November 26th, 2011:
Brookfield, NY
Whitetail Deer
Set the last couple hours of daylight aside today to enjoy an afternoon in
the deer woods. After meeting with my fur buyer / friend, it was back down to
our hill in Brookfield to try and fill the one remaining DMP.
Partly sunny skies with temperatures in the 50’s made for a very
comfortable late November outing. Light weight clothing, gloveless hands, and a
ball cap are far from the usual attire this time of year. 2011 has truly seen an
exceptionally warm fall. Many are saying we will pay for it with lake effect
snow this winter…
A fairly careful still hunt had me up the hill and on stand around 3:30pm.
The final hour of the day would be spent in the same location as opening day’s
morning hunt. This effort was the first this season that didn’t have much
preplanning or evaluation. Taking a carefree, “willy nilly” approach provided a
fine sense of joyful freedom. In a way, I actually missed the less focused way
of going about it…
Tucked in amongst a series of blow downs, the area was much harder to scan
without any snow on the ground. A small nearby spring brook had risen a bit from
the snow melt, and was playing perfect music by feeling everything in its purest
form. Other than the trickling water, the woods was very, very quiet.
Over the song of the brook, the ears were dialing in on every little
sound in the dry leaves. It was almost as if the mind wanted to hear approaching
deer so bad that it was creating audible hallucinations. On several occasions my
heart was fluttering and my hands were gripping at the gun, only to realize it
wasn’t deer approaching that I had heard…
Just as the fat lady stepped up to the mic, the undeniable sound of
approaching footsteps erupted about a hundred yards out in front of me. I could
see a large dark figure slowly moving about. First thought (safest thought) was
that it might be another hunter.
As the being turned broadside, it became obvious that it was a large
animal!? It looked to be a Bear! It immediately registered that a bear season
was opened up in this area a couple years back in an effort to eliminate a
population from establishing itself. Never thought in a million years that I
would actually see one down this way.
Being ever so careful to make sure it wasn’t a lost calf or some sort of
livestock, I studied it in the scope. “Oh my god!” “It is a bear!” “A good sized
bear!!” I lined up the crosshairs behind the bear’s shoulder and eased back the
trigger. KA BWOWW! The rifle roared, and the bear immediately went into a
powerful “fullback” type sprint.
It was knocking down trees as it ran. There was a concussion that could
be felt through the ground and air from the massive animal’s paws pounding on
the earth. Just as it went over a nearby ridge out of sight, there was a loud
crashing commotion. It was obvious that the bear had gone down. I was standing
there in disbelief as if a lightning bolt had just passed through me.
Suddenly, there was this loud, all encompassing, deep moaning sound
echoing through the woods. The bear was down! A snap judgment was made to
quickly make my way to the downed bear to finish it off.
Moving quickly toward the crashing and moaning, I was making quite a bit
of noise myself. Suddenly, as if the bear had heard me coming, the sound of it
crashing about turned and began moving quickly toward me!! Oh my god! It was
coming to confront me!!
Like a soldier in combat, I dropped to a knee and braced for the
incoming danger. The life threatening situation instantly provoked a heightened
state of awareness. The moment another shot presented itself, my mind was ready
to dial in on the shot like a computer. Missing was not an option.
Before the bear showed itself, the woods once again grew very quiet. The
hairs on the back of the neck felt the air for the slightest trace of vibration.
Hands remained readied to react with mechanical type precision.
Silence remained for a few minutes, so once again it was time to press on
forward. A short stalk revealed the big black mass lying motionless on the
ground. Holy Shit! I had just harvested a big ole black bear!! But wait, How am
I going to get it out of here? I’m almost a mile up into the woods hunting by
myself.
The worried thought passed for a few minutes as I just admired the bear.
God, those minutes will certainly be with me till the end. The bear’s design is so
massive and powerful. It was an awe striking experience to say the least…
After admiring the bear, it was onto field dressing it. Always wondered what
it would be like to do one. It really wasn’t much different from a deer. Crazy
thing was, there was movement a short ways away the whole time I was cleaning it
out.
It sounded like something big was rustling around in the leaves a short
ways away. Thinking it might be another bear, the rifle remained within grabbing
distance the entire time. Speaking loudly didn’t seem to be scaring the creature
off. Eventually, whatever it was moved away without issue.
