Skunks and Outdoor Traditions on Christmas

Hot coffee and a good Christmas cooking fire, the One-Eyed Hillbilly ('kunk' trapper) and Uncle Joe O’Day cooking the Christmas deer ham over an open fire.

On Christmas day there are lots of things we could be doing in the Great Outdoors - muzzleloader season, trapping season, archery season, rabbit season, and squirrel season and that’s not even mentioning great trophy trout fishing opportunities down on the Current River. But did I dare go hunting or fishing on Christmas day? Well,…no. But I did manage to get outside. I told my wife I didn’t want to go but in Missouri we have to check our traps every 24 hours so I had to go to the woods – it’s the law. And, to add another degree of difficulty to the task, in Dent County with the white Christmas we were hit with temperatures in the twenties with 2 inches of blowing snow. I figured everything would be hunkered down but I still had to go. Due to the poor heater performance from my old ’89 Ford pickup I determined maybe we should’ve been hunkered down as well! You could see your breath inside the cab for the first 30 minutes and I’m not sure my uncle, Joe O’Day was ever able to see through the ice on his side of the windshield. But hey, we were in the woods on Christmas.

We were also outside for a different reason on Christmas day. Last month we had made plans to cook a deer ham over the fire pit in the back yard for Christmas dinner. I thought that was a great idea and a chance to start a Christmas tradition in the outdoors for some of the heartier individuals at the Christmas gathering. I planned to put on a pot of coffee along side the ham and we could stand around the fire drinking hot coffee while the others inside prepared the rest of the meal and the kids played with their new toys. I felt it only fitting to honor the bounty of Mother Nature by cooking in the outdoors at such a time of celebration.

We multitasked while starting the fire. On Christmas day it’s always a huge mess with wrapping paper everywhere after the presents are all unwrapped. This year after all the Christmas gifts had been unwrapped we gathered all the papers (a few receipts and instruction manuals that weren’t supposed to be burned too) and put them in empty boxes and stuck them under the fire grate with wood piled on top. All the paper was excellent tinder and started the cooking fire right up. By 8:30 am two chores were already completed – the holiday mess was cleaned up and the cooking fire was blazing.

The deer ham was laid out to thaw the day before. I covered the entire piece of meat with garlic powder and then wrapped it from end to end in bacon. The entire thing was then encased in 8 layers of aluminum foil and set on the grate above the fire. It was turned once every 30 minutes for 3½ hours. We kept the fire blazing and the coffee percolating. An open fire, hot campfire coffee, and good outdoor conversation on Christmas day – now that is a Christmas tradition to remember and repeat!

In spite of the harsh weather, after dinner my Uncle Joe O’Day and I ran my trap line. We cut only a single set of tracks the entire trip…a skunk’s tracks…and he was in one of my traps. Funny how relatives just don’t seem to want to sit by you or carry on a conversation after you’ve wrestled with a skunk. As I suspected, most other critters were hunkered down. For me personally, the only luck worse than a dry run is to have a skunk – it’s kind of like getting coal in your stocking on Christmas! And, the only thing dumber, from your wife’s point of view, than going to the woods on a cold and snowy Christmas day is to bring home a skunk after going to the woods on a cold and snowy Christmas day. The skunk was in the bed of the pickup and my wife LaDonna said she could smell it in the house. I just don’t believe it. In any event, according to my good friend Dave Brown, on Christmas Day 2010, I was a ‘kunk’ trapper for sure. So says the One-Eyed Hillbilly.

Greg Stephens is a 35-year veteran & life-time student of the great outdoors. His column appears weekly in print & online publications. You can email him at gregstephens@one-eyedhillbilly.com. For more columns go to www.one-eyedhillbilly.blogspot.com.

Packin’ a Smoke Pole and Cuttin’ for Sign

Predator control success on opening day of muzzleloader season. Big Mac Jim McDaniels and the One-Eyed Hillbilly with an Ozarks bobcat.

I learned a lesson this past weekend during opening weekend of Missouri muzzleloader season – you are never too far back in the woods to be out of earshot of others. And, if you forget this lesson you will make an idiot of yourself. I did both. You see, it is both muzzleloader season and furbearer / trapping season. So, this past weekend I carried my smoke pole while I was running my trap line. As it always turns out, I ended up ‘cutting for sign’ for trapping as much or more than I spent time looking for deer. Missouri muzzleloader season runs from December 18th through December 28th. If you have an unfilled tag left from regular firearms season and you have access to a muzzleloader then deer season may not be over for you yet. However, since Christmas falls during the season I advise that you open all your presents and put them away before you head to the woods to hunt – Santa (and everybody else) will put you on the Bad List and take back all the presents if you leave to hunt prior to opening gifts…trust me on this, you will not be popular!

