MONSTER TROUT or just a trout.

For now, I guess the 26" red, breaking the ice on wading, and some lessons learned while sight casting (that brings about the feeling that I am closer to sight CATCHING) are the best parts of the trip.  Then again, maybe as a parent, the best moments for me are those spent with him living his best moments... Who knows if I will settle on a favorite? I'm okay with it if I don't!

Any tips for sight casting? Comment below or on Facebook and let us know!

Adventure Files: Learning to Fish From A Kayak

Recently, I celebrated a birthday... I turned a whopping 46 years old.  The kayak fishing adventure has just begun for me.  I have no earthly idea why it has taken me so long to see a kayak as an acceptable vessel for fishing.  I fished from canoes as a kid.  Banging around all over the place, we tied it off to trees, trolled, drifted along fishing Rat L Traps and creating great memories.  One would think that fishing from a kayak would be the next logical step. Fortunately, I came to my senses, so, I embarked on another kayak journey with Cole in celebration of my 46 years on this earth.

I was looking forward to doing some fishing, but I knew that still only having one kayak, that was not going to be a real possibility.  I really wanted Cole to experience the kayak as well. I took him along knowing that he would monopolize the time in the kayak, and leaving him to fish by himself on shore while I tooled around the cove fishing was a monumentally bad idea for a multitude of reasons, though it did cross my mind. Fortunately for both of us, I'm slightly more intelligent than that!

The planning for this little adventure being what it was found me at Wal Mart at 11 PM on my birthday eve purchasing a new paddle because of our paddle fail chronicled in Adventure Files: Kayak Fail (not so much) Part 2.  I found a small Propel paddle for just the right price at $23.87.  This will make a great stow away paddle when my new kayak and paddle arrive at Twisted Oak.

A boy and a borrowed kayak
Photo Chris Carson

The next morning, Cole and I headed back to Canyon Lake again.  The water was back to a more normal level.  Boat ramps were open again and most of the picnic tables were out of the water.  The water had receded about 60 yards or so since the last time we were there.  The wind was blowing out of the South at about 15-20 mph. The water was a little choppy in the cove we were in, but we handled it well.  I was a bit nervous about getting broadside to the wind, but the Aquaterra proved to be pretty stable given how narrow it is.

I must admit, I am beginning to like the Aquaterra more and more.  I still can't wait for my Malibu Stealth 14 to come in, alas, I must have patience.  In the meantime, I will enjoy this kayak and milk it for whatever lessons I can gain and use it to teach Cole water safety and how to position the boat for a multitude of scenarios.

The first thing I realized today is the importance of an anchoring system.  On our previous trip, the wind was calm and we could have easily positioned the yak.  Today, I showed him how to read the current to set up a drift since we had no anchor.  Without a drift anchor this also proved to be difficult as we were moving way to fast to be effective (especially in the summer when fishing deep and slow is usually the key).

The Anchor Rock   Photo: Chris Carson

After a bit of frustration, I fashioned an anchor from some parachute cord and rock.  I was inspired by a post on Facebook by Eugene Mora.  It wasn't pretty, but it was effective.  Notice above that I said an "anchoring system".  "System" is a key word here as without an anchor trolley to move the anchor to the back or front of the boat depending on how I wanted to position the boat, I spent most of my time broadside to the wind.

I also quickly realized that dumping a 15 lb. rock overboard with no anchor line management system was a good way for Cole to lose a finger.  Loose rope laying around with a heavy object tied to it is not a safe practice.  

 

Kayak Crate   Photo: Chris Carson

In other news, the kayak crate that I made awhile back worked well.  Although the Aquaterra is lacking in places to stow such an item, we strapped it down with bungees and made the best of it. Cole accidentally flipped it once trying to get out of it in deeper than he thought water. But, the crate stayed in place, one of the rods actually never left the rod holder.  All other contents floated long enough to recover easily, none the worse for wear.

Anchor line management is a different animal altogether though... I'm open for ideas, so comment below or on Facebook and give me your thoughts.

This trip was an exercise in getting a feel for fishing from a kayak.  Figuring out what works and what doesn't was the goal. There are many nuances such as casting angles and gear management that must be re-learned and mastered from a kayak.  For instance learning to flip a jig while sitting at water level will be interesting I'm sure! It's all part of the journey and I look forward to it! 

There were no fish injured or otherwise harmed in this excursion.

Adventure Files: Kayak Fail (not so much) Part 2

The adventures have been few and far between for awhile now as I have had to make time in my schedule for coaching my boys' baseball teams.  Although we are in the thick of Little League All-Stars, we finally had a day off on Tuesday, so we got in a little adventure!

Quick Disclaimer: although "failure" is involved in this installment of Adventure Files, the title is more of a continuation of the original story (another chapter if you will), than a failure.

Mini X by Malibu Kayaks

We (at Twisted Oak Hunting & Outfitter Supply) have finally been able to get kayaks into the store. The nice folks at Malibu Kayaks have approved us as a dealer and we are currently awaiting shipment of our first order.

