Westward Bound - Pheasants, Quail, and Waterfowl - 2016

Hi folks,

This year our annual trip to South Dakota was delayed until early December because of Nolan's high school football team making the playoffs. Having never been out west this late in the year, it would prove both a blessing and a curse.  Nevertheless, this trip was again full of the memory making moments, that drives us to make this journey each year.

South Dakota - ROOSTER!

We blasted off early on December 2nd and made the drive straight through.  As soon as we crossed over the SD line we located the nearest public hunting area and stopped for a quick evening hunt to let the pup-dogs blow off a little steam just before dark.  Colt had a nice point on a hen pheasant, but nothing shootable.  So we finished the last 250 miles of the trip in South Dakota and arrived at the Warrier Inn (An excellent Hunting hotel, but certainly not a 5-star establishment) in Winner late that night. For the next three days, we hunted some familiar farms that we have hunted in the past. The first day we hunted in the town of Winner at Mr. Schwinlers and we quickly learned that late season hunting is not the same as early season hunting. All the dumb birds are already dead now leaving us only the older and more educated (previously shot at) birds to pursue. (Quick fact: More than 1 million roosters are harvested each year in SD) Colt and Remi handled the birds really well but struggled to find the numbers of birds we typically find early in the season.  (I did scrape up a limit of roosters that day, but was the only one to put any birds in my game bag) On day 2 we returned to Mr. Schwinlers for a couple hours in the morning and then onto the "Ideal Pheasant Farm" which belongs to our good friend Bobby Daniels.  The hunting was much better day two and Nolan and I both got our South Dakota Limit on the same day. He actually scored his 3 plus one extra towards our group limit (Which is legal in SD).  I shot another 3 birds, and Luke put 2 in the bag.  On Day 3 we headed to another farm down in Carter SD. This would prove to be our toughest day of hunting so far, with the temperature plummeting into the teens and the wind kicking up to 30-40 mph. Now that is cold, I'm telling you!  Nolan would have the only success on this day, scoring one lone rooster.  After we finished hunting, we gave Gary (The Farmer) a hand unloading his new 2000bs gun safe, and in return, we hunted for free that day. (Which was good since we only got the 1 bird)

As we wrapped up our hunt that day and unloaded the safe A large snow storm and cold snap (sub zero temps) was moving in quickly, so rather than fight it the rest of the week. We packed up and headed south for better weather. We dropped down into Kansas, another state that was on my list of places to go hunt. With a reputation of being rich with Pheasants, quail, and waterfowl this provided a great opportunity for some new experiences.  

Kansas - (well this  was new)

While driving through, Kansas looks quite a lot like South Dakota, but it's not until you step into the field that you can tell the grasses get much taller because of the longer growing season.  Sand Burrs, thistles, and cockleburrs are prevalent which the dogs agree are not much fun and there are a lot more trees than SD (which lends itself to that Quail population).  With no prior experience hunting in Kansas, on the first day we set off into the public Walk-In hunting areas.  We spent a lot of the first day in Milo, and CRP but again struggled to find birds.  We were sitting in the truck watching Dad attempting to sneak up a 2 track on some unsuspecting mallards in some flooded milo in one of the hunting areas when Luke, Nolan and I saw a rooster fly across the road and into a field.  We pulled into the end of the field and jumped out of the truck. I looked up into the field to see that it was a sea of thistle and cockleburrs (No wonder that bird headed in there).  Reluctantly, I got my pride and joy out of the truck (Remi) to go look for that rooster. It seemed nearly impassable without damage for a dog, but Remi was undeterred.  100' into that field she locked up tight and I scored my first Kansas roster.  Remi carefully navigated the retrieve through the mine field. This would prove to be our only success of that day.

Covey Rise - 

While hunting in Kansas one of the many things I was excited to get into was wild quail,  I had not seen a wild covey of quail since I was a kid and none of my dogs had ever encountered one either. (Loads of training quail but no wild coveys)  Over the course of the 3 days we hunted there, both Remi and Colt had productive finds on covies of quail numbering from 5-double digits.  Nolan killed his first wild quail, and I got my first couple in decades.  I had totally forgetton the exhilaration when your dog has froze like a statue, you step in front of him, and then the covey rises in an explosion of wings and chaos.  We all got shots at multiple coveys of birds, and I was proud of the Larison Britts, as they handled them like career quail guide dogs. This alone was worth the long 6 hour drive from SD.  

Waterfowl - Waterwhat?

While I've dabbled with a littl bit of duckhunting around Ohio, I've never really waterfowled nor had any one else on the trip.  As it turns out Kansas is pretty friendly to waterfowlers with their license and stamps being affordable.  While we were Pheasant and quail hunting near some moving water, Dad scored our one and only Snow goose of the trip, a beautiful bird (Check out the picture below)! That same day I shot my first mallard, which died into a swift moving, extremely cold and fairly large creek. I just happened to have Annie on the ground hunting at that moment and sent her into the water for the blind retrieve.  Which she executed perfectly! That totally untrained dog still blows my mind!

