Kickin Northern Minnesota Duck

Ingredients:
                  1.  For this recipe it is recommended to have 5 ducks preferably mallard.
                  2. Water Chestnuts (2) cans
                  3.  Jalapenos (1) can "fresh are better but it can be easier to have cans out hunting"
                  4.  2 lbs of thick bacon
                  5.  Worcestershire sauce (2) bottles
                  6.  Soy Sauce  (2) bottles
                  7.  Perdue chicken seasoning
                  7.  skewer sticks
                  8.  Charcoal

Directions:

Slice duck breasts to 1/2" thick
cut bacon into half lengths
stack one of each, the duck, chestnuts, and jalapeno together and wrap with a half piece of bacon

slide onto skewers, sprinkle with seasoning and lay them into the bath or soy and Worcestershire sauce

marinade for a couple hours  then layover charcoal grill and ENJOY!!!

Good Friday

Why The Fall is the Best Season!

The time is 4 P.M. it is Thursday October 27th and My boss is holding me up, from being on the road to Esmond, ND.  As each year turns there are always a few planned adventures with the guys and none more important than the other but I am itching for some duck hunting as it has been almost a year since the last duck genocide.  My boss reluctantly allows me to leave a half hour early, I head to my house to meet up  with my brother "Nolan", quickly throw everything in my truck and we are off.  Two hours and forty five

minutes later we're already in Fargo, that's record time, but we still had 3 and some change to go.  By the time we get to camp its a hair past mid-night but with all the excitement of hunting ahead of us we are not tired.  The guys at camp are telling stories about there week and scheming for the next couple days.  Time is flying, it's already three in the morning when I look at my phone and we decide if we go to sleep now we won't wake up at five, instead we gather up gear and organize for the morning hunt.  Its a dark morning and we aren't as organized as we thought.
Set up happens on a blue bill slough and shortly after the sun is cresting over the skyline.  There are Plenty of early flying bird but by the time legal shooting comes there aren't many birds.  A bit of a disappointing morning but we stick it out for a couple hours with just a few attempts to shoot.  I am bored with the situation and decide to sneak the edge and kick up birds for the other guys.  The walk is slow, constantly my body is bent in a L shape as I am trying my best to be lower than the weed line.  There is a flock of redhead ducks nestled into the weed on the far end and I fear they are catching on to me so in desperation I blast off a shot kicking the ducks towards our group.  Holy Shit!! it actually works the other guys get a few shots off and knock down two ducks from the flock and we are starting to have a glimpse of luck.  As I circle the back side of the large slough more ducks attempt to land but once again I pepper them with steel shot and send them towards the other guys.  A couple more blasts and a couple more ducks.  By now it's nearing 9:30 A.M. which is late in a duck hunters world for sitting in one lousy spot.  We pack up the decoys and head into town for some lunch.  In Esmond there isn't much and just about everything is supported by the locals, we stick out like a sore thumb in their little town.  The time now is 11:10 and some of the guys were hoping for breakfast but they stop serving at 11:00 and there is no exception with these bubushkas.  With a little grief for the server we all get meals and satisfy our hunger.

Then night is spent scouting rather than hunting as we have come to realize our usual spots aren't producing the way we had hoped and we make a plan to rendezvous at the local Esmond bar to discus our findings.  I don't know how much we solved for hunting purposes but a good time was had by all.  Some even might have had too good of a time.  Actually we all had too good of a time, getting up the next morning was more than just a struggle it took a little self motivating and realization that I only get out there a couple times a year at best.  This morning camp looks barren not a sole moving about and with hardly and attempt to wake up the  zombies, Nolan and I headed out looking for a kill.  Just 10 miles from camp there is a small slough tucked away by hills surrounding all sides.  Looks like a good spot to try.  Waddling towards our spot with my ammo, decoys, and gun the slough appears to lift as green heads start their ascent away from us.  Excited we quickly set up and find a hiding spot among the cat tails, there is no where to sit, we stand in the muck and set the ammo bag on a near by muskrat home.  Minutes into our wait nolan tells me there are three greens setting there wings towards our decoys.  We sit still then thrust forward siting in the ducks as they become in range of  our 870's BAM!!! three shots ring out.  Damn only one duck down, the one Nolan shot, I immediately tell him that I swear I shot the other one and swing my eyes back to the remaining two duck and watch as the hen      mallard fall from the sky a couple hundred yards from the original strike.  The entire morning is a good hunt, constantly, green heads would drop down to our decoys for us to send them back to their maker.  By 10:00 A.M. the hunting had slowed down and we decide to head for some much needed lunch.  As we pack our gear we both can't help but grin as we had a good hunt and know the other guys are still in a coma.

