We've Moved!

Times have changed and the Nimrod crews run on blogger is over. This is a decent platform for a blog, especially for the not so tech savvy.

Times are changing and Nimrod is eying some major changes to the blog. The first step is to move the blog to a new platform. One that is easier to integrate and allows us to do more with the blog.

Have no fear, all the old posts and comments were imported to the new blog. Its the same ol Nimrod, just new location.

Please update any bookmarks to:

nimroddiaries.wordpress.com

Also if your on the Facebook stop by and like the Nimrod Diaries page:

www.facebook.com/NimrodDiaries

The future is bright and open ended!


See you in the outdoors!

Happy Birthday OBN!

In the every expanding and redundant world of electronic communication you occasionally find a means that fits what you need perfectly. The Nimrod crew doesn't need phones that are smarter than we are, nor do we need a way of posting to Facebook, Google+, Tweeter, youtube, Vimeo, or whatever else all with the click of a fake button.

Awhile back Nimrod was looking for a way to promote the diaries to other outdoor bloggers/enthusiasts as well as motivation and help with the Diaries. I tried a few websites but never felt it was a good fit. Then I found it. "The One."

It seems so long ago; seems like yesterday. The place is the Outdoor Blogger Network. Tomorrow, Oct 18th, they are celebrating their one year anniversary. Crazy. It seems like it was last night I was debating if I wanted more people actually reading the Diaries. Wait it was. Anyway, in celebration they are having a series of giveaways to members. Check out the post on the OBN for more details.

If you have an outdoor blog I highly recommend having it listed in the OBN Directory. Its free and will give your blog more visibility to the outdoor reader. I have not taken full advantage of the exposure but know the exposure on OBN can be priceless. Check them out if your looking for a great outdoor blog to read (don't worry I won't think your cheating). The OBN Directory has it all. If they don't start up the blog and add it to the OBN Directory!

OBN: Congrats on the first year! We look forward to many, many more. And thanks for putting up with those of us on the Nimrod Diaries.

Nimrod on Checking Acorn Crops

Its that time of year again. The mother of all seasons is nearly upon us. Nimrod tends to stay away from “how to” posts here at the Diaries. However I thought I would share a Nimrod deer scouting tip with you.

Nimrod ranch is in the middle of a oak forest so a primary food source to look for is acorns (akerns for my southern friends). Deer love them and God drops them on the ground for free. All is good in the world.

Some people claim deer prefer the white oaks over other oaks; as such will target the white oaks before the reds or other species. I have asked a few deer what they thought and the deer replied flipping me a white tail and running away. I am still curious how these people got the deer to talk about their preferences.

Often folks will look up at the sky and look for the acorns in the top of the trees. Some even resort to scorching their retinas by using binoculars to check the tree tops against the burning sun. Nimrod has a better and less painful way to check the yearly acorn crop.

First of all find two oak trees. Preferably a white and a red. Check the surrounding areas for obstacles. Retrieve the chain saw. Carefully drop the tree to the ground.

Once the tree is on the ground it is easy to check the crop of acorns without stressing or injuring your eyes. While its a small sampling it gives you a good indication of the number of nuts those two trees would have dropped. The bonus is that once the wood seasons, you will have a good amount of hardwood for campfires, smoking venison or heating the Ranch.

This years test showed the trees had a decent number of nuts.

Now to the business side of things. Nimrod is playing around with a new hosting platform for the Diaries. This post and the next few will be posted to the old URL (http://nimroddiaries.blogspot.com/2011/09/nimrod-on-checking-acorn-crops.html) as well of the new URL (http://nimroddiaries.wordpress.com/2011/09/09/nimrod-on-checking-acorn-crops/). Please let me know which one you prefer. Your input is important; we surely don’t want Nimrod making this choice on his own. Depending on the response we may switch the Diaries over to the new platform.

Less than a week until Michigan’s early doe season and small game season. 22 days until Michigan’s Bow Season! See ya in the woods!

Monopoly, Murph and Mental Batteries

Murph, Murph, Murph. My favorite guy to hate and bash. After a few months of summer without seeing hid nor hair of him. Much to our my chagrin he has decided to return to the Nimrod Ranch.

The working weekend was long. Work had my batteries drained. I was pulling from power reserves that seemingly didn’t exist. Yet like everything, good or bad, it comes to an end. In this case it was a good thing. A very good thing.

Nimrod had one day off in a seven day week and it was upon us. I knew to make the best of it. Yoop, Monkey, Munda and I did several things around the ranch. Campfires, marshmallows, games of monopoly. Just hanging out doing fun family things. The Nimrod battery was recharging smoothly.

One particular game of Monopoly between Monkey and I was a classic example of keeping your mouth shut. Nimrod was laying his best tycoon to poor Monkey. After the third time of landing on St James Place and paying for the hotel, Monkey was ready to call it quits. Ya know throw in the towel. Bow to the Monopoly master.

Trying to instill some perseverance into the young lad I suggested we play a little more. After all the mini miser had a few houses on Boardwalk and Park Place. Telling him you never know what can happen he agreed to play on. My next roll landed my boot on Park Place. Nearly $1000 later and using my money to buy hotels for his dark blue spaces he rolled the dice. He landed in one of the few spaces that were not covered by houses and hotels it was my turn again.

I rolled the dice, confident after a few more rolls I would be the rightful winner, landing on Chance. Drawing the card, all the while looking forward to adding $10 to my cash pile for getting second place in a beauty contest. I flipped it over and read it. I don’t know the exact look on my face but I saw the elation in Monkeys’ eyes as I put my boot on Boardwalk, following the directions of talking a walk on the Boardwalk.

Now with $2000 less in my money pile I began to wonder what was going on. Moving from a position of certain winning to being several behind in the chip count I was left perplexed. After a few more rolls I landed on another of the Monkey owned, hotel laden, properties I payed out the remaining bills from my deleted money pile. Lessoned learned by young and old. Never give up, you never know what might happen.

After the butt whooping in a game for people a few years his elder we continued on to a supper for grilled burgers and sides. Life is good. That battery is nearly full. However part way through the weekend I knew this day off was going to take more than normal to get the batteries back to full charge. The additional drain that was put on my batteries needed a bit of an additional boost to get back to full charge. Anyone who has been in Nimrods shoes knows you can’t leave you batteries only partially charged, you have to get them back to 100%.

Knowing this I had told Yoop the evening was going to have to be spent on some moving water with a fly rod in my hand. I knew the right place for the final charge.

After a great supper and more family time I set off to finish the charge my batteries needed. I drove to a near by creek that happens to be known as the best brown trout fishery for many miles. Time was not on my side. A storm front was moving in at the same time the sun was settling in for the nights rest. I parked the Turse and prep’ed the fly rod for some fun.

Another guy was leaving. We exchanged the normal greetings followed by the standard question of “Did ya catch anything?”

I received a reply of “I caught a limit but if I told you where I would have to kill you.”

Its always good to find other fisherman of a like mind.

I returned to getting the rod ready and opened the trunk to get out some leader material. I moved this and moved that but couldn’t find the leader. Odd since it was left in the trunk after the last Nimrod Crew fishing trip. I looked again, checked under the seats but the leader was missing in action. I looked at the 4 feet of leader on the rod, at the clock and at the sky.

Nimrod is widely known for his decision making ability. Good or bad I make a decision and tonight it was to fish on with a short leader. Figuring it was getting dark, a storm was moving in so the fish would care less about a short leader and more about eating some dinner before the water over flows from rain.

I set off for the creek and meet another guy leaving. This guy was carrying a fish. A big fish. I walked over toward him to check out his catch. A gorgeous steel silver steelhead. He too was tight lipped about where he caught it but made a comment about not snagging it. Since I never even asked about what he was using some flags flew off in my head. Having no proof either way I left the water to flow under the bridge and continued on to finish recharging the internal batteries.

I started at the dam, tossing a caddis fly spin off. After a few minutes I got a raise but missed the hook set. I smiled as the internal battery reached it fully charged point. I continued to fish and worked my way down the creek. Not far down stream I found a hole with at least six visible steelhead feeding violently in an unpredictable cadence. Also a loan chromer sitting idly up stream of a dead fall not far from the others.