My son, Cole, just turned 11 and we ordered him a Malibu Kayaks Mini-X.  It's a 9' kayak complete with adjustable foot pegs, 4 flush mount rod holders, front storage hatch, another storage hatch between his feet, and standing platform, a rear storage area with a bungee, and the all important cup holder. We also got him a Jr. Explorer seat and paddle to complete the initial package.

Cole's care package from Malibu Kayaks

The only problem with all of this is that we weren't able to close the deal on this purchase before his birthday.  So, I called my contact there at Malibu and asked if they could send me a sticker or something to let him know he was getting a kayak for his birthday. They were happy to make that happen and went above and beyond by sending him an entire care package complete with stickers, a cap, some magnets, a certificate naming him the owner
of a Mini-X in Desert Camo, and

best of all (according to Cole)... A Backwater Assault Paddle.  I must confess, I want one too!


Cole had been driving me crazy (and still is) with questions like "Dad, where is the first place you want to go when you get your kayak?" Of course, I ordered myself one. It is a Stealth 14 from Malibu Kayaks along with an X-Tank, and a Spider Angler seat from Crack of Dawn Paddlesports. So I decided to take him to Canyon Lake and learn some things using the kayak from my original Kayak Fail.

This kayak and I had a brief, but sorted history.  However, I wasn't going to let that deter me from letting Cole have some fun learning to kayak.  We loaded up and headed to Canyon Lake for an afternoon of fun.  We arrived at the lake and chose a spot that was easy to access.  We unloaded and headed down to the water.

The lake was up from the recent flooding, picnic tables were in the water and boat ramps were closed, but we drug the old Aquaterra about 100 yds. down a hill and across the grass to the water and I let Cole have the first run... He paddled around and had a blast.  After a few minutes, he wanted me to try.

My original experience with this kayak was less than successful, so I was a bit apprehensive to attempt to mount this thing for the fear of looking like an idiot in front of my son and a few other on-lookers. Getting in was a bit of a chore, as it was the first time, but without the fear of a cold water kayak baptism, I was able to get in and began paddling around.  I noticed a "No Wake Zone " buoy about 200 yards out and made it my goal to reach the buoy.

This is where things begin to get sketchy.  As I paddled out, (at about the half way point) I noticed a difference in my right and left paddle stroke.  I looked down and the top rivet that secured the blade of the paddle to the handle had come loose. Being attached only at the bottom presented a bit of a challenge.  However, I was determined to reach the buoy.  I used my right "traffic" finger (aka: the bird) to secure the blade to the handle.  I'm still pretty sure I looked like an idiot with my right hand all the way down to one side of the paddle and 3 feet of handle sticking of the left side, but it worked.  I got the the buoy, turned around and came back.  Cole was disappointed that I did not touch the buoy, but I considered the affair a "WIN".

When I returned, I got out and Cole embarked on another voyage.  He began tooling around and the paddle broke.  With only a one sided, long, unwieldy paddle at our disposal, I decided to have Cole practice re-entry and flipping the kayak in order to make Mom a little more comfortable in the notion of getting him a kayak for his birthday. He did a great job.

The video to the right shows him in water too deep to stand.  This time was the only time he didn't get in on the first attempt, which worked out because he was able to demonstrate both ways he learned to flip the kayak.  We probably did it at least 10 times.

After about 30 minutes or so of that, I remembered that there was a two piece paddle stowed in the hull.  Cole got it out and paddled around a bit more, the I decided to take another trip to the buoy.  I didn't get too far before that paddle broke too!  Upon further inspection, it had a flat spot (like it had been run over by a car) near the blade of the paddle.

So, this was actually more of a paddle fail than a kayak fail, but all in all, it was a great time. Cole got to test out his Backwater Assault Paddle, which by the way is AWESOME as Cole says, and we got to spend some time on the water.  No fishing, nothing extravagant... Just good, quality, fun in the sun!
Can't wait for my Malibu Kayak!!!

Adventure Files: Turkey Hunting With Real Outfitters

Turkey hunting is one of my favorite ways to fill a weekend in the spring.  The interactive nature of the hunt is seductive. Something about calling in a turkey from far away and the run and gun intensity of some hunts just brings about the "spirit of the wild" that Ted Nugent likes to wax poetic about.

Photo: Real Outfitters

The lease I have hunted for the last several years does not have turkey in any abundance, and only sporadically at best.  As such, I am relegated to finding other opportunities to hunt the mighty Thunder Chicken. 

Interestingly, I love to hunt them, but I'm not a big fan of eating turkey (even on Thanksgiving).  So, this year, I got in touch with Mike Buie of Real Outfitters and he was gracious enough to let me come up and do some guiding with Real Outfitters. This was a great solution as I could hut them, and myhunters could shoot and eat them.  A quick trip to Menard County and I was in camp. I arrived late, and there was a buffet of all sorts of great food for dinner.  By the wy, Kevin, the camp chef, changed my tune on eating turkey... The best I have ever had! (sorry Mom... Laura... Cheryl)

The next day started at about 5 am. We headed to the main camp and began taking hunters out.  These hunters were all pretty self sufficient, so basically I just dropped them off where they roosted turkeys the previous night, then I headed back to camp to get some chores done.  