At Lake Spring this past Saturday I slung my muzzleloader over my shoulder and struck out for the trap line. Deer hunting and trapping - it was a double dip on outdoor excitement! The next day, Sunday afternoon, I took my son Alex with me to the woods. We were there to run the traps, watch for deer, and pick up a load of wood in the process. Much to Alex’s joyous relief the sun had thawed the ground enough that we almost got stuck in the field so picking up the wood was out. Since it was muzzleloader season, we opted instead to set a few more traps while watching for deer. After we finished setting in a few more sets at Lake Spring we headed up the road to a friend’s place to try our hand there.

The whole time we were in the truck Alex was playing some sort of video game or IPOD thingy. I don’t like video games or IPOD thingies. As a matter of fact I despise those things. I think they are pretty much a waste of time. So, I was a little irritated from the get-go. As we pulled in to the last spot to set a trap I was out of the truck and digging a trap bed while Alex sat in the truck playing games. As I walked back and forth getting equipment and tools I was getting more and more irritated. I began talking to myself. When I was a kid when dad had taken me to hunt or fish he had to make me walk 5 steps behind him or I’d be stepping on his heels - Alex was in the truck with an IPOD thingy. I felt a ‘Stephens’ fit’ coming on.

Song dogs just before muzzleloader season – predator control means higher fawn survival rates in the spring. Jim McDaniels and the One-Eyed Hillbilly with a double on coyotes.

When I was a kid I thought the ‘Stephens’ fit’ was the evil side of his split personality that possessed my dad when I screwed up. Later, as I got older I discovered from listening to my cousins that it was actually an evil spirit that possessed both my dad and his brother, Uncle Bob. After I became a parent myself I discovered that the spirit had jumped from dad to me as well. As I said, Alex was in the truck playing a video game and I asked him if he had the time and didn’t mind, maybe he could help me. He got out of the truck and brought me a spade. As I dug with my rubber boots and gloves to prevent scent transfer, Alex coughed loudly and spit right next to my trap bed. That was the final straw - the evil side of my split personality had arrived! At the top of my lungs I tore loose with a #!X%$@X#!%@#!... spit and gasp and cough! It was ugly! Alex just looked at me in disbelief as if to say, “What was that all about?!”

As I was catching my breath I glanced up the trail and caught a glimpse of something moving toward the truck. It was two hunters, a young man and woman. They had been just over the pond bank from us when we pulled up. Not only had we ruined their hunt but they witnessed my amusing little foray in the demented world of the ‘Stephens’ fit’. I was embarrassed! Alex didn’t say a thing. Had it been me 30 years ago I would have wanted to get on the ground kicking and screaming with laughter because my dad had just made an idiot of himself while throwing a fit...though I wouldn't dared have actually done it. I would have thought that there was some justice in the world when dad acted like that only to discover that someone else other than his intended audience witnessed the whole ugly episode. Ya, 30 years ago that would’ve really been funny alright…but it wasn’t funny the other day.

What is this world coming too? You can’t even throw a good fit out in the middle of the woods without someone hearing you. That’s just wrong. We did manage to catch a few critters last weekend but no deer. I guess when you think about it, it isn’t surprising. When I was with my son I was pitching a fit and when I was by myself I was looking for furbearer sign more than I was hunting so there was no way I was going to see any deer. Lessons learned – regardless of where you are, don’t throw a fit if you aren’t willing for everyone to hear and don’t expect a one-eyed guy to be able to cut for trapping sign and keep an eye out for deer at the same time! So says the One-Eyed Hillbilly.

Greg Stephens is a 35-year veteran & life-time student of the great outdoors. His column appears weekly in print & online publications. You can email him at gregstephens@one-eyedhillbilly.com. For more columns go to www.one-eyedhillbilly.blogspot.com.

Eating ‘Grinners’ and Managing Wildlife

A carnivorous predator to the core - an Ozark Mountain bobcat showing his general demeanor.