Not being one to pass up a chance for fame I offered each of the Oncorhynchus mykiss every fly I had in my fly boxes. Nimrod tried every angle and drift I could think of and successfully pull off with the overhead trees. The Oncorhynchus mykiss continued their unpredictable feeding pattern, all the while predictably ignoring what ever was at the end of my mini-leader. Ignore the fact that if one actually took my offering they would have headed for the log jam, broke off the mini-leader and left my fly reel in smoking pieces. Still would have been a blast.

A short time later I headed for the Turse not run off by rain but the lightning and thunder that accompanied it. There is something about swinging a 9 and a half foot lightning rod that doesn’t appeal to even Nimrod. Call me what you will... electrified I won’t be.

Until next time remember to never give up and don’t leave your leader and tippet at home.

Summer Trip to Yooperland.

I know, I know. You have been waiting and waiting. Thinking about asking me whats the hold up. Wondering if the great outdoors has some how disappeared from the Nimrod ranch. Alas my friends it has not. Work has kept me busy and being Daddy Nimrod has stole the time needed to type out Diary entries for your reading enjoyment. But to quote a great rock song “Here we go again (on our own).”

A well earned summer break has brought the Nimrod crew to the Great Not So White north. Turns out it was in conjunction with Mother Nature deciding to punish the inhabitants of a large portion of the USA. While picking some litter from a Yooper stream I realized mother nature was showing those who have repeatedly not taken care of her what they face if they continue to trash Gods beautiful creation.

Back up to the launch of the adventure. Yoop and I loaded up Monkey and Munda for the journey to the promise land. Rather than packing the rifles we brought our fishing poles, including Nimrods’ fly rod. Would anyone leave the fly rod at home when your going to the middle of some of the best trout streams in the State if not the world? Of course not even if you have no experience fly fishing for trout and the creeks maybe a hair over grown with trees and grass.

On the morning of the launch, I got out of work in the wee morning arrived home to pack the Yoopmobile. Normally we would load the lil’ Nimrods and point the beast north shortly after Nimrod arrived home. Not this time. There is a certain destination the Nimrod crew uses as a halfway break. Its also a long time favorite store for hunters and fisherman as they head into Michigan’s northland. Just so happens this certain slice of heaven (Jays Sporting Goods if your interested) was having its annual sidewalk sales with items in every department up to 80% off. Yea thats right; hunting and fishing stuff up to 80% off... 20 cents on a dollar. It was a closeout sale so we wanted to get there around opening or else we could miss out on a deal. Ya know the fugal Nimrod clan had to check this out.

We set sail about 7am, pointing the Yoopmobile east, then north, then east. Its not a straight cardinal direction to the northland but it works. Monkey and Munda did well on the first leg of the journey only bickering the majority of the time. Nimrod drove the first 50 miles. Far enough to get Yoop out of the concrete jungle of the GR into more laid back less crowded roads she could do less damage on. After that Nimrod crawled into the co-pilots seat and sunk into a pillow. Turned on the MP3 player to a new Wild Michigan Radio podcast. Go figure the main man Duran keeps you entertained throughout the show (both hours) and Nimrod didn’t get the much needed shut eye.

Before we knew it the ship was about to land on this slice of heaven. I had never been to this sale but Logger went a few years back and said the deals were out of this world. I was stoked. After we parked, Munda and I skipped hand in hand to the front door. “There it is Johnny!”

Before opening the doors we admired a sweet 3-D mural of deer and trees and other stuff on the side of the building. I started to get chills all over and I couldn’t open the door to the promise land. Yoop looked at me like I was nuts and said move I need to get to the little girls room and off her and Munda went.

Monkey and I worked our way the same direction. Checking out the sale items as we went. The true reason Yoop allowed me to attend this sale from the heavens was Nimrod is in the market for another compound bow. Late last summer Nimrod was playing lumberjack at Base Ops, clearing out an over grown tree line for Grey Beard and Knitter. You may remember last years hiatus entry. Since then every time I shoot Kabekona the pain shoots from my wrist like rays of light from the setting sun; except it lasts for a few weeks. I reluctantly came to the conclusion if there was going to be a 2011 Bow season I was going to have to change something.

Sadly that meant selling Kabekona and buying a compound. I hate to see the longbow go. She is gorgeous and shoots like a dream. Yet times change and we can change with them or miss the main event... Michigans Greatest season!

After some haggling, getting the shaft and then finding a competent employee at the second store location I walked out the door with a brand spanking new compound bow package and less one longbow. While I hate to see that longbow go, turns out the store manager was a traditional archery guy and will be taking good care of her. The total cost of $59 (thats right: fifty-nine dollars!!) out the door made letting her go much less painful. On the way to check out I meanders over to the fly fishing bins. I glanced at Yoop and she gave me a look. I had seen this look before but never really figured out what it meant. I decided not to push my luck made my way to the check out counter.

The rest of the trip was pretty painless. The wild ones in the back seat did well. Watched a few movies, bickered back and forth. You know typical family trip things that happen on summer vacation trips (of course Book and I never fought on trips as lil ones).

Munda woke up from a nap just before we arrived at the Mackinac Bridge. I preped Yoop by giving her a dose of sedative and handing her an unbreakable stick. If you didn’t know Yoop isn’t a fan of bridges. Especially ones that span around 5 miles at a few hundred feet over the surface of water that is a few hundred feet deep. I give her a hard time but she takes it in stride. Remind me later to tell you about crossing the Mackinac Bridge in winter with a few inches of fresh snow on the bridge deck and the weather eerily similar to a blizzard. Never knew a women that could bend quarters with her hand. I think squeezing them so hard they heat up near the melting point of the metal.

Anyway while we were crossing, Monkey was asking a bunch of questions as we crossed over the Big Mac bridge. He saw the expansion joints and asked what they were. Wanting the young man to be as knowledgeable as possible I explained how the expansion joints moved back and forth. I emphasized the lesson by joining my fingers on each hand and moving them back and forth, as the expansion joints will.

Yoop squeaked something about keeping hands on the steering wheel. I glanced over to her and for the sake of saving the dashboard from permanent finger marks from her hands, I put my hands back on the wheel. Some people just don’t get the importance of an on the spot lesson. A few hours later the Yoopmobile pulled into Loggers driveway and our fun really began. More to come, hopefully sooner than later.

Fidge and Nimrod School a Horse

We're back at to tell the final story of the Nimrod UP Thanksgiving/ Deer Hunting trip. We left off awhile back reliving the exciting moments of Yoop and Logger putting some classic Yooper smack down on some deer.

The next day Fidge arrived in the great not so white north and it was decided the young man and I would head out to Loggers deer condo. We loaded up and headed toward the woods. We stopped at a small store on the way to load up on Vernors and Snickers. When we turned off the main highway it was game on. Like Clark Kent stepping into the phone booth, Fidge and I instantly had our game faces on. There was no doubt in our minds that we were coming back to Loggers empty handed.

Once we got near the condo, I parked the truck. Fidge gave me a funny look and asked "Aren't you going to drive up to the condo?"

Perplexed by the question it took me a second to realize he wasn't joking. I replied "Are you legs broke?"

"No"

"Then no I ain't driving to the condo. Grab your stuff and let's get walking."

After a debate about whether the heater was needed on a fall like winter evening we settled in for what we knew was going to be a great night for some Nimrod venison collection.

After what seemed like 30 minutes, I checked my clock and confirmed it had been 30 minutes. Nothing yet.

About 5 minutes later I was woken from my slumber by what I first thought was a raccoon scrounging through a garbage can. I slowly opened my eyes and looked toward the sound. I was somewhat relieved, as well as annoyed, to find the noise was Fidge tearing into his Snickers and Vernors. I thought about asking if he could be any noisier but was scared to find out the answer.

"See anything yet?" I whispered.

"Just some birds."

"Me either."

This routine continued on for most of the evening. At one point Fidge woke me asking "Is that a deer on yourside?"

My pulse quickened and I lifted my binos to peek.

"Nope. That's a horse." I replied without thinking.

"I thought they got rid of their horses?" He questioned.

The fog cleared from my head and I remember he was right. I looked again and it was a deer, a huge deer about the size of a small horse. Not one of those miniature toy horses either. It was a small Clydesdale. I looked harder and saw some normal sized deer crossing behind the horse; suddenly the plan to not return empty handed look more reasonable. We only needed the horse and crew to cross the opening, follow a ridge line a couple hundred yards and then pop out for a simple 80 yard rifle shot. Game on!