A few hours later, the hunters made their way back to camp.  Breakfast, which was a delicious bacon, potato and egg with cheese skillet, was served.  This was the best breakfast in recent memory. 

There were two hunters in my group, an experienced turkey hunter, and a younger guy looking to bag his first bird. They were able to call in a few birds that morning.  One gobbler started coming in and noticed the Jake decoy and took off, leaving them with the age old turkey hunting dilema... to decoy or not to decoy. As such, they decided to split up and I would guide the younger guy when we went back out.

Photo: Real Outfitters

 My hunters were ready to go as soon as they ate breakfast.  A couple more hunting parties arrived for the weekend, so we headed to a different ranch close to downtown Menard.  Having never been to this ranch before, we met Mike in Menard and followed him to the ranch we would be hunting.  This ranch had some great diversity in terrain due to it's proximity to the San Saba River.  Mike speculated that the turkey would be up on the hills during the day and would make their way to the pecan bottom land to roost in the evening.  I agreed with his assessment and began driving the property stopping every so often to listen and call. 

It was still pretty early in the day.  I figured that hens might still be laying eggs and tending their nests and that the gobblers would be wandering on their own looking for hens, so I decided to set up on a high pasture near a deer feeder and do some calling.  We parked the truck and began getting ready for the hunt.  My hunter put on his vest and I grabbed my calls.  We discussed taking a decoy and I thought it would be better not to use the decoy given the shy nature of the gobbler they encountered that morning. 

We walked in about 100 yards to the fence line of the pasture.  Once there, we set up.  Having no real MRI (most recent intel), I just took a stab at where to set up.  My hunter was set up looking in to the pasture from the north.  I sat facing the opposite direction in case we called one in from behind.  I began calling and would turn and glass the field every so often.  I switched back and forth from my glass pot call to a box call.  

Photo: Real Outfitters

About 20-30 minutes went by when I glassed the furthest (eastern) edge of the field.  About half way across, I saw at least three birds crossing the field east of us headed north. We were not in position to intercept them.  I instructed my hunter to move about 10 yards and get set up in that direction as he hadn't seen them yet. I moved to get a better vantage point and camouflage myself better.  I continued calling from both the box call and pot call. No luck.  We had a strong southeast that I think was muffling my calls.  I saw a big Tom take flight long enough to clear the fence on the east side of the pasture.  I continued to call for about 10 minutes, but we saw no further signs of turkey.

At this point, I was regretting not bringing the decoys.  Maybe those turkeys would have seen and come into a decoy spread.  Maybe not.  You just never know!

I knew there was a draw east of the pasture.  I figured it was closer than it actually was, but I was thinking they went down into that draw headed for water.  The draw emptied into a pond that was north of us. We backed out of where we were and tried to get ahead of them at the pond.  We sat at the pond and called for about an hour with no luck.   When I got home and looked at Google Earth, I figured out that the draw was much further away from that point.  We should have tried to get closer to their last position and called.  This is why it's always important to use aerial maps to pre-scout a property.

Photo: Real Outfitters

As the evening wore on, We moved down to a pasture near the pecan trees (WITH the decoys this time).  There were cattle in the field near a deer feeder, so we set up on the opposite side.  When the cows left, we moved across the pasture and closer to what seemed like great roosting trees.  No luck at all.  I was baffled.  I was pretty certain that the pecans would be great for roosting.  I had 2 wide open pastures to glass with pecan trees sprinkled between them.  I didn't see or hear a turkey.

I was looking forward to getting after them again the next morning.  As I was checking my alarms for the next morning, I found a message that came in while we were in the field (the only place I had a signal the whole time I was there).  I had to get back home for a family emergency.

I had sort of an inside out view of the operations at Real Outfitters.  From what I saw, Mike Buie has a great operation.  The food is great the wildlife is abundant, the guides were courteous and accommodating.  This ranch offers a variety of wildlife year round.  Do not hesitate to book your hunt with Real Outfitters! They do youth hunts too!

46 Outdoors Adventure Files: Whitetail FAIL and What I Learned

Take a kid HUNTING!
Photo: Chris Carson

Usually, my final hunt of deer season is an annual hunt with my brother, his in-laws, and a few of his friends.  We share stories and pictures, eat some incredible meals, catch up with each other, and enjoy fellowship with family and friends.  Almost secondarily, we hunt, we kill, and we process much of the meat that will become meals for our families and friends.

I say secondarily, but in reality, this is a high fenced ranch under MLD permits, and we are there to do a job.  We are usually tasked with shooting does to keep the herd in balance and occasionally, we get a "hit list" of certain deer that need to be removed because of poor genetics or some other reason. Aside from the food, friends, family, and fellowship, we get to see some magnificent deer.

The last few years, for differing reasons, I have only been able to make it down for a day or even just an evening hunt.  This past season was no exception to that as I arrived about 2:30 on Friday afternoon and had to get back for something (probably baseball) on Saturday morning.

