Youth Turkey Season a Political Statement?

You ever get concerned about our society? This past weekend in spite of the cold weather my son, Alex and I tried to fish. While fighting the cold north wind as we casted into the shore from the boat I had a rather profound thought (1st time for everything!) that forced me to take pause and if you are an outdoors person in the Ozark hills you might take pause too. Did you ever consider that your very life in the outdoors is a political statement to someone? It’s true!

Political just for fishing? Angler Alex Stephens jerking the lips off a largemouth bass.

You probably never considered it but this spring while you are jerking the lips off a largemouth bass with a buzz bait there’s someone in Los Angeles parading around naked as a jay bird in front the a federal courthouse holding up a picture of that poor bass with fat lips from all those hooks. Can you imagine how much time this naked person has spent demonstrating in order to direct attention to the plight of the homeless, the starving, the sick, and endless other needy folks all over the world before they got down to demonstrating for lowly fish lips? I mean, I’m sure these folks aren’t quacks who would devote time to fish lips exclusively instead of addressing the truly urgent needs of mankind first, right? Of course not – they have their priorities right. But, they don’t believe in your right to fish so, believe it or not, when you are fishing, hunting, trapping, camping, mushrooming, horseback riding, or anything else we associate with rural life in the Ozarks, you are making a political statement to someone.

Refreshing your daughter's gun safety knowledge prior to turkey season - a political statement or a way of living in the hills? There's nothing political about this lesson for Ellis and Natalie Floyd - it's all business.

It’s funny but I never really considered my 6 and 13 year old sons as politically active. But, I guess this April as they throw their .410 and 20 gauge shotguns over their shoulders and head for the turkey blind they are making a statement of their own. I reckon there’s a fella in Washington D.C. in front of the Capitol building dressed up as the Grim Reaper waving a sign with a turkey drum stick painted on it and with words that read, “Tofu not Turkey.” I’ll wager the Thanksgiving meals at his house are ones to remember.

"What's politics?" 5 yr old Remington Floyd practices with his BB gun preparing for his first turkey season next year as dad, Ellis Floyd, watches closely.

The precious picture I take of my two young sons in their camouflage with their shotguns prominently displayed at their sides as we return from our first morning hunt will be a political statement to someone too. As I look over our pictures of years past in the Great Outdoors I see the simple and natural Ozark life in the Great Outdoors. I see a snapshot of my children that will hold them forever young for an ever-aging parent. I see my boys learning a heritage and outdoor activity that will provide lessons, food, and exercise for a lifetime. This is not political, rather, just life in the hills. However, to the lady in front of City Hall in San Francisco dressed in a Halloween corpse costume with a red stained tee shirt, holding a sign of a camouflage hunting shotgun with words that read, “No Assault Rifles”, she sees my boys as future Hannibal Lecters. I wonder if the boys sister doesn’t sometimes think the same thing…I know my sister did!

A precious picture indeed! Family friends Ellis, Natalie, and Remington Floyd with their turkey hunting 'assault rifles' just before turkey season 2011.

It was hard to get in the turkey hunting mode last weekend with the turn of bad weather but we will be at the farm patterning our shotguns this weekend. We will have on our camouflage garb in true hillbilly redneck fashion while somewhere on the streets of Paris a fashion industry student will be wearing camo and fake fur with a sign that reads, “No redneck fur killers allowed.” Of course he’s got a leather belt, purse, and shoes to go along with his neon-pink hair.

A redneck hillbilly fur killer? No, an educated and informed participant in Mother Nature (oh, and yes, a hillbilly!). The One-Eyed Hillbilly with an otter at Moose Head Lake.

It is strange to think that just living our lives has become the source of political efforts by people who think they have the right to take away how we live! I find that amazing and alarming. So this year in order to be more politically correct I’m going to keep a low profile with my meat-eating, fur and camo wearing little Hannibal Lecters – I’m not going to let them color their hair pink. We need to keep a low profile.

A camo wearing little Hannibal Lecter? No a beautiful little boy, Coleman Stephens, spending time with his dad learning the ways of the Great Outdoors (and no pink hair!).

Finally, in closing this fun foray into the silly yet very serious world of our way of life in the hills intertwined in politics I would like to leave you with this interesting email that I received that demonstrates how we are part of political thought just by being hunters in the hills:

There were over 600,000 hunters this season in the state of Wisconsin.

Allow me to restate that number.

Over the last several months, Wisconsin 's hunters became the eighth largest
army in the world.

More men under arms than in Iran .

More than in France and Germany combined.

These men deployed to the woods of a single American state to hunt with
firearms, and no one was killed.

That number pales in comparison to the 750,000 who hunted the woods of
Pennsylvania and Michigan 's 700,000 hunters, all of whom have now returned
home.

Toss in a quarter million hunters in West Virginia and it literally
establishes the fact that the hunters of those four states alone would
comprise the largest army in the world.
The point?

America will forever be safe from foreign invasion with that kind of
home-grown firepower.

Hunting -- it's not just a way to fill the freezer. It's a matter of
national security.

That's why all enemies, foreign and domestic, want to see us disarmed.

Food for thought when next we consider gun control.

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.