Fidge and I sat perfectly silent waiting on what was coming next. The anticipation built as time passed. So did the noise level in the condo. Between Fidges flatulence and crinkly snickers wrapper and me waking the dead when I opened the condo window, there was no way horse and friends knew we were there.

Turns out horse and friends had different ideas. They felt it better to parade back and forth across the opening never coming down the ridgeline and therefore never offering us a shot. By dusk Fidge and I counted about 15 deer. Were they the same ones, taking turns walking the cat walk? Who knows? We didn't return empty either. We brought the trash from the condo back to Loggers. Don't want those pesky raccoon rifling through the trash.

Check back soon for the belated finale with Nimrods lever action bowhunt!

Easter bunny delivers!

Hope you don't mind a quickie. Life is rolling on and on here at the Nimrod Ranch.

Turns out with the selling of the Heep and me being forced into driving the Turse has forced me into a corner. The lil ol boat Monkey and I used on our excursions to the numerous small lakes around the ranch doesn't fit on top of the Turse.

So I set out on a short journey and the other night the Easter Bunny delivered our new vessel. A 15 foot canoe. We have plans for her maiden voyage and she is yet unnamed.

I am open to any idears for names for her. Shes not the sleekest boat in the water, but a pretty green with three seats. If you have an idear post a comment or post something to our Facebook Page. While your there click on "Like."

Oh by the way, the Easter Bunny bringing the vessel home was more than a cliche... check out Yoops Bunny Wagon!

Belated 2010 Nimrod UP Thanksgiving/Deer Hunting Trip

Yet again the Nimrod Crew made the journey to Michigan's north land. Thanksgiving, family and of course UP deer hunting. This year wasn't much different than years in the past. We recently unloaded the Shaggin Wagon onto an unsuspecting fella who unloaded a newer but beat up Turse onto us. All round everyone got the shaft, so all is good. We were presently surprised at how well the ol Turse ran and considering we nearly doubled the gas mileage over the sled or Shaggin Wagon. We will leave it at that and will not compare the cargo space or comfort.

Nimrod had to work most the evening before the trip. Yoop put the youngin's in bed like normal and the plan was to wake them just prior to pointing the Turse north. When I got home I quietly started loading the Turse with the gear a crew of 4 was going to need for a week long trip to the north land. Well... Yoop did most the packing and I think we could have made it a few more weeks if we had to.

After carrying the third bag to the Turse, Yoop and Munda came stumbling out to see what was going on. Munda wasn't nearly as cheerful as she usually is in the morning. Maybe because it was the middle of the night, not morning. Yoop helped me finish the loading as she also tended to Munda. Once we were about ready to roll I went and shook Monkeys cage.

Yoop had told me that he didn't want to go to bed last night, he wanted to leave for the north woods right then. He got pretty upset when she said they had to wait for Nimrod to get home. Smart boy.

As I rattled his cage he acted all grumpy and didn't want to wake up. I told him Yoop told me how he wanted to leave last night and now was the time to go, he still grumbled but with a grin on his face.

Once the crew was drained and loaded up we set the compass north and left the Ranch. The trip was nice. I have always preferred traveling during the night. There is less traffic on the roads and no blinding sun to deal with. Turns out we were traveling at near a full moon, and on a nearly cloudless night. the moon was about as bright as the sun. I had to have the sun visor turned on the side window to keep the moon light out of my eyes.

After a bright but uneventful trip, we arrived at Loggers ranch mid morning. Logger was just returning from a morning hunting trip. Although his truck was empty, the anticipation was high. We mingled around for awhile, unloaded the Turse. At some point I succumb to the sleep monster for a few hours. Yoop and Logger went for an evening sit and again came back with an empty truck.

I bet I have mentioned before that Nimrod isn't a fan of mornings. Not much good usually comes from them anyway, so why submit to the pain of rising before the sun and dealing with the entire day? Its much easier to stay in bed and get up later- at least you only have to deal with a portion of the day.

The next few days went the same. Yoop and Logger would head out before daylight. Evenings trips were me and either Yoop or Logger. Most days nothing was seen. What deer were seen were too far away to drag back from the neighboring property.

A few days into the trip, Yoop and Logger surprised us all by coming home with something in the truck. Turns out they decided to relive old times with Yoop pulling the trigger on what she thought was a doe and Logger connecting on a small buck.

Yoops deer was a cute lil fella. Small devil horns that barely stuck out over the hair on the top of his head. Yoop and Logger have about an eon of combined hunting experience. So how could they both miss the miniature head gear this guy wore? I asked them and they both claimed innocence, repeatedly stating they had watched her/him feed for several minutes, all the while assessing her fitness for the freezer. After determining she would fit well in the Nimrod freezer, Yoop did her thing.

Not until did they get up to her/him did they realize she was he. Button bucks are widely known to be yearly deer, however when the DNR checked in Devil horns, they aged him at 18 months. Further badgering of Yoop and Logger on their obvious over site of the massive antlers this deer wore, found an obvious answer... they think someone some how hid the horns from their view, and then uncovered them before the reached the fallen beast.

I laughed at them, spouting that only happens to me.

Stay tuned for the next entry, where Nimrod and Fidge hit the woods, Nimrod goes bowhunting with a 30-30 and the finale of the Nimrod deer season.

The Itch

Over the past few days a lot of people have asked me about the Nimrod Clans UP Deer Hunting trip. Both people thought it would be a great way to get over my recent writing block. Right after our return from the Great (Not So) White north, I had started to pen the days of the adventure. Each time I went back to the story I would get a rash and a bad twitch.

Since the physical reaction to a story was not very fun, I just avoided it completely. I went back often working to complete the deer hunt entry, at least until the rash and shivers started again. A time or two I even tried to start a new entry. Which worked for about a paragraph longer, yet still ended with in a shivering pile of itchy Nimrod.

After a month of this vicious cycle, I thought hard about giving up on the Diaries. I mean it was like having target panic, but not being able to practice to get over it. I felt like a rooster with no hens. A spring Gobbler with only other Gobblers to chase. A rutting buck without trees to rub against. A spawning bluegill with no sandy flat. Why keep something that caused me such heartache anytime I approached it? Ol Nimrod is a glutton but everyone has a breaking point.

On the brink of dropping the Nimrod Diaries hotcake, I decided to give it one more night of thought. The next evening was spent, mostly, on the thinking chairs at the Nimrod Ranch. I used both chairs, in case one had more mojo than the other. Written materials were also recruited to assist in solving the problem, especially since the mail lady delivered the new Orvis, LL Bean and Cabelas Fly Fishing catalogs the day before. In addition, the latest issues of Deer and Deer hunting and Fur, Fish and Game were waiting to be opened.

As the night grew old, and my visits to the thinking chairs grew in number, the cause of my problems began to reveal itself. I dreamed of warming days, flooding creeks, fly fishing, spring turkeys, bedding pan fish. A renewed potential for success danced on my mind. I snapped out of my dream when I realized the roll from the thinking chair was missing. It wasn't empty. It was gone completely. Who would just steal the whole roll, inner cardboard and all?

To save details, I made do and got a new roll. I was still wonder who in the world would steal a whole roll of paper, knowing the chair was still being used? It was about then I noticed the Fur, Fish and Game magazine was missing also. Yoop, Monkey and Munda were all sawing logs and hadn't been up for a few hours. Where in the world is the paper roll and Fur, Fish and Game magazine with the article on winter squirrel hunting???

I gave up and went to the computer to check in at the normal places. Nothing new in the News. Not much going on at the hunting and fishing forums. Checking email, I realized I haven't checked the Nimrod Diaries email account lately. Logging in I found what I expected. A handful of spam and nothing more.

I signed into the Diaries, check some of my favorite blogs, happy to see they are still up and running. Seems the itch is only effecting me. I read back to the early days of the diaries that seem so long ago. I enjoyed the laughs at myself and relished the idea of how the Diaries have grown and matured. Thats my story and I am sticking to it.

After reading the diaries, beginning to end, along with visiting the thinking chair a few more times the source of the Itch started to become clearer. The more I thought about my writing and my most recent deer season the catalyst of my writing block was not wanting to admit how my season had gone. While Nimrod never claims to be that great of a hunter, I have been doing it long enough to be skunked. Let alone skunked two seasons in a row.

Yep.. you read that right. Nimrod has eaten tag soup for two seasons in a row. I have said it and quite honestly I feel much better.