Mid-day hunting for ducks can be a rough road to go down, we decide to spend this time driving around scouting and exploring.  There wasn't much for hunting in the places we drove but it's always fun to get to know the land better.  After a couple hours it is time to get ready for the next hunt, with the success that we had in the morning it is decided that everyone in camp is going to hunt that hole.  It wasn't a big enough body for everyone to hunt but we did it anyways, one of the best parts of duck hunting is the ability to bullshit and move without it ruining your hunting so this was fine.   We set up a small spread of mallards and hunker down,  it was a bit  of  a slow hunt, maybe those ducks were a little wiser because of what happened that morning but regardless it was fun.

That night was spent supporting the local economy at the Esmond Bar, since we didn't have much left for food at camp thanks to the hunting dog.  A good time was had by all and the locals told us all about the current hunting situation and unfortunately it wasn't in our favor as the local birds had left and the northern birds hadn't made it down that far impart to the recent warm weather.  With this news it was decided to do some more supporting of the local economy.  Even with it being the Esmond bar Halloween party most of us are tired and  ready to get back to camp.  Ah, I actually rested my head down in a bed that night and for the first time in three nights had a decent nights rest.

Rejuvinated by daylight, we slap on our waders for our last day of hunting, as the locals had predicted it is a slow morning but we don't give up easily.  After a couple birds down it is decided that we are going to be best off by jumping ponds and that's exactly what we did for a couple hours,  it was a success as we shot a ring-neck, redhead, a diver, mallard, and one really stupid sharp tail grouse that thought it was invisible sitting on a hay bail.

By the time the remaining three of us that went out to jump ponds get back camp is clear and everyone is gone.  Its tough to leave when it feels like you just arrived and as I leave every year I am sad to go back home so soon but there might still be time for one more trip this year and I know there is always next year.

Duck Stash!!!
     

Fishing the Brule

Its been a long time since I hit the blog but it's time to get back at it.  I didn't manage to take any photos from last weekends trip to the Brule River but I intend on making it back up there for some quality mid-west fly-fishing.  For anyone who likes to test the slack waters but thinks there aren't many good spots to go in this region think again.

I lived in Duluth For two plus years and had no idea the gems the area had to offer this time of year.  As the fall weather creeps closer and closer so does quality fly-fishing on the Brule River.  This river has a wide variety; brook trout, brown trout, steel head, king salmon, and more, all that need to happen is for the conditions to be right and you may be fishing elbow to elbow out there, as the locals know all to well what the river has to offer.  I'm going to keep this one short as I want to tell what kind of fish can be caught rather than just talk it up without any photos.  Just know there are places hidden right here in the lake states.

Luke Bryan is a BOSS!

Proof that we actually caught a fish while fly fishing in Duluth

The top two photos are of the same steel head, caught by Seth.  I didn't have any luck, but it was a good experience with a different style of fishing, as I have fished for; bass, walleye, and pike for most of my life.  I find fly fishing to be extremely enjoyable as you are in constant action and the more skill you have really pays off. 

Back Home After a Glorious Duluth Weekend!