Since we all had purchased waterfowl stamps as well as our normal hunting license and looked up a local guide to take us for a day of goose hunting.  We spent the morning and evening that day in the pit blind.  The morning, did not provide any excitement at all, other than passing the heater back and forth to keep feeling in our fingers and toes.  But the evening hunt proved to be much more eventful.  We climbed back into the pit blind at 3:30 and after a short wait the excitement started.  Joey our guide had a huge spread of decoys surrounding the pit including a decoy sitting right in front of each of us. We were all peaking out watching geese fly in, as joey played the goose call masterfully. They came gliding right in wings spread for landing 15 yards out. Upon his command we all tipped our decoys our of the way and we erupted from the pit with 12 gauges blasting, bringing the 10-15 lbs birds crashing to the ground.  Never to deficate on a golf course or sidewalk again LOL We repeated the effort 2 more times, and brought down a total of 8 Canada Geese An exciting first for all off us.  The next day in another public hunting area Dad and Nolan spotted a large flock of Canadian migrators, and snuck in for 3 more of them. Bring our waterfowl total to 11 for the week.

The Larison Britts were on top of their game all week.  Remi, retrieved every bird that hit the ground, and made some really nice recoveries on some wounded birds that a lessor dog may not have been able to complete.  Colt was steady as a picture on point, and put on a clinic on the quail (Not a suprise with him also now being an accomplished grouse dog)  Nelli and Annie both had some nice finds and both had feathers in their mouths at different times over the course of the week.  Now home, all the dogs are in about the same shape as me.  Sore, resting, and dreaming of those coveys of quail exploding into the woods followed with the sound of a shot gun and the command.  DEAD BIRD, FETCH!  Topped off with an affectionate scratch of the ears, "good dog" and maybe even a kiss on the head, (Sorry, even if they are hunting dogs, I love them)

One of many measures of a hunting trip is taking a look at the mixed bag that you come home with. Well our final nubers on the trip are as follows. 24 Roosters, 11 Canada Geese, 1 Snow Goose, 1 Drake Mallard, and 3 Quail. Quite an impressive mixed bag, that we absolutely worked hard to get.  We walked nearly 260 miles as a foursome. Making those birds, well-earned.

Just like all of our trips we learned a lot. We learned that there are literally about 1 million birds less by December than early November in SD.  While we did have significant success in both states we hunted, we were reminded why its called hunting and not shooting (There were some tough days).  We learned that Kansas has a large variety of game and great public area's to pursue it. I learned that goose hunting is a blast, and that mallard and Snow geese are best grilled medium rare with salt and pepper. I learned that Kansas fox grass, sand burrs, thistle covers are much harder on the dogs, than South Dakota prairie grass. (Remi and Colt are both pretty beat up and bloody coming home from this trip.  They are ready for some rest and relaxation). I am reminded that I am blessed to have such close companions and determined hunters in those dogs. Most importantly I'm always reminded on these trips how blessed I am to be able to share these times with Nolan, my dad, and Luke.  Its a huge financial, and time commitment for each one of us to go on this trip each year, but the early morning hunt camp breakfast's, late night conversations, evening cigars, with a whisky and coke, and even the meals that our wives and families have all prepared and planned out for us are all very humbling and remind me above all what life is all about.

Well Next year will be interesting, I plan to have both of my boys out there for the first time together, a trip I've been looking forward to since my first trip out west.  Hope you enjoyed hearing about the trip, and the pictures below.

Matt

Day 1 Winner SD - Remi showing off

End of Day 1- SD Limit! Outside the Warrier Inn

Day 2 - ROOSTER! (Me, Nolan, and Luke)

Hunt camp dinner - Man we eat good!

Chilling with Remi 

First Kansas rooster

Cold day in Kansas (1 day later than the previous picture)

Mixed bag

Cold weather success!

Annie with our Mallard

Luke with a black pheasant and Rooster

From the pit blind

Last day of hunting - Man I love these guys.

Hard core waterfowlers - Hahaha

Grouse Season 2016 - Success At Last!

"Accomplishment" Webster describes this as the successful achievement of a task.  Accomplishments are always gratifying, but when an accomplishment takes training, dedication, perseverance and teamwork to achieve. Well now that is the kind of accomplishment that tends to make the chest puff out just a little further.

October 8th-11th Dad and I headed north for our 3rd grouse & woodcock hunting trip in northern Michigan.  This time choosing to hunt in the Camp Grayling area at the advice of my good friend, and life long grouse hunter Jim Hamer.  Jim has always told me that any Grouse that makes into the game bag is a trophy.  Over the last three years I have learned that no truer statement has been spoken about pursuing this bird.  As a rookie grouse hunter, I have sought out the advice of older more experienced hunters and thankfully many of them have been graceful enough to pass along some of the knowledge they have acquired during their years. Through them I've learned important information ranging from identifying the right types/locations of covers, food sources, and even grouse hunting etiquette. My dad introduced me to most of the types of game that we pursue when I was a young boy growing up in Southern Indiana. But Hunting Grouse was a new challenge to both of us, and our 4-legged friends three years ago.  During the last three years we have had very little success in our grouse hunting efforts. The only coming in the form of 1 lone grouse that my dad scored last year in the Upper Peninsula (His first).  We could only hope that this year may be different.