I could easily make excuses, I mean I missed the heart of bow season, sidelined by Yoop and Doc for a bum wrist. Our trip to the Great (not so) White north was a bust. I only saw a few deer, several hundred yards away on a neighboring property. Or how my new job at work has me busier than before. Yet none of that takes away from the fact I failed to connect on a deer, failed to bring meat home for the family. Luckily Yoop didn't get skunked, but I will cover that later.

After all this... I'm back! For better or worse, I am back and hopefully here to stay.

Check back soon as I will cover the 2010 Nimrod Crew UP trip, how I ended my deer season, ice fishing, snow shoeing and maybe a few other fun winter things... that is of course if I get them done before the spring season start up!

Thanks for sticking it out, I hope this year makes it worth your while.

The second of the great fall seasons is now upon us. Michigan's 2010 Firearm Deer season kicked off without a bang. It was more of a snore than a bang- at least for Nimrod.

You may recall last year how we all learned to never ever ever never break a tradition. This year was going to be different. The traditions chair is where I wanted to be. Its where I needed to be. Its where I was going to be.

The previous day I laid out all my gear. Ensuring the transition from Laborer Nimrod, into Nimrod then to Predator Nimrod went as smooth as it never could be. I grabbed the gear and loaded it into the back of the Sled and set off for the family land. Monkey had to attend class at his institute of higher education so the rest of the crew was going to stay at the Nimrod Ranch unless some foolish deer decided to pay me a visit.

The drive went without anything. Really nothing. The Sled doesn't have a radio. I usually listen to an MP3 player with either podcasts from Michigan Outdoor radio shows or an eclectic mix of music. This morning it was nestled in a cup by the home computer. The hum from the tires and rattle of the engine kept me entertained on the ride. Not exciting but who wants to get all excited before the second of the great fall seasons?

The roads were wet from overnight rain. Luckily I had thought ahead and brought a towel to dry the seat of the tradition chair. I would not have to have a short sit with a wet seat. As I drove by baseops I noticed not a creature was stirring, not even Grey Beard. Knitter was already off to drive her yellow dinosaur; shuttling the kids to the institute of higher education. Grey Beard was sawing logs. I thought about honking as I went by but when I tried the horn on the Sled didn't work.

As I pulled into the field at the family land, I was undecided how sloppy the mud was going to be. Since the sled has racing slicks I decided to just go for it and hope for the best. As I gave her gas and hit the dirt, I quickly found out the mud wasn't sloppy and darn near rolled her from the speed.

I parked her in the same spot I have parked for many, many hunts. I shut off the engine, and sat in the quiet for a few minutes. While one would think I was letting the exhaust fumes blow away in the wind, I was really taking a quick nap.

Once I awoke, I decided it was time to get out into the Traditions chair. I stepped out and gather my gear. I took off my boots and stepped into the muddy dirt. Since Nimrod is always thinking, I realized the floor mat from the drivers cockpit of the sled would keep my feet dry and clean. I retrieved the mat and stood on it with my dirty wet stocking feet. As I put on my hunting gear, piece by piece I transformed from Nimrod into Predator Nimrod. Life was good.

A sneaked to the Traditions Chair and found the seat bone dry. How a seat, sitting in the woods with no cover, could be bone dry after a night or rain is beyond me. Not wanting to feel too foolish, I sat on the dry towel anyway. All the while wonder how the seat was dry.

This opening morning was like ones in the past. There was not spectacular sunrise, there was nothing coming alive as the sun rose. It went from night to day. No fanfare, no parades or fireworks. Just the light overcoming the darkness. Morning just became.

Not only was there no fanfare with the coming of the morning. There was no fanfare or fireworks during the time I sat in the Traditions Chair. I heard one faint gun shot at dusk. Nothing more. Only excitement was someone sneaking to his own stand on a neighboring property. It appeared he was coming onto the family land but it was just my sleepy Nimrod eyes playing tricks on me.

Since it was opening morning I had planned to sit for several hours. Ya never know when these sneaky brown ones will decide to come out. Shortly after night became day I woke from a nap and decided it would be best to head toward the Nimrod Ranch. It was quite a drive and I was barely awake. I sneaked back to the Sled and loaded my gear.

The rest of the Second Great Season opener was nothing. Sleep and family stuff. Oh I saw a dear on my way to the ranch. Lil buck out in a picked cornfield eating. Sure enough... this was not a normal Second Great Season opener.

Murph still haunts me.

Ahhh... yes. Finally Ole Nimrod is back in the saddle again. The gimped up wrist is back to 80% and its time to rock and roll. I have two weeks of bow season to catch up on. Unfortunately my time off seems to have left Murph bored out of his minuscule gourd. He is back to his annoying antics... worst I have seen in a few years.

Getting a late start on the season has really set me back. I am fighting to catch up to where the deer are and what they are doing. My brain is still in early season mode even as the weather and deer are firmly into mid-season movements. Didn't think it was going to be as big of a challenge as it is.

As season got closer to Halloween, I got closer to the deer. It was really neat and odd at the same time. First time in a long time, dare I say ever, I was actual doing the right thing, and nearly in the right places to intercept the deer. Considering I rarely find myself at the same place as the deer I am happily astonished. I have not closed the deal, and have since been forced to work to pay the bills, but nonetheless its almost like I know what I am doing this year.

About a week ago, I decided on sneaking out on an evening hunt on some public land not far from the house. I sweet-talked Yoop and she gave me a hall pass for a few hours. I loaded up my gear and set off to the honey hole down the road.

Things had been going so smoothly, I had nary a thought about old Murph. The thoughts I did have were fleeting... mostly thinking not to think about him. As I neared the honey hole, I checked a few nearby parking spaces to see who else was out taking their chances. I smiled when I noticed no one else around. The deer were all mine to not get close to.

While I was gimped up, I had been doing a lot of scouting using aerial and topo maps. Each time I would look at the there were two spots that stuck our like sore thumbs where deer should be, but likely weren't. I was going to check out one of them on this hunt to get a feel of how the deer were using it.

I pulled into my parking space and started the transition from Ole Nimrod to Predator Nimrod. As I opened the sleds rear hatch, I noticed something odd. My bow and quiver were not to be found. As faithful readers of the Diaries, you know how thorough Ole Nimrod is. I never look over the tiniest detail, unless I am in a hurry or there is outside influence.

I hurried back to the Nimrod Ranch. On the way I called Yoop and asked her to look for the missing bow and quiver. Its not too hard to lose, a classic green Fred Bear Kodiak Magnum and quiver with 3 cedar shafts crowned with red stain and fletched with 2 red and 1 white 5 inch feathers. Not something you will drop in the woods and loose.

After checking, Yoop told me they were sitting where I had left them. I quickly let her know there isn't a chance in the world I left them there. I remember very cloudily that I carried them out of the house and put them in the back of the sled. I wonder if they grew legs and arms and sneaked out of the Sled into the house. Or did something else happened?

I didn't have time to figure it out. There were some deer that needed to be hunted and a Nimrod that needed to hunt some deer. I tossed the bow and arrows into the Sled and scouted off to the woods.

As I reached the parking lot entrance, I noticed something I didn't see before. Probably cause it wasn't there. In the middle of the road, about 50 yards past the parking lot was a nice mature doe standing in the middle of the road. I was a bit miffed, as she was walking right toward where I was planning on hunting.

After seeing the sled, she decided to change her plans. She glanced toward me, showed me her middle hoof and then waived her tail good bye.

I geared up and sneaked off into the woods. 20 minutes late and upset about scaring the game way before even stepping foot into the trees. Alas, no worries.. there is more than one deer in them there woods.

I reached the secret spot after tip toeing through the over grown pine tree hedge lines for 15 minutes. Not thinking about how I would have been ready for the doe if someone hadn't taken my bow and quiver out of the Sled; I readied my faithful stool for my sit and I sat. It was then I noticed one of the three legs of my stool were broken. I checked but there was not anything red neck engineering could do to incorrectly repair the offending leg. I snuggled into a small tree and waited. Aside from frustration and incessant harassing, and broken stool nothing more came from that sit.

A few days later, after making a grocery run for the Nimrod Ranch, plans were made for a hunt on the family land. Yoop and Munda were going to wait for Monkey to get off the bus after his day at the institute of higher education and Nimrod was going to run to base ops to get a jump on the hunt. I made a quick stop at base ops, hit the head and then got cruised over to the family land.