I met the guys at the skinning rack where they were finishing boning out a few deer shot the night before.  Once that was done, we headed back to the bunkhouse and began preparing for the evening hunt and getting an idea on where everyone was going to hunt.

My brother had asked his father-in-law (the land owner) about a buck he had seen that morning.  He was an 8 point that had been fighting and had broken off all his points on one side. The decision was made to take this deer out if it was seen.  I was also told to shoot a 6 point that had long hair and it's tongue was hanging out if I had a shot.

I was set up in a blind with an oat patch to the southwest, and a sendero to the northwest.  The wind was blowing from the south east.  It was early to mid January in South Texas a couple weeks or so post-rut.  A young buck came out shortly after I was dropped off to feed on the corn dropped in the road as my ride left to drop someone else.

About an hour later, with the young buck still eating, a few yearlings and young bucks came out down the sendero near the feeder.  I watched them for a good 20 minutes or so when a few more bucks started showing up, one of which was a buck that had a main beam with all three broken tines on the right and 4 points on the left.  I texted my brother to let him know what I was seeing and whether this was the deer he was talking about.  We decided that this deer was much younger than the one he had seen and passed.

I settled into watching the deer I couldn't shoot, when a big deer came to the feeder.  This was one of the group of deer known as "The Bubbas".  I had a great view of this deer through my binoculars.  I wanted to get a good picture of it, but all I had was my iPhone.  At 100 yards, a zoomed in photo was grainy and the deer looked small.  Without the zoom, this big bruiser looked like an ant with a bush on it's head.  I really do need to invest in a good camera!

As the evening wore on, the bucks all slowly left the sendero and a whole herd of does and yearlings
started showing up in the oats.  I quickly began to try to track which ones had fawns and which ones didn't.  As more and more deer showed up, it became increasingly more difficult to tell does from button bucks.  I noticed a deer on it's own on the south side of the pasture.  I looked her over and decided this was an old doe with no fawns making her a great candidate.  The way the blind was oriented, I put my rifle through the window on my left and set up for that shot.  I put the cross hairs on the old doe and waited for her to turn broadside.  As I was waiting, I was continually looking out the window that was in front of me to check on the rest of the herd to make sure I wasn't getting busted by them.

What seemed like an eternity later, I glanced out that window and saw something weird.  I did a double take.  My rifle still hanging out the window to my left, I brought my binoculars up and looked over the stock to see if I could identify this deer.  The best way I can describe it is that it looked like a miniature elk.  It was the strangest thing.  It had long hair on it's neck and shoulders; maybe a little reddish or brindle in color.

I moved my rifle from one window to the other.  Immediately, I began looking for a tongue that was hanging out.  The sun was beginning to set behind an overcast sky and while it looked up, I saw something dangling from it's mouth.  I couldn't be sure it was his tongue though and it gave me pause.  I kept looking.

I confirmed 6 points and was thinking this had to be the freak of nature they were describing.  I kept looking for the tongue to confirm the three characteristics I was given.  As my scope actually gathers more light than my bino's do, I was looking through the scope to confirm this deer's identity.  This deer must have had it's head down between rows for a good 5 minutes at a time.  Finally, he looked up and I saw that tongue just dangling out of the side of it's mouth.  This was a "hit list buck".  I was ready.  I settled into a comfortable position and waited for this deer to give me a good shot. When it did, I squeezed the trigger.

Take another kid HUNTING!
Photo: Chris Carson

The deer jumped forward, turned around and began running across the field.  I knew something didn't seem right.  I watched as this deer high tailed it across the pasture expecting it to crash or stop and keel over.  About 1/2 way across the field, I realized that wasn't going to happen.  I had already racked another shell, because I make it a habit to do so for just this situation, but I lost the angle on him and had to pull the rifle out of one window and put it back in the other.  I got back on him just in time to see him jump the fence and disappear into the brush.

I got down and went looking for blood or hair or any sign that my bullet made contact with the freak of nature, but sadly... I MISSED!

I couldn't believe it.  I don't miss very often.  In fact, I can't remember the last time I flat out missed an animal altogether.  I've mad some bad shots before and had to track them a ways, but I don't think I ever remember a flat out miss since I was a kid trying to shoot my first deer.

I have waited several months to write this, because I wanted to confirm my suspicions.  I recently took a trip to the range and confirmed my theorey.

That day, when I was getting ready, I realized as I was loading my rifle that I had two different rounds for that caliber.  I knew I had only bought one box of ammo.  It took me about a week or so to remember that a friend had found a box of Nossler bullets he knew I liked and bought them for me.  They were a different grain than what I had sighted in with and as such I put the box away in my gun case.  I guess I must have left a few in my backpack though and they mad their way into the pocket I keep where I keep my ammo.  One was longer and one was shorter.  I guess I picked the wrong one, Because the other shell I had in my hand that day hit the bullseye at 100 yards.