8:00 A.M. Saturday rolls around, my phones ringing and I have a call from my friend Seth.  He is on his way up from the Minneapolis area and wants to know if its raining.  I take a quick peak outside and it looks like we might have got a little bit but its not raining at the moment, so I tell him no.  It looks like the weather might be nice to us, on a rare day of going fly-fishing with friends.  A few minutes after 8:30 A.M. Seth and his girlfriend Audrey are at the door.  We hadn't seen each other in a long time so I give Seth a strong hand shake with a pat on the back and Audrey a hug.  We are waiting for one more, Donnie, so we snack on some  chocolate and blue berry muffins Seth baked and make small talk about fishing and what everyone's been up to.  Soon Donnie arrives and we throw our gear into his Jimmy and off we go.

We know the steel head move north as the season gets later but this has been a cold spring and the fish are still around close to Duluth.  We made a pit stop by the French River because there is a spawning area that is illegal to fish and the fish are there in copious amounts.  The reason for stopping was to see how many were still in the river, we were in luck the rivers still loaded with Steelies, but from spending weeks in the river banging against rocks, logs, and one another they are becoming a dark ugly color and appear to be deteriorating.

A short jaunt up the North Shore is Betty's pies a great spot to stop for a bite, but we weren't there for that as it is located right next to the Stewart River, which we thought would give us the best chance to lay into some steelies.  Seth and Donnie had fished the river the year before so they already had a few spots picked out.  A few miles short of the river rain drops start to pepper the wind shield, a little rain wasn't about to dampen our spirits.  We slapped on our waders, set up our fly-rods, and made sure we were carrying the right back up lures, and off we went up the river.  There was no shortage of fishermen, so we had to follow the fishermen code and pass up on the first pool that produced last year as we didn't want to be those guys. 

Getting across the river was no walk in the park, the river was high and we needed to cross a section with fast moving rapids and a steep rock wall.  One after the other we cautiously climbed down the side and handed each other our rods, part two actually getting across the waist high rapids without filling our waders.  Sounds easy enough well it wasn't hunting waders are pretty buoyant and like to float from underneath a guy if he isn't careful.  We moved slowly and successfully, no one went swimming.  Roughly a quarter mile further up the river was the second pool they had in mind and we were in luck, no one was fishing our spot. 

All of us were casting yarn or a lure made of yarn to imitate an egg as that's what their diet is during this part of the season.  We each took a spot and repeatedly whipped our lures over every inch of the raging river.  With a late start to the day most of our casts were unsuccessful, catching rocks and branches.  And as the mid-day wore on, my fingers got cold.  I wasn't properly dressed, I had no gloves, I was wearing a ball cap and my jacket didn't have a hood and was only water retardant.  For fishing with yarn a special knot called a snell knot is used and with cold hands I was no longer able to get close to tying it.  I had to rely on Donnie, the knot master to help me or I would have had to retie my line all the time. 

11:30 A.M. I'm fumbling with my line trying to get reset, after a fight with a rock for a good five minutes when bam! got one! yells Seth.  Donnie and I quickly set our rods to the side and observe Seth as he gracefully plays the steelie, he tells me, "grab the net" I do as I'm told and step shin deep in the water and try to net the Houdini of fish.  This fish wasn't having any part of the net, I had his head and half his body in when he decided it wasn't going down like this, it shot out of the net and I chased and damn near went face first into the water.  Seth's reel was buzzing and the fight was back on.  After another couple minutes the fish was worn out and In Seth's grip.  A nice steelie roughly 25'' in length and beautiful in color.  I snapped a few pics with Seth's camera so I can prove it's not one of those fishing stories, but I am going to wait till the weekend for the pics as Seth is a busy man. 

For the most part we practice catch and release and on this day it was no different, after a couple photos and a bit of marveling at the creature Seth placed it in the stream and gave it a little fish CPR to make sure it would swim off.  On with our day, a half hour after the catch another friend, Kyle, joined up with us and we all went back to snagging trees and catching rocks.  After a couple hours of no fish and lots of rain we had enough of the Stewart River for the day and headed to the trucks.  Its amazing how great a; rainy, unsuccessful day of fishing can be, we sat on Kyle's tail gate, Wild Cat in hand, getting dumped on, and it was awesome.   It was my first experience fly-fishing on the North Shore and miraculously I'm addicted.