If you love any kind of hunting in the Ozarks you should love trappers. Predator control has been proven a vital part of a three pronged approach to a quality wildlife management plan. Combined with quality habitat improvement and proven harvest practices, predator trapping is a vital and enjoyable way to improve your deer, turkey, upland bird, and small game populations while gaining a much greater understanding and appreciation of the inner workings of Mother Nature. I’ve tried to explain this exciting piece of information to my wife over the years but she just couldn’t get past the smell of the inside of my Jeep during trapping season. Also, according to her, trapping gets in the way of Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years. And it gets me up too early in the morning and it keeps me in the fur shed too late at night for 3 long months. Hmmm. Now I’ve always been told that marriage is compromise so this year I changed from trapping in the Jeep to a pickup – now LaDonna can go along with me when I run traps. I guess my sentimental side gets the better of me during Christmas, ain’t she a lucky woman!

The One-Eyed Hillbilly with a double on bobcats. Removing predators just prior to fawning is a very important aspect of Quality Deer Management.

In a recently released 10 year study conducted by faculty and students at Mississippi State University it was proven that deer are a very important part of the diet for coyotes. Bobcats were also shown to be a predator of deer – mainly older fawns. The two main peak times that deer hair shows up in coyote and bobcat scat is during fawning season and during hunting season. The study showed that for best results predator removal had to occur just prior to peak fawning. That bit of information plays well for trappers and trapping season in the late winter just prior to spring fawning times. Per the study, for best results trapping needs to be undertaken when predation is identified as the limiting factor of the wildlife population and the wildlife population is below the carrying capacity of the land. The study showed that removal of coyotes and bobcats had a significant impact on fawn survival. And, the study didn’t even take into consideration the impact on turkeys, quail, rabbits, squirrels, or any other game animals. If that isn’t reason enough to trap or ask a trapper to do it for you then I don’t know what is!

A back foot catch but pride will get you an empty fur shed! The One-Eyed Hillbilly with the first coyote of 2010.

The furbearers were on the move this past week as I put steel in the ground for the first time this year just prior to the arctic front moving in over the weekend. With 19 sets across 2 farms we managed 3 bobcats, 3 raccoons, 2 opossums, and 1 coyote. After the cold front hit everything in nature holed up and we hardly cut a track for 2 days. I did, however, manage to get LaDonna to ride with me in the truck to run traps one morning. How long you reckon it will be before I can talk her into skinning and scraping in the fur shed? We also managed a double on bobcats. After twice getting a scent post set dug by a grey fox I set a blind set about 3 feet further up the trail in an attempt to catch the grey as he approached the first trap. To my surprise when we showed up the next morning we had 2 bobcats within a few feet of one another! Unfortunately the grey fox is still tormenting us and thumbing his nose at us. His time is coming…

As I set here writing and watching one of my favorite westerns of all time, ‘Lonesome Dove’, I can’t help but chuckle about the scene when the character Deputy Roscoe Brown asks the old Arkansas mountain man if he’s going to have opossum for his supper while the old man is sitting there skinning a ‘grinner’(opossum). The old man wasn’t in the sharing mood apparently as he replied, “You’re not, unless you go get your own!” This morning as I ran my traps and retrieved a coyote and a plump opossum, my uncle Tim asked if he could have my opossum. He said he thought he might cook it for dinner. Since it was Christmas time I figured it was the least I could do - you know…Christmas time and all – Santa Claus is watching. I was in the sharing mood anyway so I gave it to him. You know you’re a hillbilly when your uncle asks for and you give him an opossum for his dinner! Only in the Ozarks! So says the One-Eyed Hillbilly.

Greg Stephens is a 35-year veteran & life-time student of the great outdoors. His column appears weekly in print & online publications. You can email him at gregstephens@one-eyedhillbilly.com. For more columns go to www.one-eyedhillbilly.blogspot.com.

Pinched Fingers & A Mouth Full of Dirt

I got a face and mouth full of salty dirt this weekend. If you’ve ever trapped you’ve been there, if you haven’t been there then you haven’t trapped long enough. Of course, it’s a lot funnier if it’s not you on the receiving end of the flying dirt. Every year it happens to me at least 2 or more times. I got the first time of the year out of the way this past weekend and even though I had two friends along with me, I feel pretty good about it because nobody witnessed the whole unfortunate and embarrassing episode.

Who says a hillbilly can't multi-task? Greg kneeling on a knee pad with the phone in his ear, a 5 pound hammer in the crook of his arm, a cable stake in his left hand and a trap in his right hand.