Next, it was onto facing the music of getting it out of the woods. There
was just no way I was going to get it back to the truck on my own. God bless the
cell phone! One call to my father, and it so happens that his neighbors are
hunting down the road from me and willing to help!
Within an hour of giving the guys direction, there is three flashlights
heading up the hill toward me. The first guy I meet is Joe. Built like a
linebacker, Joe looked like he could do some serious pulling. Soon as I saw him,
the words just left my mouth. “Oh yeah, we got some big ole’ boys!”
The other two men are both good sized guys as well. I couldn’t thank them
enough for coming to help. They said they were just happy to be part of the bear
harvest. Josh and Ryan Cobb grew up a few houses down from me. Both are avid
outdoorsmen and great people.
Together, we pulled that bear through the bush with everything we had.
Finally getting to the truck provided a great sense of accomplishment. We all
shook hands and admired the massive animal for awhile. Each one of us surely had
a good night’s sleep.
Before heading back home, I had to stop by my parent’s house to show
them the bear. Dad had a spotlight set up in the yard. Neighbors all gathered
around taking pictures. There was all sorts of cameras and flashes going off as
I sat there holding the bear’s head up on the back of my truck. I think I might
have caught a glimpse of what it’s like to be a celebrity.
Now it’s on to getting the bear examined by the DEC, processed for the
table, and prepared for the taxidermist. This hunt was literally a dream come
true. Life is oh so sweet!
Brookfield, NY
Whitetail Deer
Set the last couple hours of daylight aside today to enjoy an afternoon in
the deer woods. After meeting with my fur buyer / friend, it was back down to
our hill in Brookfield to try and fill the one remaining DMP.
Partly sunny skies with temperatures in the 50’s made for a very
comfortable late November outing. Light weight clothing, gloveless hands, and a
ball cap are far from the usual attire this time of year. 2011 has truly seen an
exceptionally warm fall. Many are saying we will pay for it with lake effect
snow this winter…
A fairly careful still hunt had me up the hill and on stand around 3:30pm.
The final hour of the day would be spent in the same location as opening day’s
morning hunt. This effort was the first this season that didn’t have much
preplanning or evaluation. Taking a carefree, “willy nilly” approach provided a
fine sense of joyful freedom. In a way, I actually missed the less focused way
of going about it…
Tucked in amongst a series of blow downs, the area was much harder to scan
without any snow on the ground. A small nearby spring brook had risen a bit from
the snow melt, and was playing perfect music by feeling everything in its purest
form. Other than the trickling water, the woods was very, very quiet.
Over the song of the brook, the ears were dialing in on every little
sound in the dry leaves. It was almost as if the mind wanted to hear approaching
deer so bad that it was creating audible hallucinations. On several occasions my
heart was fluttering and my hands were gripping at the gun, only to realize it
wasn’t deer approaching that I had heard…
Just as the fat lady stepped up to the mic, the undeniable sound of
approaching footsteps erupted about a hundred yards out in front of me. I could
see a large dark figure slowly moving about. First thought (safest thought) was
that it might be another hunter.
As the being turned broadside, it became obvious that it was a large
animal!? It looked to be a Bear! It immediately registered that a bear season
was opened up in this area a couple years back in an effort to eliminate a
population from establishing itself. Never thought in a million years that I
would actually see one down this way.
Being ever so careful to make sure it wasn’t a lost calf or some sort of
livestock, I studied it in the scope. “Oh my god!” “It is a bear!” “A good sized
bear!!” I lined up the crosshairs behind the bear’s shoulder and eased back the
trigger. KA BWOWW! The rifle roared, and the bear immediately went into a
powerful “fullback” type sprint.
It was knocking down trees as it ran. There was a concussion that could
be felt through the ground and air from the massive animal’s paws pounding on
the earth. Just as it went over a nearby ridge out of sight, there was a loud
crashing commotion. It was obvious that the bear had gone down. I was standing
there in disbelief as if a lightning bolt had just passed through me.
Suddenly, there was this loud, all encompassing, deep moaning sound
echoing through the woods. The bear was down! A snap judgment was made to
quickly make my way to the downed bear to finish it off.
Moving quickly toward the crashing and moaning, I was making quite a bit
of noise myself. Suddenly, as if the bear had heard me coming, the sound of it
crashing about turned and began moving quickly toward me!! Oh my god! It was
coming to confront me!!