After the preceding fiasco, I think I double checked my gear before leaving the ranch. When I got to the woods, and started the transition to Predator Nimrod I had another sinking feeling. You know the feeling, like something is missing and it will ruin your whole day. I finsihed suiting up and grabbed my bow.

You ever have on of those days where you have everything planned out and halfway through realize you forgot something? Me either. But as I grabbed for my bow I realized it was not in the Sled. Fool me once shame on me. Fool me twice and label me a fool for life.

I made the transition back to Ole Nimrod and set back off to base ops. More thana little upset, I was about to throwing in the towel for the nights hunt. I checked my wallet, thinking a stop at the local daddy pop store was in the cards. Finding Yoop had once again raided the money section, the shiny new small game license caught my eye.

The nimrod mind shifted gears. Someone once told me when life gives you lemons, squirt them in the eye of your enemy- so I made it back to base ops, grabbed Grey Beards old 22 rifle and set back off. Mud and I have noticed an a large population of tree rats, and if you recall I have a debt to settle with at least one.

I sneaked loudly into the woods and found a tree. Cleared the leaves from around it and sat down. I loaded up the 22 and waited. And waited. And waited. And waited. After a bit it became clear. Murph had taken all of the tree rats out for a little bow shooting at the Ranch.

Uh oh... not in bow season

Short and sweet this time around. Doc and Yoop have decided the nagging, sharp constant pains in my wrist are forcing me into a hiatus from bow hunting. The gist of it is my wrist is either broken or not working right.

I am still not very happy but when Yoop makes threats that I can't say on here... I know she means business.

So for now, I am gimped up, depressed and stuck wearing a brace... and not shooting or hunting.

Not often I say this but life isn't the greatest right now. But it could be worse. Hope to get out a few times with my camera... oh wait, my zoom lens took a dump to. Life is grand.

Camera hunting with Red

Welcome to the madhouse. Since the last entry, Yoop, Murph and Doc have been in cahoots and succeeding in putting Ole Nimrods bow season on hiatus. Seems they think some minor hand pain that gets progressively worse is a good reason not to shoot a bow. They also don't believe the old adage “If pain is good, extreme pain is extremely good.” Makes me wonder what kind of wimps Americans are turning into.

I was doing my best to not go to see Doc, cause I knew what Doc would say. Yoop made an appointment with Doc and made specific threats to me. I pondered the threat versus going to see Doc. In the end, I felt it was best to give into Yoops demands. I went and surprise, surprise no shooting the bow for a few weeks. Wonderful way to start the bow season.

The following weekend, the Mud crew came out for some early bow season hunt. With Ole Nimrod gimped up... forced on the injured list... taking a hiatus from hunting, however you want to put it I am not able to enjoy fall fully. Since Mud had specifically taken time off to correspond to my weekend off, I felt obligated to participate some how. More on that shortly.

Prior to me being broke, Mud and I had discussed moving our stands to correspond to our current miscalculation of the deer movement for this season. Since Mud is much more of a monkey than I am, he is usually the one to do climbing work. I used my good hand and Mud used his monkey skills.

My stand is in a new bad spot and Muds stand is in a new nearly good spot not far from where I bladed one a few years back. After playing stand switcharoo the ol' wrist was feeling just dandy.

I showed Red how to use the old fashion, non motorized weed whacker and set her off to clear a path to my new bad stand. Checking periodically she was doing great. Winging the cutter back and forth. From a distance she seemed to be enjoying the work.

I did what I could to help Mud finish securing my new bad stand. Once done, we went and checked on Red. I asked her how she was doing. She stopped, leaned on the cutter and stated “this is pretty hard work.” I agreed with her and explained to her I didn't want to bring a power whacker cause of the noise and smell . I left out the part about me forgetting the gas power whacker at the Nimrod Ranch.

Once we were finished we returned to baseops and hung out... me bored out of my mind. Something was on TV, I peeked at my email on the computer.

Finally the clock got close enough that we started to get ready. The game plan for the evening was Mud perching in my new bad stand and Red and I taking Muds pop-in-up blind near Muds nearly good spot stand with my camera with no zoom lens. Great plan.

I loaded everything on my back, I think Red tossed in a garden tub somewhere. Still trying to figure out why when I add one kid to my hunt I quadruple the amount of stuff I bring. Anyone mathemagicians out there please let me know how that works.

We walked with Mud to the corner of the field, we waited a little bit so he could get in the new bad stand. Our thought was if we bumped any deer on our way in they may go to him. Either we didn't or they didn't. Not sure which is the correct answer.

As Red and I stepped off into the thick cover, I began to talk about why I was doing what I was doing. Trying not to touch trees to control scent; not stepping on small sticks and twigs. As we walked I caught myself grabbing trees and stumbling onto numerous sticks. I quickly told mentioned to her, do as I say, not as I do.

Then I asked "How many deer do I shoot?"

She sheepishly replied, "not many." The correct answer even though she appeared uncertain if she should state it. I reassured her that it was correct but since I had been hunting for longer than her, I knew more. She seemed to agree but I had my doubts.

We slowly and not so quietly made our way to the backside of the Family Land. This area is a small ridge that overlooks the east end of the land. There are numerous game trails that cross back and forth.

The evening went well. I whispered Reds ear off about this and that. She spotted 3 different color phases of squirrels. I almost stepped on a tree frog. Not a bad time for two nuts sitting in a camo tent.

As the night crept on, I kept instilling my vast knowledge onto Red. She was soaking it all in one ear and then right out the other. At least she acted like she was listening. As I was talking about looking for parts of the deer, not the whole thing, she said "I think there's one right there."

I replied that it could be, try to move very little and just watch it. If its a deer it will move after a few minutes. About 30 seconds later she said "its still there."

I replied "Ok, has it moved?"

"No."

"Just keep watching."

About 15 minutes later I notice Red still staring the direction of the possible deer. I asked her if it had moved at all and she said "No, I have been watching it since I saw it. Hasn't moved a bit."

Holding in a chuckle, I said "Well just keep scanning the rest of the woods and check on it every few minutes, I bet its not a deer."

As daylight turned into dark, we both spotted a few movements we thought could have been deer. I quietly told Red what I had seen and she said she has seen it also. The movement was in the thickest nastiest cover the Family land has to offer. Ideal bedding area if I do say so myself. I mean if I was a deer I would want to sleep in there.

As the day ended, we both were seeing movement that sure looked like deer. We could never get a clear look at what it was and just as the sun set the movement stopped.

A short time later, I was just about to pack up when Mud called my phone. I turned to Red and asked "Do you think he got one?"

I answered the phone asking if he had seen anything. He said he hadn't and was ready to go. I told him we were packing up and would meet him out at the corner of the field.

I packed and packed and packed and packed and packed. I didn't keep track but I am certain I carried out more than I carried in. Red and I made it out of the wood lot without any incident.

As we meet up with Mud, he asked if we kicked up any deer on the way out. I said no, we were being as quiet as we could be but didn't see anything. Seems as he approached the corner of the field there was a large commotion in the thickest nastiest cover on the family. Turns out Red and I did see something in the thickest nastiest cover on the family land. Too bad whatever it was holed up before we could see it.

All and all it was a great night. Red did awesome, nary a whine or whimper. We had brought a book for her to read in the event a case of severe boredom set in but the book never came out of the bag. I think she was concentrating to much on the cluster of leaves she thought was a deer.

Until next time, keep your feathers dry and heads sharp.

A New Season of Bow Hunting Is Here

Its that time of the year again. The most glorious time of the year. When God was creating times of the year, he set Fall a side and made it his special work. There is nothing about Fall that is not great.

The first relief from the summer heat, the crops stop growing as the they get ready to be harvested. Bear hunting, elk hunting, fall turkey hunting, small game hunting, fall trout and salmon runs. I think I covered it all. Oh wait... I knew I missed something... DEER HUNTING. How could I forget the greatest of the great? At least the greatest of the great we can do on a regular basis in Michigan.

October brings cooler temperatures, colorful leaves, nippy frost covered mornings, and bow hunting. What more could a Nimrod ask for? Besides Mud taking Murph home like he was supposed to, a new sled, a woring tree stand, a large plot of land but I digress.