I was disappointed that I missed, but I always try to learn something from my mistakes.  My lesson here is to always check your packs, keep them organized and store your equipment properly.  It's a pain to pack and unpack every time you go, but a little extra time spent packing and unpacking won't be too painful.  I for one, assume that I have what I need in my backpack, because I never unpack it. Several years ago, I scouted the morning of opening day of rifle season because I went to the blind a left my magazine and shells at camp.  The fact of the matter is you don't know if it's there unless you pack it yourself... and even then it's sketchy at best (at least for me anyway)!  

 

Adventure Files: Falcon Lake, Port Isabel, & Some Advice on Hooking Yourself

Earlier this week, I watched and episode of Kayak Bassin on YouTube where the Host, Chad Hoover used a pair of pliers to bury a treble hook in his thigh in order to demonstrate a hook removal technique. Check out the clip on the right.

This reminded me of a couple trips I took with my brother, Chuck.  The last of which was in 1989.  This was my "Happy Graduation" fishing trip to Falcon Lake.  He had taken me there once before when I was still in middle school and he was in college. 

On the first trip, we fished from an old wooden ski boat that Chuck converted to a bass boat by decking over the 2 bench seats that ran across the boat and served as a rib of sorts (I'm sure there is a marine term for this) for a rear deck.  He added a cooler that was hemmed in by 2x4's fastened to the decking and strapped down.  This would be our fish box.   

The boat probably looked something
like this at some point during it's life.
Photo: Pinterest

The bow of this boat was was nothing but a wood top that probably held a windshield and horns or something at some point, but was long gone by now.  It was now outfitted with a foot controlled trolling motor and a pedestal seat to fish from. A pedestal seat in the rear and a Lowrance dial type depthfinder finished off the early eighties fishing package the vessel had forced upon it in an attempt to convert it to a bass boat.  That gives new meaning to "fish 'n ski".  As I saw my friend Tod Johnson comment on a Facebook post the other day, "Whole lot of redneckery went into that there vessel..."  I can't think of a better way to say it!  (Tod you may have just coined a phrase... I know I'm stealing it.)

When we got there the first day, we fished the late afternoon and slept in the truck at the boat ramp.  Can you imagine doing that at Falcon Lake today... No thanks! (Not even I want to fish that bad.) When we woke up at day break, we headed to the boat which we had beached near the ramp and tied off the night before.  The boat was surrounded by what had to be 50-100 Water Moccasins.  They were all swimming around and striking at the boat.  It was one of the weirdest things I have ever seen.  To this day, I have no idea what that was all about.  They weren't there when we beached and tied off, that's for sure.  Just weird! 

We fished the morning and went back to the boat ramp and checked into a little motel at lunch time.  Then we headed out to fish the evening again.  We did well that trip.  This is where I began learning about points and structure and I remember seeing schools of White Bass erupting on the surface.  We fished our points and structure and chased schooling White Bass for a couple days.  I remember an old woman bank fishing with a tandem rig pulling in two fish at a time from those schools.  

A stringer of fish caught in the old wood boat.
Photo: Chuck Crowsey

As I was learning to fish a Texas rigged worm offshore in some deeper water, Chuck got a backlash and he
was doing his best to keep the boat in position and work out that backlash.  Being about 12 years old at the time, I had no idea what I was doing fishing a hump or something below the surface I couldn't see.  I just began casting and reeling and my "squirrel moments" were serving to do nothing but further frustrate Chuck who was already a little edgy from dealing with his backlash.  He kept telling me to fish "over there" and pointed to a spot in what seemed like the middle of the ocean.  As I looked out at a featureless body of water where there was nothing different within casting distance, I made a few more casts back where he told me to again.  A few "squirrel moments" later I was casting off the back of the boat again when I got a bite. I reeled this one in and it turned out to be a 4 or 5 lber.  The best fish of the trip so far.  We were about to head in for lunch, but Chuck had a renewed interest in catching fish now, so we stayed out a few more hours.

At some point, we went to Harlingen, TX to visit my brother's dad.  After a day of working on the motor, we took that old boat out to the causeway at Port Isabel at night.  I remember taking several trips to the coast and fishing with my family over the years.  I don't think I ever caught anything other than Hard Heads.  This trip must have been when I caught my first speck.  We got into them pretty good that night.  I remember catching a small fish of some sort, I left it hooked and threw it back out.  Neither Chuck nor I can remember how big it was, but it was another big fish.  I remember somebody caught a big ray too.

On the second trip, we did much of the same as it was the same time of year.  We had a much better boat this time as we were in a new Champion bass boat. A beautiful red and silver glitter rocket with a big motor.  I remember my brother saying "Tomorrow we'll go check out the other side of the lake.  The Mexico side."  As I had just graduated from high school and one of my second semester senior year "blow off" classes was Wildlife Management, I asked "Do we have a reciprocal license agreement with Mexico?"  His answer was "No, but we have a boat that will do 70."

We were pounding points and such with a fire tiger crankbait when I snagged a tree.  I started popping my line trying to knock it off.  It finally came shooting back at me like a rocket.  I stood up as high as I could and did my best imitation of a ballerina on her toes while also trying to spread my legs to let the projectile get through when it caught me.  As this was during the eighties and I was wearing my football shorts (much shorter than today's shorts, it got me about 3" below the crotch on the inside of my right thigh. An experience I would never forget.