I was resetting a coyote scent-post set while my buddies, Charlie Pace and Jim McDaniels, sat in the warm truck and visited. Charlie had brought his camera hoping to capitalize on any misfortune involving me getting my fingers pinched in a #3 Victor coil spring trap. Luckily I was able to avoid this embarrassing photo because I didn’t get myself caught and he stayed in the truck. But if he would’ve got a picture of what really happened it would have been even worse.

The One-Eyed Hillbilly making a fox set on the pond dam.

I had just finished bedding the trap and salting the jaw channels for antifreeze when I inadvertently touched the pan and SNAP – the trap went off. Now when a trap goes off and you’re doubled over with your face about two feet away, you’re going to get your face peppered good with dirt, salt, and gravel. If you are a one-eyed hillbilly and that one eye catches a truck load of trap shrapnel, well, you’re gonna fall backwards, spitting and kicking and flailing like a yard worker with a face full of yellow jackets. I involuntarily reversed direction and began the blind man stagger, with my arms waving wildly as I was trying to locate the bed of the truck to steady myself. After spitting out enough salty dirt to make a fine-right mud pie and wiping enough dirt-filled tears away from my face to leave Indian war-paint streaks out the corners of my eye(s), I was finally able to regain my composure. Much to my surprise and relief, Jim and Charlie never saw a thing! Charlie had laid over into the driver’s side door to snooze and Jim was looking toward the front of the truck from the passenger’s side. I had managed to get away with one…thank goodness.

Can't you see the explosion coming? Bent over the trap, the One-Eyed Hillbilly in a good (bad) position to get a face full of salty dirt!

The nature of the equipment involved in trapping naturally lends itself to some very funny situations for the observer and some very uncomfortable predicaments for the trapper. It’s an interesting observation of mine that I’ve lost more fingernails in 3 months of trapping than I have in all the rest of my life! A trapper always has scarred fingers, smashed nails, and rough hands in general due to mishaps. You might as well grit your teeth and laugh because it’s going to happen. And I figure ‘if you can’t laugh at yourself then who can you laugh at,’ so you might as well tell about it. There’s nothing more refreshing than a good laugh in the Great Outdoors.

At the scent post set, pushing poly-fil under the trap pan with a stick. Notice the free jaw up.

Salting the trap jaw channels with the free jaw up. Salt will severely corrode a trap so it's important to use adequately waxed traps. And, remember to always use non-iodized salt because furbearers can smell iodine and will dig it up.

One particularly cold January morning I caught a coyote in my first set of the morning. As I began to reset the trap I forgot to raise the free jaw and, of course, I accidently hit the pan and caught all four fingers of my right hand in the trap. My instant startled reaction was to stand straight up, which pulled the trap to the end of the 18 inch chain, jerking me back over. With one hand in the trap the only choice I had, while stooping over with the trap on the ground, was to push one lever down with my left hand while standing on the other lever with my right foot. Easy enough, right? Under normal circumstances you would say ‘yes.’ But this wasn’t normal - it was 15°, I wasn’t warmed up yet, and I was still stiff. Needless to say I got a Charlie horse in my leg! So, I had a trap on my right hand and a Charlie horse in my left leg and I didn’t know which one to address first. The cramp in my leg made my mind up for me. I fell to the ground and, with the chain stretched tight, I began kicking 36 inch circles around the trap bed in a furious attempt to get relief from the cramp. Now, if you can imagine, this must’ve looked completely ridiculous! Here is some idiot out in the middle of a field with a trap on his hand and a cramp in his leg attempting to get away from both afflictions and unable to get away from either one! If someone would’ve videoed the whole shenanigan we could’ve made a fortune on TV. It’s easy to laugh now but it wasn’t too funny back then!

The last step - adding red fox urine to a scent post set. The trap is bedded and covered to the right of the rock in the low spot.

After the cramp finally let go and I managed to get the trap off my hand I rolled over on the hard ground and laid there on my back for a few minutes stretching my leg and flexing my fingers. Man what I great way to spend a refreshing early morning in the Ozarks! I don’t recommend you try it. So says the One-Eyed Hillbilly.



Greg Stephens is a 35-year veteran & life-time student of the great outdoors. His column appears weekly in print & online publications. You can email him at gregstephens@one-eyedhillbilly.com. For more columns go to www.one-eyedhillbilly.blogspot.com.

‘Poor Bull’ Firearms Deer Season

The draggers getting ready to "read us a page from the Good Book."
Kyle and Troy dragging the 500 pound doe with Dale and Alex adding to the effort.