The hunt is on and I am working. Mostly anyway. I made it out for opening morn, even if briefly. Spent the part of daylight in the woods as night faded into day. Or is it day scared away night? Either way I was there.

You often read how the woods come alive as the sun rises and warms the air. Not this day. It was a clear cool night, and as the sun brightened everything below it, the woods remained quiet. So quiet the only living creatures I saw during my sit was a red tail hawk and a cottontail rabbit.

And no. The Hawk was not eating the rabbit, not that I saw anyway.

Overall it was a great sit. A little short but it was great to be back in the woods with a bow in hand. Was even better since Murph slept in and wasn't nearby to play any of his antics.

I will part with the idea that its on. Oh yea, for certain its on and there are many Nimrod memories waiting to be had in the near future.

Early Season Antics

Short intro... welcome back... lets get to it.

The last few years the DNR has opened a "Early Antlerless Season," commonly referred to as the Early Doe Season. Well, it is unless you shoot a button buck then, you're glad its "Antlerless" not "Doe." The season is 5 days in mid September, before the youth and disabled Veteran hunts.

This season, I am going to be able to go hunting 2 nights out of 5 days. Great percentage there eh? I won't complain, at least I get twice!

First sit came the first night of the season. After Monkey got off the big yellow machine, Yoop got him and Munda ready for the trip to base ops. I was stuck in a boss meeting and after beating our heads together, getting little accomplished I rushed home. Grabbed the Blunderbuss, jumped in the Shagin' Wagon and set off for base ops. Yoop had done a good job, Monkey and Munda were ready to rock when I got home.

We got to baseops, made a quick change and hopped in Gray Beards Green Goblin. Started her up and took of for the family land. Pulled into the muddy, picked cornfield, and thought better about just turning around in the mud. The Green Goblin is a beast, but a 2 wheel drive beast. Grey Beard would not take kindly to me burying it in to the axles in the field, even if his boots never got dirty. So I tender footed it into a safe, solid parking spot.

Started the Nimrod pre-hunt rituals that I had not done in way too long. I fell right into the groove. Took off my boots to put on knee high rubber boots. Then realized my rubber boots were still in the cab of the Green Goblin. I hobbled stocking foot to get them out and put them on. Feet were already wet and muddy though. Grabbed the blunderbuss out of its case then set off for the stand.

This ladder stand was placed late season last year by Mud and I. I remember thoroughly thinking through where I wanted it and why. I was eager to get in and see if my hard work would pay off. Tonight the wind was out of the north west, which is an odd directions, but worked perfectly with the stand. I sat down about 5pm and had only until 7:30pm to hunt. Had to get Monkey home to bed for his day at the institute of higher education.

It was a misty, gloomy, breezy night. The night was uneventful. I did get a visit from the monster squirrel that nearly attacked me last season ( see it here: http://nimroddiaries.blogspot.com/2009/10/2009-bow-opener.html). He didn't realize I was in the tree as he wandered around gathering his nuts.

The next hunt, came the next night. The preparation was identical to the night before. As I scanned back and forth, forth and back, I realized that who ever had placed the ladder stand was a fool. Only had one clear shooting lane, and couldn't easily see the main crossing over the creek. I have a meeting with the fool to discuss his choice in stand placement.

After a few hours of back and forth and forth and back, my eyes were getting tired. Really tired. I decided not to waste a fine night in the woods. I tightened the safety strap and started checking my eye lids for holes. Not finding any, I fell into a trance where I got a cat nap and still maintained uninterrupted vigilance of any approaching deer.

As the sun set, I realized the deer were not playing along. As I watch God's great sunset I came out of the trance and started thinking about food. Yoop had some pizza waiting for me at baseops. Pizza and a cold daddy pop sounded pretty good.. but pizza would have to do.

While the taste of the cold cheese, chewy crust, overly sweet sauce danced in my head, I was nearly knocked out of my stand by a loud, menacing snort. The noise came from behind me and caught me so off guard, I was glad I had tightened by safety strap before the siesta. I slowly turned, expecting to see Murph with a dumb grin on his face, but instead I was greeted to a waving white tail.

Huh.. the deer did want to play... just not under the rules that I had set. I grabbed my blunderbuss, gathered my things and went home. I don't play well when others make the rules.

Fathers Day

Welcome back to the diaries. Spring has quickly turned into summer, wet soggy summer around Nimrod's land. But ya know... some guy wrote a song about rain.. its a good thing.

Since the last adventure into the jungle I have shied away from the creek. Things at work and in life have been keeping the Nimrod clan busy as a one legged mule at a man kicking contest. We have managed a few wild excursions but time and laziness, mainly the later, have prevented me from updating the diaries. Feel free to play mule at the man kicking contest the next time you see me.

First we will discuss the Fathers Day fishing expedition we had. Mud and I conjured up a brilliant idea to take Red and Monkey out for a special trip. There wasn't anything exceptionally special about the trip it just coincided with Fathers Day.

Mud and crew loaded up the Mud machine, SS Mud and all, and headed to baseops. I was stuck working the night before. I had planned to squeeze in as much beauty sleep as I could. Yoop quickly pointed out that no matter how much I got it wouldn't help. With the limitation of having to be at a Cub Scout leader party early evening, I decided to forgo most my beauty sleep. When I got up, I can say with certainty, the lack of beauty sleep didn't hurt. Didn't help either but we won't go there.

We loaded up the Shaggin Wagon and made our way to baseops. Mud and Red were ready when we arrived. Monkey and I weren't. After a pit stop and some sun block for Monkey, we all loaded up in the Mud Machine and set off for the lake.

The SS Mud was following us nicely on the trailer. We got to the lake where the SS Mud made her maiden voyage for us. Mud back her into the channel. He kept going back and back. Soon I feared the Mud Machine would get stuck. I signaled him to stop and man handled her off the trailer into the water, wondering where the 10+ inches of rain we had gotten in the last few weeks had gone.

The SS Mud is a fine vessel. Four bench style seats. Well, three Bench style seats and miniature seat at the bow. Mud was on the bench in the stern. Moving forward Red had the next bench and then Monkey. As you've prolly figured out, I was left crunched on to the miniature seat at the bow.

Mud used the electric motor to get us out of the channel and the gas motor fired right up, this time. We move to a sunken island to the north end of the lake. I helped Monkey ready his pole. While I retired his hook on, I told him to dig into the bucket for a worm.

Since I had worked evenings leading up to this adventures, Monkey and Yoop had collected worms out of the back yard at the Nimrod Ranch. Over a few days they had captured about half of an one gallon ice cream bucket. The worms were housed in thea gallon ice cream bucket, in the Nimrod family fridge until we took them along for the adventure of (to end) their life.

Mud and I found a spot we thought would be good and went to anchor. While the SS Mud is a fine vessel, I blame any accessories on Mud. Anyway we each took our anchor and plopped it in the water. As I was feed the rope down, I heard Mud say “the rope is too short.” Rather I thought I heard him say it. As I got the end of my anchor rope, I turned to him and said “its too deep for your rope.”

“Yea, mine too,” he replied.

“Think your gonna need more rope next time,” I proffered.

He replied with a look fit for a wife mad at her husband.

Just then Monkey squealed that he caught a fish. I coached him to reel it in and a short time later he landed the first fish of the day. A nice perch. A bit on the short side, say three inches long at most, but the boy was as proud as a hen who just laid an egg.

We toured the lake, moving from point to point in search of fish. We kept moving, not cause we wanted to; it was because we couldn't stay in one spot cause of the short anchor ropes. I didn't mind, I only reminded Mud once or ten times.

We approached an area where on the maiden voyage yielded us a nice catch of specs. Red caught nice nice 12 inch bass. That was her first bass ever. She had caught one before but insisted this was the first one ever. We messed back and forth, but the discussion ended with it being her first, but not her first all at the same time.

It was a good day on the lake. Which as always beat a good day at work, or at the mall or doing yard work, or one of many on a long list of things that are less enjoyable than fishing on Fathers day with the kiddos.

Stay tuned for more entries. Yoop played the mule and I really need to finish the summer entries before the fall hunting season kick off.. soon enough Nimrod will be back in the woods, Kabekona (or Kodiak Mag) in hand. Chasing the wily whitetail.

Hand fishing the jungle.

Welcome back.. I hate how Spring comes, ya make grandiose plans and they get interrupted by life. Mainly family but Life in general. Life is to my plans like Murph is to the execution.. not good.