The treble hook penetrated in and out without getting a whole lot of meat.  I looked at chuck who was otherwise occupied and said "Uhhhh, Chuck, I have a little problem here.  Do you have any wire cutters?"  He looked over and said "No, just rip it out!" and went back to doing what he was doing.  I think he was tying a knot or getting the boat back in position, but I knew he couldn't just drop what he was doing.  I thought about this for a moment and thought there had to be a better solution. I looked around and couldn't find anything to cut the hook.  My best chance was a pair of clippers, but I knew that wasn't likely to work.  

I decided that IF I was going to rip this lure out of my leg, I had better do it soon while it was still pretty numb from hitting me.  I gathered up the line and in my left hand and yanked.  Chuck didn't see me do this and to this day probably thinks I just gave it a little tug.  I assure you, I pulled hard and all it did was stretch my skin by about 6 inches.  At this point, Chuck was saying "Here, let me do it!"  My brother and I have never fought, but I assure you, there was no way he was going to get hold of that line at this point.  

Shortly after that, I looked down at the clippers again thinking about trying to cut the hook again.  I tried and all it did was scratch the surface.  Then I had a thought... I used the clippers to bend the barb down flush with the hook and backed it out.  This was the end of this ordeal, but I was a little tender in that spot for awhile.  

The rest of the trip went well. We caught fish and had a great time, though we did have a tire problem on the way home.  To this day, I won't set foot in a boat without a tool that will cut a hook.  The video above is a great technique for a hook embedded past the barb, but not in and out. Don't leave home without your wire cutters.

Interestingly, these two trips along with a few hunting trips when I was the same age probably set in motion this incredible journey I have taken in the outdoors.  I am lucky to say that it continues today. There is not a day that goes by that I don't think about killing and grilling my dinner.

Adventure Files: Did Someone Say Chupacabra?

Bergheim Pet Hospital & Clinic
Built By Chris Carson Contracting Co.
Photo: JM Photos

In what now almost seems like a previous life, I was a builder and remodeler.  I still dabble in that business from time to time, but nevertheless, it is safe to say that my career path has taken a detour.  In June of 2007, after a wet Spring, as I was in the process of building a vet clinic.  We were getting it “dried in” and my bricklayers were on site.  I had been discussing hunting with my masonry contractor, John, and he mentioned that he had never hunted hogs before.  He was born and raised in Midland, TX and lived in Central and South Texas for quite awhile.  How this man reached the age of 50 years old in Texas without ever hunting a hog was baffling, and I quickly decided that I would change that.

When I wrote him his check for the final payment of an outstanding job, I asked him if he was free the next weekend for a hog hunt and he was eager to go! We planned to go the following Friday evening.  We met at what was then the Super S Food Store in Castroville to pick up some snacks and drinks.  He was now working on some modifications on a tamale plant in San Antonio and brought some of the most delicious tamales I think I have ever had.

Suzuki Samurai Outfitted For Hunting
Photo: Chris Carson

We headed for my lease near Hondo, TX.  At the time, I had a Suzuki Samurai modeled outfitted much like the one in the photo.  The plan was pretty simple.  Corn the roads in specific places where I
knew hogs crossed and wait for them.  We also used some hog attractant and a pig call. 

After a few hours of prep work and showing John the lease, we headed over to one of the sites we corned, which was around a protein feeder that we had seen pictures of hogs trying to reach the feeder tubes.  We set up on the road about 50-60 yards downwind from the feeder.  We were slightly down hill and the weeds were very tall from all the rain we had been having.  I was a little concerned that a shot on a hog might be kind of tough because of the weed growth (even with the elevated rear seat), but we decided to stick it out and see what happened.

We settled into eating tamales and trading hunting stories.  If we weren’t fast friends yet, we were on our way.  He told me about bird hunting oil leases in West Texas and I told him about hunting hogs in East Texas.  Our whispered conversation was almost continuous.  About the time I thought that we didn’t have anything else to talk about, we would find another topic.

As sundown approached, we had a few deer come in to the protein feeder.  We watched as they milled around.  Most ate the corn.  I used this opportunity to judge where we did and didn’t have clear shots through the weeds. Surprisingly there were more clear shots than I thought, but they were doing a number on the corn.  I was glad to see them at the protein feeder though, because I could see a few inches of antler growth on every deer in this little bachelor group.

Corned Road Somewhere In South Texas
Photo: Chris Carson

As I was watching intently and looking at the antler growth on what seemed to be the dominant buck, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye.  I looked up unable to refocus quickly enough with the difference in light from my binoculars to actual daylight, but something crossed the road about 15 yards in front of us.  John leaned in and whispered “what was that?”.  About the time I leaned back to say “I think it was a deer.” All the deer at the feeder disappeared.

I sat back up tall and began to replay what I had seen in my head while listening and scanning the brush line.  This animal bounded in from the right.  Then it smoothly eased across the road and back into the brush.  It dawned on me that the color I saw looked like a lighter toned deer, but it didn’t move like a deer and there seemed to be something moving behind it.  I leaned back in toward John and whispered “I don’t think that was a deer.” He whispered back “me either.” 