In mountain man speak, for me antler hunting during firearms deer season 2010 was ‘poor bull, sure.’ ‘Poor bull’ was bad times for a mountain man as opposed to ‘fat cow.’ And to know ‘poor bull from fat cow’ was to know what was what - what was bad and what was good. According to the Missouri Department of Conservation the firearms harvest for 2010 was off about 5,000 compared to last year. Lucky for us my boy Alex is a ‘keener’, or exceptional marksman, and got us started off during youth season or, according to native Ozark mountain man language, we’d have ‘grease hunger’ but empty ‘meat bags’, - meaning hungry for meat but empty stomachs. Thank goodness we still have archery season through January 15th and smoke pole season from December 18th through the 28th. You can bet since you can’t eat antlers we’ll be strictly ‘making meat’ or meat hunting and laying in a good store of meat for all remaining deer hunting seasons this year.

This year, prior to opening weekend I ‘cut for sign,’ meaning, in mountain man terms, to walk back and forth across an area looking for evidence of a man or animal, in this case a deer, passing through. Deer sign was plainly evident to the experienced ‘bossloper’, or hunter, throughout the area in Ozarks where we hunt. Opening weekend the deer were moving fairly well but we were hunting wall-hangers instead of meat and so we didn’t ‘throw smoke,’ or fire a gun, all weekend.

During the week of firearms season my hunting highlight was Wednesday when I saw 3 bucks – a couple of 4 pointers and a spike, and 9 does. Still horn hunting however, I never fired a shot. One humorous highlight to our hunting forays for the week was when my good friend Dale Head’s son, Kyle took a doe about 3/4 mile from the nearest road. He learned a valuable ‘green hand’ lesson that day – never shoot a doe over a few hundred yards from the road. The first 100 yards Dale and I ‘heft’, or lifted and felt the wait of the doe as we drug her down the hill and across the fence. As soon as the descent changed to ascent we decided we would turn over the dragging chore to the hunter. So, Kyle and our other hunting compadre, Troy Oppelt, began the long drag up the ridge. About 100 yards into the long drag, from behind the two I motioned for Dale to ‘Indian up’ or sneak, and grab one of the deer’s front legs and “help out” the draggers so that they would get a better workout. You know me, always concerned about someone’s well being. Apparently Dale was concerned too because he immediately complied as he picked up a front leg and began to add resistance. The two draggers never looked back and kept on walking and talking as we headed up the ridge. Dale, Alex, and I followed behind laughing quietly and hysterically the whole way. It had warmed up considerably from the early morning and we all still had on many layers of clothing. Finally, after several hundred yards Troy wiped his brow and said, “Wow, I’ve got to rest. I’m burning up and this thing weighs a ton!” I didn’t know if they would ‘get their bristles up’ and ‘read us a page from the Good Book’, which in mountain man ‘palaver’ meant to get angry and give us a tongue lashing but we could hold our laughter no longer and we burst out laughing. Needless to say we had to walk in front of them the rest of the way to the truck!

Kyle’s deer was one of only a very few our party harvested. As was reported in many Missouri hunting periodicals, the mast crop was plentiful this year and that combined with the full moon the second half of season and the lack of ‘crimpy days’ in mountain man talk, or very cold days, was another factor in the decrease in harvest this year. Judging by the amount of game we saw the last 4 days of season the deer seemed to be ‘gone beaver,’ which means dead and gone for some time. The weather was perfect but the game was not cooperating. If ‘Aux Aliments Du Pays’ or nourishment from the land, was still the only means for food then our ‘grub’ would’ve been as thin as track soup.

In closing, if you want to keep deer hunting this year, mountain man ‘palaver’ would say any ‘Hiveranno,’ or experienced mountain man, with ‘hair of the bear’ should pack ‘Du Pont’ and ‘galena pills’, or powder and ball in your ‘possibles bag’ making ready for muzzleloader season. The only soup thinner than track soup is powderless Big 50 soup, or getting to the woods with your 50 caliber muzzleloader with no powder – now that’s some powerful thin soup and ‘poor bull, sure’! So says the One-Eyed Hillbilly.



Greg Stephens is a 35-year veteran & life-time student of the great outdoors. His column appears weekly in print & online publications. You can email him at gregstephens@one-eyedhillbilly.com. For more columns go to www.one-eyedhillbilly.blogspot.com.