Midday, while Monkey was at his institute of higher education and Yoop and Munda were doing midday girlie things, Ol Nimrod set off for a quick adventure.

We had bunches and bunches of rain over night, to the tune of 3 to inches. Once Lake Nimrod in the front yard soaked in, my mind turned to a small creek nearby. Heavy rain, run off, brook trout... eating the increased amount of food.. oh yea!!

Rushing out the door, I grabbed my swampers and bug spray then set off to the creek. The sled is waiting for repairs; more accurately waiting on me to get around to replacing some parts. So it was the 2 wheel drive monstrosity Yoop has under her ownership. The old Yoopmobile decided to call it quits on us during a trip back from Yooperland. After a long and hard search we found the perfect replacement.

The new beast has everything but the kitchen sink and transfer case and fuel efficient engine and driver side rear door. It does have some very comfy seats, lots of room, neat over head interior running lights, a radio (major improvement for my sanity on that one) and a bed. Yep a bed. Would be the perfect hunting and fishing rig if it had a transfer case, but I will have to be content with a bed instead.

Anyway, I set off from the house in the Shaggin' Wagon. With in a few minutes I was at the parking area of the creek. I looked at the water and realized I should have brought my chest waders not swampers. I grabbed the fly rod, soaked myself in some skeeter dope and set off toward the creek.

The trail is not new, its actually rather old. I think its where the Indians used to park their cars when they came fishing before the white man invaded their land. Yet once I got about a foot into the trail I could barely make it out.. it was a jungle. Spring was certainly here and the warm wet weather had done its work. Everything was green and thick. Nearly impenetrable. I worked my way through the knee high weeds, using the fly rod as a machete.

I searched back and forth for a spot to cast from the shore but there were no places open enough to cast. I checked the depth with my pole and found it a little too deep for my swampers.

I tossed the line out and it quickly got caught is some deadfall. Tried it again and the line wrapped around a branch above me. I took one step into the water to clear the overhead limbs and was reminded about the depth of the water when the cool creek water filled my swampers. I decided a few hand thrown casts would count as a day fishing and gathered my gear then headed back to the Shaggin' Wagon. I reached the beast, took off my swampers and watered a nearby wild flower. Packed up my stuff and called it a day. Two hand tossed casts, that never reached the water, were more than enough to call it a good day fishing.

All Cooped Up

What up cool cats? Hope y'all have been funkin' it on the real. Nimrod has been cooped up quite literally. Yet again I come back, and yet again you come back. You know around here we keep on truckin'.

A few days back Monkey and I were out working in the yard. “Working” by the way, is a covert term I often use to get out of the house and it rarely involves actual work. Yoop and Munda were in the house cause the weather was not great to have the little lady outside.

While working on the swing with Monkey, Yoop come out and said, you really need to build the chicken coop. She had been nagging me for, oh I don't know, about a month to build the coop, but I had just been putting it off.

I said “I know, whats the urgency this time?”

“Number Four was just in the sink.”

“Was the water on?”

“No. Just get it done.”

This conversation has happened before, but something about it this time made me think she really meant it. Maybe because it came with out the normal threat of having me sleep with the chickens all I knew was for my own safety I should really build the coop. It would also be nice to step out of the shower and not have 5 chickens staring at me like they had plans for me once I fell asleep.

Monkey and I finished our work for the night and after everyone went to sleep I put those Reefer drafting skills to work. After a short time I had a rough, very rough sketch of what I was planning on building. Good thing Yoop didn't wake up.. she thought I had drawn the plans a few weeks earlier. Instead I had watch some hunting shows on the DVR. Don't tell her, my personal safety may rest in your ability to keep your mouth shut. Pretty please!

OK enough groveling. The real reason I caved into Yoops demanding demands was I didn't want my Turkey season to be interrupted by messing around with poultry housing.

The next morning I retrieved the required building supplies and started making the poultry Mansion. My building skills are nearly as good as my hunting and fishing skills, so I knew this was going to turn into one of the all time best chicken coops created by mankind. Numbers One thru Five were not going to know what to do with themselves... it was going to be awesome!

The build started out normally. Measure once and cut twice is the adage I learned long ago when building. Even Monkey was in on the action. He would help me measure and then run like a deer who caught whiff of a Nimrod fart when the saw was in my hand. He also contributed by not letting me get too much in a groove, asking repeatedly to be pushed in his swing. Usually as I was getting ready to make a cut, for the second time.

Late afternoon the basic structure of the Mansion was taking shape. It had been hard but miserable work, especially since the weatherguy ordered record high temperatures for the area. I emailed the weatherguy to voice my displeasure over his choice in weather. He responded claiming that I had emailed him asking for the warm weather because chickens had been staring at me in the shower. While the peeping peepers were annoying I would not have hung my laundry out is such a way. Checking my sent messages I was not able to find any I sent him. My brain gears were turning.

Between refills on daddy pops, measuring once and cutting twice and pushing Monkey on his swing I was sweating like a pig heading to the market. The sweat was in my eyes and all over my hands but Ole Nimrod keep on truckin'.

After the frame was built I started putting the Devils fence on the frame. I quickly figured out where this stuff got its name. Its sharp, poking and gets caught on any piece of clothing you get near it. Working the Devils fence around the frame I began to wonder if doing this myself was worth the scrapes and pokes I was getting all over my body. Then I remembered I couldn't trust such an important structure to anyone but myself.

Over all things went well, I only had to measure twice a few times. The only time I sustained any sort of injury was when I was nailing the staples holding the Devils fence to the frame. I was concentrating on getting the fence lined up perfectly and when I started to tap on the staple something bumped be from behind. This caused me to increase the velocity of the swing and tap the tip of my bow hand index finger with the hammer. The blood blister formed instantly and brought back the familiar feeling of pain. Ahhh... blood blisters are good for the soul.

Instantly, after a minute of adult content spewing from my mouth, I turned to see what had bumped me. No one was around. Monkey had gotten bored helping from the swingset and was inside with Yoop and Munda. Both Fido's were also in being lazy in the excruciating heat. One through Five were still cooped up in the can. Weird.

A few more hours of wrestling the Devils fence, I finally finished 90% of the Mansion. It was missing a roof, but I didn't have enough lumber to make one. It will require another trip to the hardware store. I strutted like a spring Gobbler into the house to get Yoop and Monkey. I walked them out, explaining the Mansion was missing its roof but that would be coming tomorrow after yet another trip to the hardware store.

Yoop and Monkey circled the Mansion, checking out all the angles. Monkey squealed his approval and then ran to the swingset. Yoop continued her assessment making a second loop around.

“Its better than the dog house you built while we were in Texas,” she quipped.

“Gee thanks,” I responded knowing the jab wasn't a compliment at all.

Side note on the Texas dog house, I built it the morning of September 11, 2001, after watching my fellow Americans being attacked in NYC. Instead of being square and solid, it turned out more of a rhombus shape and was not overly sturdy. I must add it held up for about three years before old Muttly broke it.

Getting a bit impatient by Yoops hawk like surveillance of the Mansion, I asked “So, what do you think?”

“Not bad, especially for you.”

“So its good once I get the roof boards tomorrow?”

“Sure, but how are we going to get One through Five inside at night?”

“These doors on the back, there are two so you only have to open one to get the eggs once the start laying,” I replied confidently.

“Oh ok. How are we going to feed and water them?” Yoop professed.

“Right... hmmm...” I rambled

How were we going to get in and out to feed and water them? Or put them up for the night away from natures scavengers? I know I would not have over looked such a vital piece of the Mansion during the drafting phase. Brain gears were working overtime now. Weird.

I went and checked out my drawing and found the faint, erased lines of what originally were going to be a side door. How did they get erased? I pulled my pencil from my ear and found no eraser on the end. It wasn't me but then again why would I set myself up for failure?

By this time Yoop, apparently content with smashing my pride in workmanship, had gone to push Monkey and Munda on the swingset. I assessed the problem and grabbed the Devils fence cutters and cut a hole in the fence.

I fashioned up a door frame out of mismatched boards that were all to short. I measured once and cut twice on some small boards for a door. Screwed it all together and hung it on some hinges. Considering it was Nimrod made it turned out surprisingly well. Even swings smoothly. Sometimes even a blind squirrel finds a nut.