Early Saturday morning we headed north cautiously optimistic that maybe this was the year. Dad, myself, Remi, Colt, (Two of my Britts) and Tessie (Mr Hamer's "once in a lifetime" Grouse guide dog, who also happens to be Colt's Momma) I've heard Jim say that all Grouse dogs can hunt other species of upland birds with success, but not all bird dogs can hunt Grouse. (Yet another experience proven truth. Now 3 years into my grouse hunting journey, I would add to that the same may be said for hunters) We reached our first destination south of Grayling just after noon, and set out for our first 1/2 day in the woods on this hunt. Excited to go we geared up, grabbed our guns, mark the truck on the GPS (a must) and set Tessie on her way. We were not 100' from the truck when I heard her collar playing the sweet sound of Point mode. Dad and I looked at each other, grinned and headed towards her into the cover.  We were crawling under limbs, squeezing between young aspens, pushing through stickers that were drawing blood on exposed skin, and all this not even 5 minutes into this trip. When we reached her, her quiver of excitement, and breathing were her only movements, as she stood locked up tight, confident that she had found what we were looking for . We moved in slowly from both sides, and suddenly the beating of wings erupted and a grouse helicoptered towards the sky and blasted off to the south. (Taking some of that advice I mentioned earlier) I emptied all three rounds from my favorite Browning, as I attempted to catch up to the bird speeding away.  "Damn it, I missed". Tessie gave the area a once over, to make sure the bird wasn't lying on the ground and soon agreed with me as she headed off hunting again.

Based on my experience hunting Pheasants and Quail I have always considered myself a pretty good wing shooter, but like I said earlier I had really only been able to fire a couple shots at grouse in my life until this day. Well on this afternoon, Tessie would provide 14 productive points on grouse, and 1 on a Woodcock. I'm embarrassed to tell you that I fired a total of 20 times in the next 3 hours, and I only connected once and it was on the Woodcock. Unfortunately that day Dad seemed to always find himself in the wrong place at the wrong time, and he actually didn't fire a shot a single shot.

Later that day we put Tessie up for some rest, and got Colt and Remi out for their opportunities.  Both Colt and Remi are very accomplished bird dogs.  However, neither of them had any more previous success with grouse than I had.  Between them, they busted 7 grouse during the evening hunt.  As bad as I wanted success for myself, I also wanted success for them. So I had committed to myself on the way up, that no matter how many birds those two pressured and busted before we could get there.  I was not going to get frustrated.  I was going to let them hunt, and give them every opportunity to figure it out. Late in the day, Colt started figuring it out. On the 5th bird that he encountered and he scored his first productive point on a grouse. Of course it only resulted in another one of my misses that day, but that's not his fault.  For him, this was a win!

On Day two we meet up with 3 friends from Lake Hill (My hunting club) who were also up hunting in the Grayling area.  They took us to a cover they've hunted for years, and dad scored his first woodcock of the trip.  Later in the day we traveled back south of the Grayling, and hunted another cover near where we hunted the day before. During this hunt Colt had his second productive point on grouse, which resulted in yet another miss. Well not long after, we got into a serious patch of thornapple, that was thick with grouse, Now I had always pictured how it would go when I got my first grouse.  You know a staunch point by one of my Britts (like the opportunities I had both the day before and earlier that day) Capped off with an impressive shot, after I flushed the bird, and finished with a stylish retrieve.  Well, not on this day. My buddy Tim was off in the distance hunting his flushing dogs when they moved a bird, The grouse came flying into my range overhead, and we all swung around to take aim. Tim's brother Dave, my dad, and I all touched off shots at the bird.  Somehow they both decided that it was my shot that took the bird down. (I'm still not totally convinced) I really think it was a sympathy present for all the poor shooting.  Nevertheless, "technically" I scored my first bird that day. Though I found it just a little hard to be truly excited about it.