Like a soldier in combat, I dropped to a knee and braced for the
incoming danger. The life threatening situation instantly provoked a heightened
state of awareness. The moment another shot presented itself, my mind was ready
to dial in on the shot like a computer. Missing was not an option.
Before the bear showed itself, the woods once again grew very quiet. The
hairs on the back of the neck felt the air for the slightest trace of vibration.
Hands remained readied to react with mechanical type precision.
Silence remained for a few minutes, so once again it was time to press on
forward. A short stalk revealed the big black mass lying motionless on the
ground. Holy Shit! I had just harvested a big ole black bear!! But wait, How am
I going to get it out of here? I’m almost a mile up into the woods hunting by
myself.
The worried thought passed for a few minutes as I just admired the bear.
God, those minutes will certainly be with me till the end. The bear’s design is so
massive and powerful. It was an awe striking experience to say the least…
After admiring the bear, it was onto field dressing it. Always wondered what
it would be like to do one. It really wasn’t much different from a deer. Crazy
thing was, there was movement a short ways away the whole time I was cleaning it
out.
It sounded like something big was rustling around in the leaves a short
ways away. Thinking it might be another bear, the rifle remained within grabbing
distance the entire time. Speaking loudly didn’t seem to be scaring the creature
off. Eventually, whatever it was moved away without issue.
Next, it was onto facing the music of getting it out of the woods. There
was just no way I was going to get it back to the truck on my own. God bless the
cell phone! One call to my father, and it so happens that his neighbors are
hunting down the road from me and willing to help!
Within an hour of giving the guys direction, there is three flashlights
heading up the hill toward me. The first guy I meet is Joe. Built like a
linebacker, Joe looked like he could do some serious pulling. Soon as I saw him,
the words just left my mouth. “Oh yeah, we got some big ole’ boys!”
The other two men are both good sized guys as well. I couldn’t thank them
enough for coming to help. They said they were just happy to be part of the bear
harvest. Josh and Ryan Cobb grew up a few houses down from me. Both are avid
outdoorsmen and great people.
Together, we pulled that bear through the bush with everything we had.
Finally getting to the truck provided a great sense of accomplishment. We all
shook hands and admired the massive animal for awhile. Each one of us surely had
a good night’s sleep.
Before heading back home, I had to stop by my parent’s house to show
them the bear. Dad had a spotlight set up in the yard. Neighbors all gathered
around taking pictures. There was all sorts of cameras and flashes going off as
I sat there holding the bear’s head up on the back of my truck. I think I might
have caught a glimpse of what it’s like to be a celebrity.
Now it’s on to getting the bear examined by the DEC, processed for the
table, and prepared for the taxidermist. This hunt was literally a dream come
true. Life is oh so sweet!
July 23rd, 2011:
Chautauqua Lake
Western NY
Muskellunge
Life is sustained by the brutal fact that one living entity must kill another
in order to survive. The muskellunge blatantly represents this harsh reality.
It’s monstrous looking face full of teeth conjures up dream like visions. Lions
taking down zebras, Hulk Hogan flexing his muscles, and children crying for
their mother, all seem relevant. The muskie is a jack-in-the-box killer designed
by what makes the awareness on earth tick.
Huge muskellunge are the epitome of fresh water fishing goals. Visions
of huge fifty inch muskies are the kind of thing that gets an angler up out of
bed at absurd hours of the morning. Many an ole’ boy has grunted the word musky
at his partner to fuel the adrenalin for a day on the water. Muskellunge are the
fish that dreams are made of…
For someone in the central New York area, it is at least a three hour drive
to a body of water that houses pure strain muskellunge. Because of time and
distance, it can be challenging to gain the knowledge needed to dial in on these
fish. Resulting from these factors today, was the decision to hire a fishing
guide to assist in the pursuit of a big muskie.
Careful research led to Chautauqua Lake and Capt. Larry Jones. Larry is
a very accomplished and well known musky fishermen. He has boated countless
large muskies and gives seminars across the country. Larry has won several
prestigious titles in national competitions and knows celebrity anglers like
Pete Mania on a personal level. The man is a living legend…
Chautauqua Lake is located in the furthest western reaches of New York State.
