Cinco de Mayo... A day late

In lieu of Cinco de Mayo yesterday, we decided to make some salmon tacos from the fresh coho caught over the weekend (Thanks Eric).

Simple process really, cut skinless salmon into strips, then lightly sprinkle with salt, pepper, chili powder and cumin if you choose. Pan sear both sides in some olive oil. 

Lauren made a jicama cucumber slaw which formed a bed of flavor on which to lay the salmon. The jicama and cucumber were cut julienne, and tossed with fresh lime juice, salt & pepper to taste and of course fresh chopped cilantro.  The tacos were  finished with a spoonful of avocado crema, whipped together from avocado, sour cream, a squeeze of fresh lime juice, salt and pepper to taste. The photo shows flour tortillas, I prefer corn, or for all you gluten hating hipsters out there, use a lettuce wrap. Enjoy and felize Cinco de Mayo putos!

Lake Michigan report

I received a text from Eric Friday evening instructing me to meet at the launch at 5:15AM...we ride at dawn. Actually, an hour before dawn, but you get the point. Excited to fish open water after a long cold winter, I did just as I was told. The target on this morning would be coho, who's early presence in the area had been rumored of. These fish winter in the Southern most reaches of Lake Michigan, beginning their migration North in the spring. They are very aggressive fish and arguably the best tasting fish in the lake. With coho being this far North so early, they would be sure to make for specimens of perfect eating size.

The three of us, (Eric the Doc and myself) motored into the dark and began setting lines. All 8 lines were in the water 15 minutes prior to first light. Not bad considering I mostly pointed the flashlight while the Doctor set his rigs and Eric piloted the boat.

 The sun began to burn above the horizon. For a few moments, it's as if  there is a fire burning on the surface of the water.

My first open water fish of the season, is this healthy little brown trout.

 Coho salmon, perfect eater size

To add to the fun you get a shot at big browns like these. They are fun to catch and release. Not to mention in this fishery you have a real chance at a world record. Two current world records for brown trout are out of Lake Michigan. Nice fish Eric. 

Back to the docks before noon, we reminisce of our recent experience as we tally up the fish. 7 coho made it to the cooler along with some of the quality browns. We had a first time quad, with a fifth fish banging one of the dipsy lines. The three of us struggled to battle our fish, while netting the 4th. Of the 4 fish that were hooked Eric and the Doc landed 3 while mine broke me off. We never got to set the hook on the 5th. Needless to say, this was an excellent day on the water. Tonight on the menu: Glazed coho salmon with roasted vegetables. The smoker should be expecting visit soon.

Fall on Lake Michigan

Eric and the Doctor invited me along to try our luck out on the big pond this morning. With a steady west wind, the water was calm as glass. We motored in under the cover of darkness. The full moon lit our way until sunrise. 

Fishing was slow, but I did manage to catch myself a rainbow for lunch and I got a few shots of the sun rising over the water. 

Success

This blog has been severely lacking in the posting department lately. My lack of attendance can been attributed to my recent time spent in the woods in search of Whitetail Deer.

I have spent some beautiful mornings watching the sunrise, as well as some peaceful evenings watching it set. I have seen many deer so far this fall. Unfortunately for this buck,  I have grown tired of passing on deer and eating my tags.

On this particular evening, I had only been on stand for 20 minutes. I was settled in and enjoying the fall colors and smells. The peace was broken when he came bounding into my stand location, panting and excited. He stopped to catch his breath directly under my feet. This moment presented an opportunity you don't get often. He was as close to me as I was off the ground. The deer had no idea of my presence directly above. I reached for my bow and in one movement, slowly lifted it from the hanger as I drew back. I settled my pin behind his shoulder, took a moment, then slipped an arrow into his back and watched him bound into the swamp. Due to the angle of my shot, the arrow did not exit the other side of his body. It remained buried in his lungs, I was confident in my arrow placement.

I sat in my stand for a short while longer, allowing the deer to expire undisturbed. After what seemed like an eternity, I lowered my bow to the forest floor and quietly began my decent. As I followed the route he took into the swamp, my excitement quickly turned into anxiety and worry. I could not find a drop of blood. With the arrow still in his body, blood would be unable to escape from an exit wound. I knew this deer would be difficult to track.

 I called my good friend to tell him about what had unfolded. Being a much more experienced hunter than I, he advised me to bring my tree stand and whatever gear I didn't need to track the deer back to my truck. Once I had done that I was to go back to the last place I saw the deer and start to follow whatever sign I could find. He was on his way to help.

Taking the long way back to my vehicle trying my best not to disturb the woods while exiting quietly I began thinking the worst. I tormented myself with thoughts of not finding this deer. I turned up the narrow footpath towards where I had parked when, unbelievably to my greatest surprise and relief, there, 30 yards from my vehicle was a large blob of fresh bubbly bright blood. I couldn't believe I could be so lucky to have found blood in this location. After the shot, the deer had made a B-line across the swamp directly to my vehicle, only changing direction when he laid eyes on it. With a smile on my face, and a new light on the scenario, I dropped my gear off and began to follow his trail.