By this time, the hair on the back of my neck was standing at attention! John leaned over and asked “What do you think it was?”  I knew what I thought it was, but I didn’t want to say it for fear of being that guy. You know, the one that always has an outlandish tale that doesn’t seem plausible.  Honestly, I didn’t REALLY see it, so I just shrugged him off.  Being from South Texas, I had to make the obligatory Chupacabra joke to lighten the mood.

Then I began thinking about the fact that just a few months prior, I hunted this property on foot because in our hasty move from our lease in Grapeland, TX, I didn’t have a chance to get everything set up because I was so busy trying to clear my backlog of jobs so I could start the vet clinic on time.  I made makeshift ground blinds out of whatever twigs and fencing were laying around.  Fallen trees, small bushes and just plain old laying on my belly had been my preferred method of hunting and quite honestly it was one of the best hunting seasons I had ever experienced. 

As if all of this weren’t unnerving enough, I realized that we were in the one area on that side of the lease
where there were large mesquite trees with horizontal limbs that were about a foot or more in diameter.  Yep, now I was pretty sure what I had seen was a Mountain Lion.  I could tell John was a little sketchy about this situation too.  His eyes were darting around and it was pretty much completely dark by this time.  I leaned in a told John “I think that was a cat.”  To which he replied “I think that was a BIG CAT!” I breathed a sigh of relief for a moment knowing that he had seen what I thought I had seen.

John's Hog
Photo: Chris Carson

We sat there for a few minutes squirming around and I pointed out the fact that the trees over our heads and behind us were large enough to support a Mountain Lion. so we mutually agreed that it was in our best interests that we move on.

We checked a few other spots and I finally put John on some hogs, but he missed.  I took him several times that summer and if memory serves, he missed a couple times.  We finally got him his hog one night in August.  We had a heck of an experience together.  One I will never forget.  I kept the Mountain Lion sighting to myself for a few months not wanting to be that guy.  I hoped that somebody would get a pic of it on a trail cam, but nothing definitive.  Lots of blurry images, and maybes.  You can see just about anything you think you want to in those photos sometimes.  Then one day, talking to the ranch owner, he told me that a neighbor had seen a Mountain Lion.  I sighed in relief again knowing I wasn’t crazy!  It was finally time to let the cat out of the bag so to speak.  

About seven years later, I was deer hunting from a blind on the other side of the lease with my son Cole.  When it got to be prime time (that 20-30 minutes of gaslight when the sun goes down and the woods come alive), I thought I had seen something out the side window about 15-20 yards from the blind.  I had no idea what it was, but I was certain that a deer must have busted me took off in the brush.  Several minutes later, I shot a Bobcat.  We gave it the usual 10-15 minutes or so to let the nerves settle before we approached it.  I told Cole to open the door and start crawling down and as soon as he opened the door, he said "What's that?" I was still packing up and wasn't in a position to see what he was talking about. He said "Is that another Bobcat? It's huge!"  I said "Where?" and moved over to look out the window and Cole said "It's gone." I said which way did it go?" and he pointed north.  We quickly hopped in the truck and tried to follow, but what ever it was, was gone.

Bobcat From The Deer Blind

On the way home that night, I quizzed him about what he saw.  He was certain it was not a deer, and it was "way bigger than a bobcat".  When I got home, I showed him a picture of a Mountain Lion and he said "That's it!" He was 7 or 8 then.  I don't think he even knew what a Mountain Lion was until I explained it to him.  He has never been one to tell tall tales, so I tend to believe that (at the very least) he thinks he saw a Mountain Lion.  Chupacabra maybe?  Who knows?!?

Have you had any “hair raising” experiences outdoors?  Comment below or on the 46 Outdoors Facebook page and share them.  

Adventure Files: Family Canoe Trip Gone Wrong Part 2

Guadalupe River
Photo: Bryan Taylor

Our trip down the Guadalupe continues.  If you haven't read Part 1, please take a look. We are about 3/4 of the way through our trip and there is more drama to come.

After we thanked the couple for helping us get as much of our things together as possible, we headed off again.  Not too far downstream, we encountered another rapid that had a small drop.  There was a small gravel bar with maybe an inch of water running over it to the left side of the river. I motioned to Laura to head over there with me and she did.  We got out of the canoes and the kids played in a small eddy out of the current while I tried to figure out the best line to get through these rapids.  At some point, I became aware that this was the rapid the man spoke about where there was a chute off to the right side.  I watched as some tubers went through the rapids and some went around through the chute. I guess he had given up on waiting for us. 

I thought about the options and although I saw tubers go in and tubers come out, the safety of my family squashed and notion of adventure here.  The kids were having fun playing and Laura really wanted to keep going.  I didn’t want to put my family through that again, so I decided I would walk the canoes through the rapids myself, which I did.

Once I reached the other side, We set sail again for Bigfoot Canoes with the hope that we had just crossed our last rapid.  There was a short peaceful paddle to the FM 311 bridge (also known as Esser’s Crossing) where we encountered another rapid.