Day Three dad and I headed back to some familiar covers that we had hunted 2 years prior. Remi got the first run of the day, and though she found several birds.  She could not figure how to tone down her rambunctious style of hunting, and become more cautious when encountering scent.  So about 10:00 I kenneled her, and called on Colt again.  With his recent successes, I was hopeful that this was the day we could put it all together.  After switching spots, we stepped into a small patch of young aspen growth, and headed south into the wind.  Not to far into the cover Colt was quartering back towards me from my left,  when he slammed on the brakes and locked up.  Right paw lifted slightly, and I could see the intensity in his eyes, POINT! I Yelled to my dad. The cover looked more like what we would expect to see a woodcock in, but I was hopeful for grouse.  I walked in on the point, and fore a moment nothing happened, then all the sudden the bird took flight out in front of my dad giving me a passing shot low into the popple. The bird crashed down, and colt quickly located it. A good sized gray phased grouse. Finally, there was no doubt on this one! I scooped the bird up and placed it into my game vest and we continued on.  In about another 100 yards, we started moving out of the aspens and into more mature woods loaded with Thornapple, Not 50 yards into it, colt found scent again locking up near a large dead fall.  Point! I yelled to dad again.  I walked up to the downed tree, and stomp in around it.  Nothing....  I kick some branches on the tree, and all the sudden I hear the beating of the wings of another grouse.  This time taking flight to the north and trying to put distance between us fast. I fire two quick shots, and the bird disappeared into the popple.  Dad called out "Did you get it?" I replied, I don't so. Colt was now hunting dead looking for a wounded bird, when he went on point again. (A good sign)  I walked into the general area where he had froze up again.  I kicked a limb that had broken off of a tree, and there below it was a beautiful large mature, gray phased grouse. "I got it!" I called to dad. I got another one!  Dad walked over to me, grinning from ear to ear (and I have to assume I was too) and we took a little break. After snapping some pictures of Colt, and the birds we were getting ready to set off hunting again.   Dad grabbed me by the shoulder, gave me that "come here kid" (from my youth) and gave me a big hug. Now I'm a 38 year old man, hunting with my 60 year old father, and still he was not concerned about the lack of shooting that he had those 3 days.  Rather he was just excited for me and the accomplishment that we (He, I, and Colt) had just completed.  There were more points, birds, and shots fired in those three days, than what I can write about in this passage.  (64 grouse flushed, 4 successfully taken)But none of it compares to the 5 minutes we spent taking that break, talking about the last 3 years leading up to that moment, and the time we shared that day. We will both treasure these days forever.

Thanks for being part of it Dad, thanks for a great trip. Now we can both call ourselves grouse hunters, and guess what..... I have a grouse dog.

This is just a beginning of a serious grouse hunting addiction, not an end.  But I do want to give thanks to all of those guys who shared their knowledge to help pass this tradition on down to us, and were directly responsible for us having this success.  You know who you are.

Sincerely,
Matt

Red phase grouse

Woodcock 

Remi living the good life

2 legit gray phase birds

Proud boy

Having a moment 

 Last woodcock of the trip

Dads, Donuts, and Ducks! - Owens first Duck hunt

Over the years Stacy and I have often times joked about being named "parent of the year".  It's our version of a sarcastic award indicating a moment in parenting when we have seemingly failed our children so miserably that we're sentenced to wear the proverbial "dunce cap" with shame and guilt knowing that we have fallen short as a parent.  Well Friday morning I was definitely the not so proud recipient of this very award when 45 minutes into my workout at the gym I got the following text message from Stacy. "Owen was a bummed that you didn't take him to the "dads and donuts" breakfast at school this morning. I'm a little disappointed too."  "What?! I didn't even know about it"! Well he said he told you about it but you didn't want donuts. Then it hit me.... I reflected to the night before, when at Hunters volleyball game during warm-ups (You know when the pump up music was playing so loud you couldn't even hear yourself think) I remember him asking me something about if I wanted a donut.  I carelessly dismissed it, and said "Owen with all the weight I have lost the last thing I need is a donut."  He came back with something about just having coffee, again I dismissed him stating that I "wasn't really in the mood for coffee". I vaguely remember a funny look on his face, but assumed it was because of the homework he was doing at that moment.  Well all day Friday I was sick with guilt for not having paid enough attention to his invitation to "Dads & Donuts".  I contemplated leaving work to pick him up and take him for lunch to apologize, but I couldn't get away from work long enough to do it. I finally had to settle on a sincere apology and a hug when we both got home that day.  While I never (Ever) want to break one of my kids hearts, the timing of this mishap really could not have been better since this past weekend was the "youth waterfowl season" in Ohio.  It's a special weekend that only kids under the age of 16 are allowed to hunter waterfowl on public or private lands in Ohio.  I had already planned on taking him, but now it had new meaning.  It was my chance to make up for my recent mishap that had caused him some heart ache, and it was going to be special! After apologizing, and a forgiving embrace from him. I ask him if he wanted to be my guest on a special weekend... We'd call it "Dad, Donuts, & Ducks" my attempt at making lemonade out the lemons I had caused.  So with that tune was set and my dunce cap was replaced with with a mossy oak camo cap and waders for the weekend ahead!