My friend arrived shortly after my discovery. His Uncle, who was also in the woods that evening, was nearby and came to assist in the tracking of the deer. The blood trail was obvious in some places, while at others it would dry up and leave us scratching our heads. We had to think like a wounded deer. Eventually we would pick up the trail and move further toward his final resting place. We searched the hardwoods, up a ridge and down again, until we found him. He had sought water, as wounded deer often do. He was floating in a grassy bog about 15 yards out. I slogged out in the knee deep water to retrieve him. Relieved to have found him, I grasped his antler and pulled him through the swamp grass to dry land. Now, the real work begins.

If it weren't for my friend and his Uncle, I may have never found this deer. Their combined experience and good advice led me to him. I can't speak enough about the generosity and camaraderie of these people. The whole process is an emotional roller coaster. It isn't remorse, but sadness I felt for taking the life of this creature. I know this is only normal. On top of that, pile anxiety, worry, happiness, excitement, the list goes on. These feelings all make for an emotional cocktail that having friends along with you while you attempt to digest, is not only helpful but necessary. True friends and good hunters alike have taught me important lessons like this one. I know that when I get a call and it is a hunter in need of a hand, I will be there, just like these guys were for me. Remembering to choose well when faced with these types of decisions not only earns us the trust, respect, and loyalty of our peers, it might also earn us a treat for our freezer too.

Sausage Fest

This week fishing opportunities have been limited. Cold weather, scattered rain and wind have all added up to me needing to keep myself occupied in other ways. I know I could tie flies, or start wrapping another rod, but with summer approaching, camping, grilling and tailgating with friends and family, I decided to put my time to use in other ways. 

 Recently a very good friend of mine gave me a whole quarter of a deer which he hadn't used yet. It was just sitting in his freezer from this past November. He offered it to me and well, an offer so generous as this could not be passed up. I took the venison, removed the main cuts from the meat, saving them for a later use and turned the rest into delicious sausages. 

Venison Bratwurst coils

All linked up

Venison Potato Sausage

Now, I know this is supposed to be a fishing blog, but I am sure some of you out there like to hunt, some of you may like to cook. So in many ways, I feel it is relevant. Hunting and fishing for food is very close to my heart for many reasons. And I am sure it is near and dear to yours as well. I feel it is important that we understand where our food comes from. Fresh sausage like this is all natural. It is free of preservatives and ingredients like high fructose corn syrup and other food modifiers which I can't pronounce the names of let alone attempt to spell. I used choice cuts to make this sausage. Cuts taken from the epitome of grass fed, organic, free range. I know where this animal was killed and how. I can share it with family and friends and feel good about providing people with healthy sustainable food. 

Spring Turkey Hunt

My spring turkey hunt ended almost as quickly as it began. Shooting light was 5:15 and my tag was filled at 6AM. 

As I arrived at my spot it was immediately game on. I had what sounded to be 3 Toms  gobbling a few hundred yards ahead of me in the swamp bottom. I knew these boys had just flown down from their roost and I needed to be the first hen they heard. I called out to the Toms and for a while everything seemed to be working as planned. Suddenly I was cut off by a group of hens. They did not sound happy with my calling and quickly interrupted my love songs to the group of Toms. As the hens cackled over me, they intercepted my toms, leaving me high and dry. The woods were still. 

So I changed my plan up a bit. Just as I was about to start running and gunning, another Tom called out from behind me. He sounded pretty far off, so I figured he would play well into my run and gun tactics. But before I could even start moving, he sounded off again, but this time he was closer.  It seemed as though this Tom was making a fashionably late entrance to the party. So rather than moving towards him and risking being spotted I moved closer by only about 20 yards, laid on my side and propped the 12ga in the crotch of a tree and waited for his gobble again. Sure enough, he was there, so I called back to him gently. We called back and forth a few times, I would leave him hanging and wait for a second gobble just to keep him interested. But suddenly things got quiet again. I knew this meant one of two things. Either he lost interest and found another hen, or he was on his way. Thankfully it was the latter. As I gently purred and clucked on my slate, he belted out a loud gobble and I realized he was 20 yards over my opposite shoulder. This wily ol' Tom managed to sneak up on me without me noticing. I panicked as he strutted next to me. Thankfully his strut led him behind a small tree. I took advantage of this small window and swung the barrel of my shotgun over to his direction. In less than a moment he popped out on the other side of the tree none the wiser and as he broke out of his strut I lined up my shot and squeezed the trigger. Down he went. As I approached my kill, I was excited to find a double beard. I took a moment to catch my breath, thank him for sacrificing his life, admired his beauty. I tagged his leg and carried him 7/10ths of a mile back to my truck, sun in my face and a smile stretching from ear to ear. A great day, and a great hunt.

It's sort of bitter sweet tagging out in the first hour of your season. I am thankful to have had a successful hunt on such a gorgeous morning. You couldn't ask for a more perfect outcome. Now I have a bird in the freezer and a week to help my friends call birds.

 Double bearded Tom

Still wet from the swamp

Now I guess it's time to focus on the approaching game fishing season.