The next morning I got the roof boards and put the roof on. After nearly two full days of being cooped up building a coop I was finally done and could fly the coop.

The Mansion was a thing of beauty. I sat back, opened another daddy pop and thought Nimrod may just spend the first night in the Mansion himself...

Hooked on fishin'

Spring has sprung and it seems like summer is here. The first half of the Spring Turkey season is winding down and I am gearing up for the late season. I still have a week before my season starts so I needed to find a way to burn off some energy. Yoop suggested Monkey and I go fishing a little bit at the fishing hole. It sounded like a good idea and he seemed to think so also. Game on.

Monkey and I gathered our fishing stuff, stole the tub of chicken worms and set off to the fishing hole. Surprisingly the heep started right up... guess we weren't the only ones rearing to get out of the house. We made it to the fishing hole in a few minutes, Monkey hoped out of the Heep and ran to the lake. He was about to take a step into the water when I reminded him its not summer and we shouldn't just jump in.

After a few minutes of convincing him that letting him get in the water would get me in hot water with Yoop, he finally gave up and wanted to go fishing. He picked out a nice plump earthworm out of the chicken worm tub. Crazy Yoop has been collecting worms out of the leaf piles behind the house. In her mind the effort is two fold; it will make it easier to find worms to feed the chickens and cheaper than buying worms when Monkey and I go fishing. Gotta love that girl!

I worked Monkeys chosen worm onto his hook, and asked if he wanted to cast it out or if he wanted me too. This is a valid question as he is still working on his casting technique and this was the first time out for the season. He confidently state “I can do it” yanked the pole out of my hand and walked to the water.

When its safe to do so, I like letting people work on there own at learning and perfecting of a skill. So I stepped back and let Monkey do his thing trying to cast the worm out into the lake. At first I expected him to just cast it out half way across the lake using perfect form... he is part Yooper ya know.

As I readied my pole, I watched the young Nimrod out the corner of my eye and he ended up getting my full attention. He readied his rod, took a good stance, wound his body up and spun around in perfect discus form. The worm, hook and bobber ended up on the shore about 20 feet away from us. Not to be deterred he reeled in his line and readied for another attempt.

He again readied his pole, took a good stance, wound his body up and spun around in perfect discus form. This time went a wee bit different than the first. I was looking out into the lake expecting him to place it perfectly along the break where the fish were hanging out on this rather cool windy spring evening. While starring intently at the setting sun, I felt a tap on the back of my shirt. I swatted at it never taking my eyes off suns blinding effects on the lake.

After a few seconds of not seeing the worm, hook and bobber land in the lake, I turned to Monkey and wondered what had happen. His approach and spin seemed to be prefect the second time around. When my eye caught him I realized something was amiss. He had the looked of terror in his eyes.

“Did you hook yourself?” I asked,

“No daddy... I got you!!!”

Instantly, after a few seconds to think what happened, I realized the bump on my back was the chicken worm and hook smacking me after another mis-cast by Monkey.

“Dude.. don't move” I told him.

Turning with his rod while reeling in for another attempt he replies “What?”

“STOP!!!” I squealed, hoping he would comply instantly.

“Daddy, what do you want?” he asked, still turning and reeling.

“Monkey... just stop everything NOW, before you hook Dad instead of a fish.”

“Oh.”

Thinking I finally got his attention I start to carefully move to take the hook out of my shirt. Not one to do thing behind anyone's back, including my own, I quickly realized I was not going to be able to remove the hook while working blindly behind my back.

As I started to take my shirt off, Monkey stated “Dad you can't do that... no one wants to see it.”

“What?” I responded.

“Daddy leave your shirt on, no one wants your shirt off.”

“Its OK, buddy, I have to take it off to get your hook our of my back, or else you won't be able to fish anymore,” I answered, in an attempt to explain the severity of the situation. It didn't seem to help but he put his rod down and walked off to find something to play with near the water.

After I removed the monstrous hook I breathed a sigh of relief. A hair closer and that size 16 hook could have pierced my kidney. But Ole Nimrod is a machine.

We continued fishing until just before dark. Monkey got back in the groove from last year and was making some nice casts. Just before we left I told Monkey the fish must not be hungry tonight.

He replied “No dad, the fish must be sleeping already.”

Oncorhynchus mykiss- the Sequel

During the week following the previous incident I pondered the situation over and over. The three times it came to mind, I still was not able to find an alternative explanation. I hadn't seen or heard from Murph the entire day, so I cautiously ruled him out.

A few days later I made another excursion to the creek. Lessons had been learned from the previous trip and since the creek was empty when I arrived, I started casting like crazy at the dam. I was using the same set up as before, the fancy dancy special steelhead single hook with a bag of eggs.

I found the fast and furious approach at the dam interesting. The water was flowing so fast at the base of the dam, by the time I had the bail on my reel closed, the hook and bait were already flying by me in the water. I wasn't sure how I was supposed to notice a fishing hitting the hook, let alone set the hook if it all occurred before I could close the bail. Nonetheless I kept the pace up, hoping I would learn by fire.

In the middle of the fast and furious session I made a cast somewhat across the current of the creek, just to try something different. As I released the line on the cast the pole felt like it was cast something much heavier than just a simple fancy dancy special steelhead single hook with a bag of eggs. I wondered what had happened. I started to wonder if I had hooked into a small steelie and never noticed and had cast it back out into the water.

As I retrieved the line I watched the rod tip for an indication the monster steelie had taken the ruse of my fancy dancy special steelhead single hook with a bag of eggs as something it wanted to eat. After reeling approximately half the line back in, I noticed the rod tip wasn't where the rod tip was supposed to be. In fact the upper half of my rod was completely missing in action. I wondered where it could have gone, without me noticing. Odd. Again something must be afoot.

Once I had reeled in nearly all the line, part of the question was answered. The top half of my rod was hanging out with my fancy dancy special steelhead single hook with a bag of eggs. Why I am not sure, but it proved again something was afoot... but just what it was remained a mystery. They had spent most of the week hooked together in the back of the sled, so maybe the upper half of the rod missed the fancy dancy special steelhead single hook with a bag of eggs. One thing for certain, I very rarely cast half my rod into the water. Only half dozen, or so, times a season.

After reassembling my rod and doing the fast and furious for a bit longer, I decided to move on to something a little bit slower paced. Time was slowly ticking off the clock of when I needed to pickup Monkey from the institute of higher education, and it was obvious no self respecting steelie was going to be found at the base of the dam, in the strongest current on the creek. I don't blame them, why fight to stay in place when you can lounge in a slow moving hole and chill out for a bit?

The weather on this day was very mild, warm and the sun was shining bright over head. Since steelies are known to have sharp eyes and spook at the slightest hint of danger, from in the water or above, I sneaked around the banks with the highly lacking skills I use to stalk deer.

I carefully approached the hole where the guy “caught” the steelie after I had thoroughly fished the area a week earlier. Looking toward the center of the creek I was surprised by a steelie that was chillin' in the shallow water right near the bank. Our eyes meet at nearly the same time, well actually my eyes met the fishes tail and it burned rubber to get out of dodge.

How had I failed to see the fish before it saw me? My not finely tuned stalking skills should have given me first sight of the fish, not vice versa. What the heck was going on?

I still tossed my fancy dancy special steelhead single hook with a bag of eggs into the creek, thinking maybe his buddy was hungover after a long night at the bar or wasn't quite as astute as Mr. Steelie. It didn't work out. I fished for a while longer, never hooking into, or even seeing another steelie.

As I worked my way back out to the sled, I come across another guy fishing on the opposite side of the bank where I had spooked Mr. Steelie. He seemed to be concentrating on something in the water. I offered the obligatory wave and moved on. I checked the area around where Mr. Steelie had been hanging out and noticed a second set of footprints, aside from mine. The print looked familiar. I made a mental note of the print and went on my way.

After returning to Nimrod Ranch, I noticed boot prints in the dirt of the drive. I checked them against the mental picture I had taken at the creek. Sure enough they matched and no they weren't mine. Being the creek is only about a mile from Nimrod Ranch, I bet Murph got off his lazy behind and walked over there to try and cover his tracks. The finger prints from the upper half of my fishing rod are still being analyzed but I don't think there is any secret of what the results will be.

The spring run of Oncorhynchus mykiss is about to peak and you can bet Nimrod will keep at 'er. One of these years I may just luck into one and be able to share a picture.