Dad, Donuts & Ducks -
Saturday morning the alarm went of at 4:00 AM. Beaming with excitement we both leaped out of our beds with an uncommon ease for that time of the day. We traveled towards the Delaware wildlife area (the same place we frog gigged earlier in the summer).  On the way there we stopped in at Tim Hortons (For obvious reasons) Donuts! After Scarfing down our breakfast we arrived at the flooded timber section of the wildlife area and finished getting ready. After applying the camo to our faces and gearing up, we hot-footed it into the marsh by the light of the moon and headlamps.  We found a nice natural blind right on the edge where the open water meets the flooded timber, and settled in for an hour wait until daylight broke on the eastern the horizon. Owen was excited in anticipation of the day to come, and struggled to maintain a "quiet" level of talking. But he finally settled in and we sat and listened as the marsh came life nearing the light of day.  Legal shooting light was 7:01 and sure enough by 7:02 there were shots being fired.  There were two other groups of young hunters in the marsh as well, and they were seeing the first action of the morning.  In a flash we got our first glimpse of two wood ducks sailing by, leaving nothing more than an invisible vapor trail behind them.  "Whoa they're fast!" Owen exclaimed, "Shhhhh" I whispered, and refocused his eyes on the sky.  For the next 15 minutes, he ran through nearly a full box of Kent Fast Steal waterfowl ammo.  Occasionally, causing a duck to dip, or even lose a feather or two.  But it wasn't until 7:16 that he spotted a loan wood duck coming in from the east.  He stood up in anticipation of its arrival into his shooting lane.  The duck saw his movement, and changed course veering south behind us.  Owen quickly spun 180 degrees and touched off two rounds connecting on the second one, bringing the bird crashing down into the woods behind us.  I jumped up in excitement and splashed into the timber for the retrieve. Owen fired several other shots that morning, but this one was his only taste of success for the day, but that was enough to make it a great day for him. 

Saturday evening we had other commitments, so we were not able to hunt. But 4:00 AM Sunday morning we were right back at it continuing our weekend of Dad, Donuts, and Ducks.

Sunday Day 2 - The wake up came just a little slower on day 2 with us both being pretty tired from day 1, but nevertheless we were back in our stand nice and early.  It seemed to be just a little chillier in our blind Sunday morning so Owen curled up against me for warmth and was so tired he fell asleep right there in the swamp while we were waiting on day break. 5 minutes before legal shooting time I woke him up.  Well it doesn't take long or much shooting to educate the waterfowl population that hunting season has started.  So word must have spread (so to speak) by Sunday morning, and the birds were much more skiddish and scarce.  We did have some action but nothing resulting in duck on the dinner table.  We headed out of the swamp about 9:00 and I attempted to get re-baptized in the green murky water on the way out after I tripped over a sunken log.  I think it added to Owens fun weekend, even though it was a wet afternoon for me (inside my waders) 

That evening we wrapped up the youth weekend by setting up on the lake at Lake Hill (my hunting club)  We put out decoys, and got cammoed up again nestled into the north east end of the lake by about 5:00.  It was fairly long wait that evening for the action to start (Closer to 7:00) and Owen, just as most young hunters was struggling with being patient while waiting on the action to start.  He pulled his pocket knife from his pants pocket and carved me a memento from the weekend. (Pic below)

Finally with dark approaching, the wood ducks started to come in. Again, he was working his way through another box of ammo, when 4 ducks came in low to try to land in the decoys. Wings spread, gliding in to touchdown on the water, Owen touched off a perfectly timed round, and one of them crashed to the water. Another hen wood duck, his 2nd of the weekend. He erupted with a YES accompanied with a tiger woods style fist pump.  Dark was coming in fast, so we hustled down and launched the canoe to go retrieve his duck.  So with Owen and his headlamp at at the front of the boat navigating and me providing the locomotion we made our way across the lake and back. A really cool end to an incredible couple days. 

At the end of It all Owen scored 2 wood ducks on this weekend, and I made amends for a careless mistake. Together we shared some experiences that neither one of us will ever forget, and had a blast while doing so. Dad, Donuts, and Ducks a weekend we'll always remember. 

Hope you enjoyed. (Pictures from the adventure below)

Matt 

Donuts!

From our blind the first morning

Sleepy little man

Eyes to the Sky 

All smiles

Proud kid!

Our blind at lake hill

(Dad I Love you)

American Brittany, American Dad - 2016 Dove Opener

Dove Season - Owens Day afield & Wanker Central

Sometimes I wonder what I may write about next, and even get a little nervous that I may eventually run out of new material.  But I've finally realized with every adventure we go on, the material creates itself. It's not even my matieral really, it's the fabric of our lives, and you just cannot make this stuff up, so I hope you enjoy.

Well the wait up to the much anticipated September 1st Dove opener is finally over.  We had a an increadable day, of Dove action, shooting (mostly poor), laughter (at a lot of that shooting), a little foul language, and making more memories.  I hope you enjoy hearing about the day as much as we all did living it.