Nestled in amongst fields and fields of grapevines, the area is rather flat but
still quite scenic. Chautauqua is a natural producer of muskellunge and it’s
state run hatchery provides fish for the entire country. Larry was saying that
every lake that does not have a natural occurring muskie population can trace
it’s fish back to either Chautauqua Lake or The Great Lakes.
Today’s effort on the water started out very alert and full of
excitement. After ten and a half hours of slow trolling plugs in 90 degree
weather our awareness became a bit duller. Nodding in and out of consciousness
the mind had drifted into a vague place painted with patience, despair, and
hope.
Every so often the Captain would call upon our focus to tend to our
presentation. One guy had to steer the boat while the other removed any floating
weeds that had built up on the lines. It was during one of these cleanings when
the drag started to sing on one of the rods.
Capt. Larry shouted “fish!” as I looked back to see one of the rods on
the verge of snapping off in the holder. The mind rushed out from it’s
subconscious trance and went into high gear. It fought to completely come into
focus and sort through the excitement. During the struggle to pull the rod free
from the holder the song of the drag turned into an outright screaming fit.
Finally, all the years of fantasizing were given a chance in the real world.
The fish immediately came to the surface and stayed there. First
glimpses of the fish had the heart trying to break free from the chest. A girthy
musky body thrashed around wildly on the surface of the water. All that could be
done was pray that the lure didn’t fly out of the huge toothy mouth.
Captain Larry gave the warning to brace for a spasm from the fish once
it was able to see the boat. Approximately six feet from the boat it exploded
into a hyper active ballistic fit. I think the mouth leaked out an “Oh God”, as
Capt. Larry worked the net under it.
Once the fish was securely in our grasp the super ego lost control and
the id erupted into wild screams of victory and joy. A prisoner of hope, work,
and despair flew free from I.T.’s cell. A gigantic muskellunge had been
conquered. The dream had come true and the high was pure bliss…
Our musky stretched the tape measure at almost four feet long before being
carefully released to swim another day. Visions of that fish are forever etched
into the memory banks of the brain. Perhaps a replica mount will be done to
immortalize the fish even more; That is still yet to be determined…
On the outside it definitely would appear that the fish was the biggest catch
of the day. Perhaps it was, but a very valuable lesson in patience was also
reinforced. Developing the drive to exhibit patience like we did today could
lead to many more incredible accomplishments.
Chautauqua Lake
Western NY
Muskellunge
Life is sustained by the brutal fact that one living entity must kill another
in order to survive. The muskellunge blatantly represents this harsh reality.
It’s monstrous looking face full of teeth conjures up dream like visions. Lions
taking down zebras, Hulk Hogan flexing his muscles, and children crying for
their mother, all seem relevant. The muskie is a jack-in-the-box killer designed
by what makes the awareness on earth tick.
Huge muskellunge are the epitome of fresh water fishing goals. Visions
of huge fifty inch muskies are the kind of thing that gets an angler up out of
bed at absurd hours of the morning. Many an ole’ boy has grunted the word musky
at his partner to fuel the adrenalin for a day on the water. Muskellunge are the
fish that dreams are made of…
For someone in the central New York area, it is at least a three hour drive
to a body of water that houses pure strain muskellunge. Because of time and
distance, it can be challenging to gain the knowledge needed to dial in on these
fish. Resulting from these factors today, was the decision to hire a fishing
guide to assist in the pursuit of a big muskie.
Careful research led to Chautauqua Lake and Capt. Larry Jones. Larry is
a very accomplished and well known musky fishermen. He has boated countless
large muskies and gives seminars across the country. Larry has won several
prestigious titles in national competitions and knows celebrity anglers like
Pete Mania on a personal level. The man is a living legend…
Chautauqua Lake is located in the furthest western reaches of New York State.
Nestled in amongst fields and fields of grapevines, the area is rather flat but
still quite scenic. Chautauqua is a natural producer of muskellunge and it’s
state run hatchery provides fish for the entire country. Larry was saying that
every lake that does not have a natural occurring muskie population can trace
it’s fish back to either Chautauqua Lake or The Great Lakes.
Today’s effort on the water started out very alert and full of
excitement. After ten and a half hours of slow trolling plugs in 90 degree
weather our awareness became a bit duller. Nodding in and out of consciousness
the mind had drifted into a vague place painted with patience, despair, and
hope.
Every so often the Captain would call upon our focus to tend to our
presentation. One guy had to steer the boat while the other removed any floating
weeds that had built up on the lines. It was during one of these cleanings when
the drag started to sing on one of the rods.