Brother and sister at Nichols Landing
Photo: Chris Carson

This one seemed to be pretty tame in comparison to the last two. No drop in elevation, just about 500 feet

of fast running water over a rock garden.  We began to encounter trouble again when we bottomed out. Laura hit a larger boulder that tossed Caitlyn out like a ragdoll.  Caitlyn actually seemed to be having fun. To hear her tell the story, she just bailed out.  As she bailed out, Laura fell to that side and began taking on water. She rolled out held on to the canoe for what seemed like an eternity.  I kept telling her to let go and she just kept looking at me. It was a tremendously amazing feat of strength I was watching as she held on to that canoe in fast moving water while it was filling up with rushing water.

I was stuck, bottomed out in my canoe.  If I stood up, and helped her, it would have floated off with Cole and Cody in the rapids.  I was not in a position to help her without putting my two son’s in danger.  Finally, after pleading with her to let go, she asked “Where is Caitlyn?”  She didn’t see that Caitlyn swam to shore just like I told her to do before we ever left home. She finally let go.  I found out later that she never saw Caitlyn swim away, and couldn't see her over the canoe. She thought Caitlyn was trapped or on the other side of the canoe and was afraid that she would get run over by the canoe if she let go. 

About the time she did finally let go, a woman who had been there with some other folks came out to help.  I stood up and pushed my canoe with the kids in it across about 30 feet of VERY fast moving water about 4 inches deep or so.  I literally had to push this canoe running behind it as fast as I could to get it to shore. It reminded me of many football workouts 30 years ago pushing the sled.

Guadalupe River
Photo: Brian Taylor

With the drift I encountered, I was about 25 yards downstream from where Laura was when I finally got it beached. I went back for her. The woman grabbed the canoe and was in some deeper, slower water where she could anchor it.  Laura was sitting in the rapids where she turned over still catching her breath.  I knew she was safe there and was not ready to stand up and make her way across the rushing water, so I grabbed the canoe and this nice woman helped me with getting the canoe (full of water) across the fast moving water and beached again now about 30 yards downstream. I went back again for Laura as she made her way to the canoes. 

The woman, who came to help, assisted me in flipping the canoe to get the water out. About this time, a man who seemed drunk came to help Laura who was sitting in the water near the canoes still catching her breath.  As he was trying to help her up or something, he dropped the woman’s dog in the water. She quickly snatched up the dog and gave him an earful as they left. It was a very awkward situation.  Later, Laura asked me “What was that guy doing?” Truthfully, I was baffled.

We got back in the canoes and paddled downstream again hoping we had seen our last rapids before the take out at Bigfoot.  Low and behold, the next turn in the river was the take out. Laura and I were glad to see it.  The kids still wanted to play.  I called the office at Bigfoot and told them we were at the take out.  The man told me that the driver would be back soon.

We let the kids play in the river while we waited. Another group of tubers showed up, picked up their tubes and headed up the hill for their cars.  Another group with some tubes and canoes showed up.  It had been 30 minutes or so since I called.  They were going to leave their rented canoes there and just head back to their cars.  I wasn’t about to haul our borrowed canoe uphill a half a mile to the truck, but I considered going to get the truck.  About the time I prepared to hike to the truck, the old beat up Scout II that took us to Nichol’s Landing showed up.  We loaded our things and headed back to the truck.  

The golf ball sized lump on Laura’s arm was holding steady.  She had good mobility and we were all hungry, so we decided to stop at Beefy’s Backyard in Spring Branch to eat some dinner, lick our wounds and decompress a little before we headed home. On the way into the restaurant, we ran into some baseball friends coming back from a tournament. Even telling them the ordeal then didn’t seem to do it justice.

Guadalupe River
Photo Bryan Taylor

I was just thinking about starting this blog back then and it took me quite some time to write about this

experience.  Some of the details are a little fuzzy at this point, but I know some things for certain.  Caitlyn and Cole were tested that day and they proved to be smart and good listeners even though there was some pretty dangerous situations.  They handled it well. I guess we didn’t do a very good job of preparing Cody for this adventure. He had no idea what to expect. I believe this is why he was so scared to start off the trip.

In the future, I will always inspect the craft in which we travel. As I’m thinking about it now, I don’t ever remember more than a basic once over in looking at either canoe.  Don’t ever take for granted that things are in good condition.

I will also have back up plans for these kinds of trips.  Where can we take out along the way if something were to happen?  How will we get back to where we need to be? etc.

We have not let this dampen our adventurous spirit. Laura and I have discussed it with the kids and pointed out things we could have done better or been better prepared for. 

I should have known that a canoe trip with two adults and three kids (one of which was 4) with experience being little to none was not a good idea. A trip to a lake in a protected cove out of the wind would have been a much better idea. I might have even been able to fish a little with that kind of trip!

Most of all, I thank God for watching over us and putting those helpful souls in our path. Without the help of these people, we would have probably lost a canoe and many other things at the very least. Laura is still upset about her ring to this day, but I am thankful it was only the ring that was lost when you consider other alternatives like our lives or our kids.