For some strange reason every year August 31st seems to bring me a last minute challenge of some sort that seemingly has to be dealt with right then (at least in my own mind).  I guess it's just because once September 1st hits, I don't want any lingering issues that will loom over me until I have fulfilled my duties.  I can remember in recent years, grouting tile at 1:30 in the morning to complete a kitchen remodel just before hunting season kicked off early the next morning. In other years brake jobs on cars, and this year it was our current washer and dryer dying and having to be replaced.  So, 8-31-16 7:00PM Baylee and I were headed to Lowes to purchase a new washer and Dryer.  The installation started about 8:30 and of course step 1 was getting the old front loaders out.  I couldn't quite remember getting that heavy front load washing machine down into the basement of our Bi-level home, but I think it is because, it originally went into place through our previous lower level garage (that is now Hunters bedroom).  Well most of you know that I'm no little guy myself, and so surely with the help of my strapping 600 club, 16 year old Nolan, we could easily dolly that washer right up those stairs and out the front door, right? Wrong! It didn't matter how we positioned ourselves, that stupid thing was just beyond the combined capacity of what the two of us could lift.  Well Dove season was just hours away, so desperate times call for desperate measures.  So after a quick consult with Nolan, and a little "hillbilly ingenuity" we had my F150 backed up to the front door, and a rope running through the front door and down the stairs into the basement. We connected it to the two wheel dolly, with that washing machine strapped to it. Nolan did the driving, and I rode the machine right up those stairs and out the front door. (All against the advice of my doubting and nervous kids Hunter and Owen).  With this removal complete, the reinstallation went smoothly, and we were back in the laundry business by 11:00pm.  I quickly transitioned into "loading mode" to get all the needed gear loaded up and ready for early the next morning.  Now we don't utilize our Brittany's for dove hunting, but there is no keeping secrets from the dogs as I'm loading up the truck as to what is going on.  They recognize the smells of hunting season, from the guns and ammo, to the clothes.  Remi firmly planted herself in the front seat of my truck while I was loading it as if to say, You are NOT leaving me home tomorrow, I'll wait here.  She remained in the front seat the entire hour plus that I loaded the truck.

Well the alarm went off bright and early and even on very little sleep, we never seem to struggle to get up for any type of hunting season.  This year since September 1st fell on a Thursday and Nolan in the midst of football season, wasn't able to miss school to go.  So 1 amigo short Owen and I met Pop at my office in Columbus at 5:30 and headed to Deer Creek wildlife area.  We made our way back to a nice suitable dove field, manicured with a combination of standing corn and burnt/tilled edges loaded up with a number of other hunters as well. (Which we so fondly refer to as "Wankers") The action started fast for Owen and Pop (I wasn't hunting at this point, just taking video, keeping a close eye on Owen for gun safety and proper species identification, and bird dogging for both of them when a bird was downed). The shooting started a little a rough for Owen (who had high hopes now sporting his 20 guage Autoloader instead of a single shot 4-10 like last year).  But finally he connected on one, and it crashed to the ground right out in front of us in the tall grass just beyond the burnt edge.  "Nice Shot!" I cheered as I jumped up to go after the retrieve.  As I walked out of our spot in the corn, I noticed a Wanker (an older guy) also walking towards where the bird had came to rest.  I said, "did you shoot at that bird as well?"  (Having only heard Owens shot) "Yes, I killed it" he replied.  Now I don't normally dispute over who shot birds at all (for several reasons) (I'm not super confrontational with people carrying a gun for one, and two there are plenty of birds to go around anyway)  But in this case it was Owens bird, and I was sure he hit it. Plus he had been getting a little frustrated with all the missing birds he had been doing.  So I thought No, I am pursuing this a little harder.  I replied, "well you may have shot at it, but I am fairly certain that is my 11 year old sons bird. I actually got it on video" I said.  Again, he replied "I killed it and I'm taking it".  I quickly shot back " Are you really going to steel a bird from an 11 year old kid? He spouted back with some sarcastic nasty remark, about me running my mouth but he was still taking the bird.  Well part of telling theses stories is being truthful, even when I am not proud of it. So here it goes....  I lost my cool, and instead of taking advantage of a good teachable moment regarding sportsmanship with Owen, I spouted back at that nasty old man went on to call him an "old bastard". (Possibly more than once or twice over the next little bit) my blood was boiling to say the least.  Well I finally settled down and we went on about our hunt. A little while later that same Wanker shot another bird., and without missing a beat Owen said "Dad look, the Old Bastard shot another one"!  "Owen!!!" I said, "You can't say that, it's a bad word!"  "Oh!" He blushed.  "Dad I'm sorry, I didn't know, I mean it's what you called him!"   Well sometimes nothing is better for self reflection then hearing your exact words repeated out of your child's mouth....  

Well after gathering myself, we went on about our morning.  We had a quick visit from a couple nice conservation officers who were doing their jobs, and checking licensing and making sure hunters had plugs in their guns.  Well not long after they left us, they were down talking to my new friend (the old bastard) and as it turns out they busted him for illegally baiting his area for scattering fresh corn all over the area. (Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy) Well the officer came back our way and ask us if we had seen him spreading the corn. Well whether you call it Karma, or the old phrase what goes around comes around either way his fate rested in our hands now.  I looked the officer in the eye and told him this.  "As much I would love to say yes to that question, I can't.  Sadly, we didn't see him do anything of the sort,even though he is a nasty old man." Shortly after we left that field, and headed on down to Fallsville for the afternoon hunt.