Capt. Larry shouted “fish!” as I looked back to see one of the rods on
the verge of snapping off in the holder. The mind rushed out from it’s
subconscious trance and went into high gear. It fought to completely come into
focus and sort through the excitement. During the struggle to pull the rod free
from the holder the song of the drag turned into an outright screaming fit.
Finally, all the years of fantasizing were given a chance in the real world.
The fish immediately came to the surface and stayed there. First
glimpses of the fish had the heart trying to break free from the chest. A girthy
musky body thrashed around wildly on the surface of the water. All that could be
done was pray that the lure didn’t fly out of the huge toothy mouth.
Captain Larry gave the warning to brace for a spasm from the fish once
it was able to see the boat. Approximately six feet from the boat it exploded
into a hyper active ballistic fit. I think the mouth leaked out an “Oh God”, as
Capt. Larry worked the net under it.
Once the fish was securely in our grasp the super ego lost control and
the id erupted into wild screams of victory and joy. A prisoner of hope, work,
and despair flew free from I.T.’s cell. A gigantic muskellunge had been
conquered. The dream had come true and the high was pure bliss…
Our musky stretched the tape measure at almost four feet long before being
carefully released to swim another day. Visions of that fish are forever etched
into the memory banks of the brain. Perhaps a replica mount will be done to
immortalize the fish even more; That is still yet to be determined…
On the outside it definitely would appear that the fish was the biggest catch
of the day. Perhaps it was, but a very valuable lesson in patience was also
reinforced. Developing the drive to exhibit patience like we did today could
lead to many more incredible accomplishments.
November 6th:
--Trapline--
Marcy, NY > Steuben, NY
Coyote, Red Fox, Grey Fox, Raccoon
Mink, Muskrat, Beaver, Otter
After a fantastic day on the trapline, the acquisition of company for today’s
check kept the high rolling along. My main man Jonathan wanted in on the action.
After a good breakfast, we hit the ground running in anticipation of some new
catches.
We saddled up the four wheeler and slowly muscled through the terrain
checking the half dozen sets that are here behind the house. Smiles defined us
as we excitedly rounded the corner to each trap location. The short first leg
quickly came and went without any new catches.
Next, it was onto the water line before wrapping it up behind gramma’s
house. Jon worked his way along the banks of the creek as I checked traps and
installed new ones. He did a great job of pointing out hollow spots up in the
banks of the creek. His young eyes quickly dial in on where the furbearers are
going…
Emotions plunged below the sea level at one unfortunate point. Traversing a
flooded pasture, Jon was riding piggy back to dry land. The muck bottom provided
little support as we moved out into the deepest part of our obstacle. It became
too deep and Jon’s little rubber “barn boots” quickly filled up with icy cold
water. Panic got the best of him, but we sorted through the situation. Uncle
Issiah’s big wooly socks were protected by neoprene waders and remained dry and
toasty. They rode all the way up Jon’s little legs and saved the day!!
Again, no beavers, rats, or mink. There was a sprung pair of 330’s
guarding the entrance to some bank dens used by beaver. It is the same situation
as last year. Explanation is leaning toward muskrats springing the big traps
without getting caught…
There are many spots where the beaver are entering / exiting the water to
access the trees up on the shoreline. Most of these locations are too steep to
guard off with a large conibear trap. Many look to be excellent spots for foot
holds with drowning rigs. Trouble is, I have no experience or the equipment
needed for that method. If I’m going to continue to be welcomed to trap the
creek without company then I better go get the gear and figure this out. The
beavers are really making a mess and the farmer wants them out!
A few new traps were put in for rats in some very hot looking locations.
Perfect little bank den holes were guarded with 110 conibears and 1 ½ foot
holds. There should be some new fur to throw on the pile soon.
After our work was done on the existing water line there was still no
word from my friend doing the trap check at the hunting lease. So, everything
must have been left untouched there.
It was onto to our last leg of the line behind gramma’s house. Hope was
in the air with the new set edition going in last night. The new dirt hole set
was only twenty yards from yesterday’s end of the line catch. The remake was
quickly made into a post set. To be honest, the mind was already preparing for
the skunk. It had been a beautiful fall day with great company.