Fallsville - 

Pop had gotten lucky and got drawn in the Lottery for the controlled hunt at Fallsville.  Getting drawn for a spot means that he got to take one buddy with him and you get to hunt in the controlled fields where there is a lot less hunters.  Well after some careful consideration we all decided that it was best for Owen to go with Pop into the controlled hunt, and Matt Schmalz and I headed into Fallsville South AKA "Wanker Central" (a non controlled public hunting area with TOO Many hunters). It was a wild day with tons of shooting, and getting peppered with other people's shots!   I got a second hand story from Pop and Owen about a one of the birds that Owen shot.  He knocked a bird down about 15-20 yards away.  He went out to pick it up, reached down grabbed it and as he stood up it came back to life and literally flew out of his hand.  As it blasted off as fast as it could, Owen quickly shouldered his gun and touched off his last two rounds dropping the bird again, on the second report. This time it hit ground dead, and Owen retrieved the bird with ease.

Well at the end of it all we bagged a total of 56 Doves. Matt Shot 15, Dad shot 15, I shot 15 and Owen shot 11

I'm really thankful that Owen and Pop got to share the day together.  These days with a Grandpa and Gradnson are simply unreplacable, and should treasured.  I'm sure they have tons more stories that the two of them will always have in common that I don't know about, and that is exactly what this is all about.  It was even a nice time for me, since most of the time I get out I spend focusing on the kids and dogs.  But on this afternoon, Pop was in charge of Owen so I just had my own self to worry about. (And all the Wankers of course). You can tell from the pictures below that no went home disappointed, and another fall is in the crosshairs.

In this day and age where people are so out of touch with the animals that feed us, there is something really special about sitting down to enjoy a meal that you personally harvested.  Some of you may not get this, but for those of you who have experienced this you really appreciate the sacrifice of the animal that is feeding you and your family.  You can see in the pictures below, we really enjoyed this meal.

Remi's litter has started leaving and going home, and now only 4 puppies remain. Once we get them all delivered, I will post a final blog on Remi's puppies. (Not to be too big of a spoiler but there may be a new up and comer in the Larison Brittany's hunting line) Wait and See...

I hope you have enjoyed the post.

Sincerely,

Matt

Remi protesting - (NO DOG LEFT BEHIND!)

Pop, Matt Schmalz, Owen, and Me

The day's harvest 

Owen helping to prepare

A meal fit for a king

Stacy was out of town but the rest of the family enjoyed the meal.  Nolan had a buddy over that REALLY enjoyed the feast!

American Kid - American Truck?

It's been stated many times that as parents our kids passions become our own. Well Stacy and I have proven that true time and time again over our years of parenting.  But what happens when your child's passions are in direct conflict with our own? An interesting phenomenon occurs, and we embrace their desire and swallow our own distaste for whatever it is we formally despised.  This post definitely falls under the "American Dad" theme of my subject matter, and I hope you enjoy it.

The back story - 

When Nolan turned 16 we bought him an 89 F150 4WD.  Canary yellow (So he was easy to identify around town) A fairly nice older truck, simple enough that he and I could make basic repairs as needed, but fuel injected so it would be much more dependable then older carbureted models.  This truck has kind of become his identity around our small town, sporting an American flag on the back, an ALDER 52 football, and NRA sticker on the back glass.  He rolls around town playing country music a little to loud, and drives a little to fast.  (But I guess we all did) Nolan is a conservative "red blooded", patriotic, American kid, and I couldn't be more proud of that.  Well just like almost every country boy, Nolan immediately fell in love his first truck, and wanted to start working on it. First it was an alternator, then shocks, brakes, tires, radiator, the list goes on and on.  All of which I agreed needed done, and supported.  Until the day back in early spring when Nolan came home and said this.  

"Dad, I'm going to put a 6" lift on my truck". (Me) What?! Why in the world would you want to do that? (Nolan) "Why Not?!  And Because it looks cool"! (Spoken like a 16 year old) I quickly provided a good case as to why it was a terrible idea to make such an extreme change on a 27 year old truck.  He insisted that he and his buddy RJ, who had recently also put a 6" lift under his Chevy truck were going to do it.  I reminded him that it was "technically" my truck and that it was a very bad idea.  Not drawing a line in the sand, but feeling pretty confident that I had defused and avoided that catastrophe.

The Suprise - 

Nolan, went on about his way and didn't say a whole lot more about it except for occasional hint.  Summer came, and he went to work at our local Kroger store stocking shelves. Well about three weeks ago, he came into the room excited and said "Dad, I have been saving money all summer and I just ordered my lift kit"!  Less than impressed with the statement, I rolled my eyes, scoffed at him and dismissed his excitement with with my own dismay.  "Well you and RJ better figure this out, because it's not going to me me rolling around on the barn floor, I can tell you that." I barked at him.

Now those of you who know me well, know that of all the many things I'm involved with, interested in, or enjoy, automotive work is the farthest thing from that list. I despise it, loathe it, avoid it, and when I'm able, I pay someone else to do it.  Sure enough a week later the lift kit arrived.  Nolan quickly rushed into the barn with it and started tearing through all the boxes, (It reminded me of Christmas morning when the kids were little) He was excited as could be and started planning the installation.  Since all this talk of the 6" lift started, his buddy RJ had taken on a new job, and now didn't have nearly the extra time he had before. So I knew that meant one thing, I was going to get stuck figuring out how to install this stupid lift kit under this old truck. Well in the spirit of good parenting, I mentally prepared myself for the frustration I knew was ahead, because I knew that Nolan would need my help. Now he already knows how much effort I put into avoiding auto mechanic work, So I'm sure it surprised him the first night when I said, Nolan lets go get started on your truck.