Prepping for the minor disappointment proved to be unnecessary. Driving
down the little two track road behind gramma’s, we cruised along like a plane
headed down the runway. Fifty yards from the new set location, I began seeing
the coyote head darting around through the brush. The nose of our plane lifted
up as I turned around to look at Jonathan behind me. His young eyes were wide
with excitement and we were airborne!!
Glowing with pride, Jon and I took some memorable pictures of the great
catch. It was the perfect ending to our day on the line together. We headed back
home hungry and tired but happy with fulfillment. The magnificent predator lay
over the pack basket with its fur flowing in the wind. The ride was laced with
bliss having the elusive target in our laps.
Furthering the sense of accomplishment was the perfect front paw catch.
The coyote appeared to have committed to the set just as I had directed it. The
winning lures were Chain Reaction, Red Tornado, Red Fox Urine, & a fresh
piece of venison. All the lures are made by Night Owl.
--Trapline--
Marcy, NY > Steuben, NY
Coyote, Red Fox, Grey Fox, Raccoon
Mink, Muskrat, Beaver, Otter
After a fantastic day on the trapline, the acquisition of company for today’s
check kept the high rolling along. My main man Jonathan wanted in on the action.
After a good breakfast, we hit the ground running in anticipation of some new
catches.
We saddled up the four wheeler and slowly muscled through the terrain
checking the half dozen sets that are here behind the house. Smiles defined us
as we excitedly rounded the corner to each trap location. The short first leg
quickly came and went without any new catches.
Next, it was onto the water line before wrapping it up behind gramma’s
house. Jon worked his way along the banks of the creek as I checked traps and
installed new ones. He did a great job of pointing out hollow spots up in the
banks of the creek. His young eyes quickly dial in on where the furbearers are
going…
Emotions plunged below the sea level at one unfortunate point. Traversing a
flooded pasture, Jon was riding piggy back to dry land. The muck bottom provided
little support as we moved out into the deepest part of our obstacle. It became
too deep and Jon’s little rubber “barn boots” quickly filled up with icy cold
water. Panic got the best of him, but we sorted through the situation. Uncle
Issiah’s big wooly socks were protected by neoprene waders and remained dry and
toasty. They rode all the way up Jon’s little legs and saved the day!!
Again, no beavers, rats, or mink. There was a sprung pair of 330’s
guarding the entrance to some bank dens used by beaver. It is the same situation
as last year. Explanation is leaning toward muskrats springing the big traps
without getting caught…
There are many spots where the beaver are entering / exiting the water to
access the trees up on the shoreline. Most of these locations are too steep to
guard off with a large conibear trap. Many look to be excellent spots for foot
holds with drowning rigs. Trouble is, I have no experience or the equipment
needed for that method. If I’m going to continue to be welcomed to trap the
creek without company then I better go get the gear and figure this out. The
beavers are really making a mess and the farmer wants them out!
A few new traps were put in for rats in some very hot looking locations.
Perfect little bank den holes were guarded with 110 conibears and 1 ½ foot
holds. There should be some new fur to throw on the pile soon.
After our work was done on the existing water line there was still no
word from my friend doing the trap check at the hunting lease. So, everything
must have been left untouched there.
It was onto to our last leg of the line behind gramma’s house. Hope was
in the air with the new set edition going in last night. The new dirt hole set
was only twenty yards from yesterday’s end of the line catch. The remake was
quickly made into a post set. To be honest, the mind was already preparing for
the skunk. It had been a beautiful fall day with great company.
Prepping for the minor disappointment proved to be unnecessary. Driving
down the little two track road behind gramma’s, we cruised along like a plane
headed down the runway. Fifty yards from the new set location, I began seeing
the coyote head darting around through the brush. The nose of our plane lifted
up as I turned around to look at Jonathan behind me. His young eyes were wide
with excitement and we were airborne!!
Glowing with pride, Jon and I took some memorable pictures of the great
catch. It was the perfect ending to our day on the line together. We headed back
home hungry and tired but happy with fulfillment. The magnificent predator lay
over the pack basket with its fur flowing in the wind. The ride was laced with
bliss having the elusive target in our laps.
Furthering the sense of accomplishment was the perfect front paw catch.
The coyote appeared to have committed to the set just as I had directed it. The
winning lures were Chain Reaction, Red Tornado, Red Fox Urine, & a fresh
piece of venison. All the lures are made by Night Owl.