The Project - 

The project started on August 1st, and ran through August 13. With both of our busy schedules limiting our available time to work on it, it was usually from 7:00pm until midnight plus all day on the weekends.  The instructions that came with the lift kit indicated that it was a 6 hour project, which I would say was "slightly" understated since it ran 13 days for us.  But I'm sure it had nothing to do with the fact that neither one of us had really any clue what we were doing or that all the bolts were seized up. Regardless, one swear word, one steel rivet, one busted finger, and one rusty bolt at a time, we worked together and got his lift kit installed.

At one point along the way Nolan was looking into bigger tires online as any young excited redneck kid installing a lift kit on their truck would do, so I ask what he had in mind.  He said he had already purchased new black rims. He told me he was on Craig's list and found the "perfect tires" 35x12.5xr15's (with absolutely no tread left).  What he really meant was he found terrible tires that would fit that he could afford.  I quickly pointed out that not 1500 miles ago I put a brand new set of tires on that truck, and that I expected brand new tires on it when we were finished. I explained that having good tires was important to me, and a matter of safety for him and the other kids. "Dad, I can't afford those!" He said. "Well I guess you should have thought of that before we started tearing your truck apart" (I replied). I saw this as a good lesson in planning out the costs of an entire project before diving into it.  After a little tormenting about him buying new tires, we worked out a deal where we would help him afford the new set of tires.  So on this past Saturday the 13th, we completed the lift kit and had it in the tire shop by Monday morning (Getting those BRAND NEW 35x12.5R15's). 

The "take-away"

Prior to starting, this was one of the most dreaded and daunting projects that I could have ever been faced with.  But in retrospect, while I still hate working on vehicles, (and probably always will) this was one of my all time favorite things that Nolan and I have ever done together.  We worked together, learned together, made mistakes together, fixed our mistakes together, bloodied our knuckles together, pushed through failures and enjoyed  successes together, and at the end of it all we accomplished it together.  He learned a lot about common sense, and basic mechanics, and practical knowledge working with your hands. While I learned a lot about how smart, mature, strong and determined he really is.  I can't believe I'm saying this, but deep down inside, I'm just a little sad that the project is complete. (But Just a little) One of the last nights we spent working on it, around midnight after we had gone inside.  He popped his head out of his bedroom, and simply said this. "Dad, thanks so much for helping me with this, I couldn't have done it without you, and I really appreciate it".

For some this might seem like a somewhat expected response, but coming from him, this meant the world to me. Neither one of us will ever forget the stupid mistakes we made, how frustrated we got along the way, the time we spent, or how FREAKING COOL that truck is now....

I Hope you have enjoyed this real life story and the pictures below.

Sincerely,

Matt

(PS - 16 days to Dove season)

Nolan's truck before we started

Project Under way

Looking Good! LOL 

progress?   With the axle sitting on the ground.

Can you see my excitement? :)

After the lift, before wheels and tires

Project complete!

Proud Kid!

Bouncing Baby Brittany's - Take Two!

Larison's Remington (The legendary Nolan's Last Bullets, granddaughter) and my best 4-legged friend in the world... Has once again come together with Groustangle's Nolan's Blazin Colt to produce 7 beautiful Brittany's.  If you've ever hunted with either one of these dogs, then you know they are both serious bird dogs, but it doesn't end there.  These are also some of the most affectionate, and biddable Brittany's I've ever been around.  The outcome was 7 beautiful, and healthy pups born on July 19th (5 girls & 2 boys).  These pups will be ready for their forever homes just after Labor Day. Remi is orange/white roan, while Colt is Liver/white with some ticking.  The result was 4 orange and white & 3 Liver and white, some of both colors will be roan, but all will be lookers!

The total cost of these AKC registered sweethearts is $650.00 Reserve your pick now with a $100.00 non refundable deposit.

I'd love to see these little bird slayers go to hunting homes, but as long as they will be loved we're happy to see them go to any GOOD home.  This is Remi's 2nd and final liter, she and I have way to many birds "calling our names" to spend anymore time caring for puppie! LOL. So last chance for pup out of this proven serious bird dog.

Meet our babies - (Nick named by Stacy & girls)

Meet "Oscar" White/Live Male

Meet "GiGi" (Golden Globe) Liver/White Female

Meet "Jolie" (After Angelina Jolie) but I call her (Remi Jr) both for the same reasons.  She is a looker!

Meet "Tony" Orange/White male

meet "Espy" - She was a super fast delivery!

Meet "Emmy" Another pretty little gal!

"Razzi" - This little Liver/Roan is a Prize!

We are located in Plain City Ohio.  If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to give me a call.

Hope you enjoyed the pictures, we sure are enjoying the pups.

Sincerely,

Matt Larison

317-716-8311