A Boy and His First Shotgun

I still have the first gun my dad ever gave me. It hasn’t been used in over 30 years but I remember it well. It’s a Montgomery Ward bolt action 16 gauge modified choke shotgun. Man what a prize! As a kid I missed more turkeys with that darn thing than a hound has fleas. The first few years I used it, it was longer than I was tall and it felt like it weighed as much as I did. Truthfully, it’s little more than a boat anchor, but I would never trade or sell it for anything. It and I stood together in front of my dad as he gave it to me when he said, “You can have this one.” It and I grumbled and cried together in the woods when my dad asked incredulously, “How did you miss that one?” As far as shooting is concerned it’s like that old flea-bitten hound on the porch – it’s bark is definitely worse than it’s bite. But, it and I have history. It’s part of the family’s outdoor story.

Passing on the heritage with a shotgun that fits a kid a little better than an old 'boat anchor' 16 gauge bolt action - the One-Eyed Hillbilly, Greg Stephens and his 6 yr old son, Coleman getting ready for spring turkey season.

Things have changed a little over the years. Way back then we got hand-me-down guns that dad didn’t figure he would ever need again. It was always the wrong length, action, gauge, and choke to be of any use. These days the gun manufacturers have figured out that those old boat anchors don’t fit the kids and now they make little guns sized just perfect! You would think that aspect alone would break down many barriers to getting kids into the woods but with the improvement in youth sized hunting guns there is also vastly increased competition for the attention of a child. I have to compete with something called an Xbox 360 and it’s not a .36 caliber rifle of any sort! I just can’t understand playing a video game over going shooting or hunting. Of course the kids say, “Dad, we can play hunting games on the console!” There’s another term I don’t understand. To me, a console is in a car. Anyway, it’s hard to eat a digital turkey…makes real thin soup.

If Dad can call in a turkey then Coleman can put it in the freezer! Coleman Stephens puts plenty of shot in the target down range to harvest a big gobbler.

This past weekend my 6 year old son, Coleman, and I set out to pattern his .410 H&R shotgun for the upcoming youth turkey season. Coleman is pretty easy to convince when you anti up a chocolate shake for the ride to the shotgun range. We went to Uncle Mike’s house out towards the Meramec River. We set up the target and Coleman sat on an old galvanized bucket and used a saw horse for a rest. His little H&R .410 youth model is chambered for 3” shells and we were shooting #6 shot. The first shot was at 15 yards and Coleman poured it on thick! We shot three more times to make sure he was on target. We now know that if dad can do his part and call a turkey into our set, then Coleman can shoot good enough to bring home the meat! No digital soup for us.

A proud and excited young man with his first shotgun - Coleman Stephens patterning his .410 for turkey season.

Youth turkey season is April 9th and 10th and regular season is April 18th through May 8th. This is a great time of the year to get in the woods and hunt turkeys with the kids. During the youth portion of the spring turkey season a properly licensed child can legally hunt with a properly licensed and hunter education certified adult. Hunting hours are extended to all day during youth season. In order to keep a young and fidgety hunter concealed I suggest using a ground blind. The blind provides for maximum concealment along with comfortable chairs and places to store snacks for the hunters (you can even bring in video games…much to my protests).

Now that’s how you pepper a target! Coleman standing beside the target with his .410.

This past weekend as I watched my youngest son practicing with his first shotgun I was reminded of H. Jackson Brown’s book – Life’s Little Instruction Book, Vol. II. One of his quotes is: “Life will sometimes hand you a magical moment. Savour it.” As I watched this little boy bare down on his little .410 and fire I knew I was witnessing a rite of passage for a future outdoorsman. It was a magical moment - a young man, my little boy, with his first shotgun getting ready for turkey season. It just doesn’t get any better than this. And I am going to savour 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.

A Priceless Weekend Fishin’ with the Family

Three motley fishermen in a two-man boat! Dad, with Coleman and Alex…and a dead trolling motor.

Search for morels or go fishin’? That was the question. Last week was St. Pats and historically a great time to start looking through the woods under the elms and big oaks for the tastiest mushroom ever to grace the woodlands. But if the weather hasn’t been right, mid-March is a little too early for mushrooms. This was one of those years when there was not a definitive answer about whether or not the weather conditions had been suitable enough for long enough to produce mushrooms – they might be up but it might be just a tad early. We had had about a week of nights in the 40’s and 50’s and days in the 60’s and low 70’s prior to St. Pat’s weekend so the decision was tough. The kids wanted to fish but I didn’t want to miss the first good mushroom bloom. When it came down to it my wife reminded me that I had promised my youngest son, Coleman that we would fish, so fishing it was. And I think I cut it just right because I heard only a few stories about mushrooms so the big bloom is hopefully yet to come!

Proud fisherman Coleman Stephens with a crappie caught on a crankbait!

Saturday evening we crammed the kids, fishing poles, grill, chicken breasts, and sliced potatoes in the truck and headed for Moose Head Lake for the 2^nd weekend in a row. I had to do some reconstructing of my beaver sets because the high water from last week had filled the traps with debris and washed out much of my trap bed work. Upon arriving, my son, Alex and I reset the traps and helped get the fire going. Mom, Ashley, and Coleman were on cooking detail. Alex and I jumped in the two-man boat and headed up the lake.

Just before the big lightening strike - angler Alex Stephens with one of the many small bass that really got active as the low pressure swept in from the northwest.

There was a low pressure area just west of us as we began fishing. I was hoping that the brewing storm would stir the big fish into activity. Alex was casting an open-faced reel with 10# test line, a medium-heavy 6’ rod and a #11 Rapala Fire Tiger. I was pitching a bait caster with a 6’ rod, 10# test line, and a white-headed single spinner with a chartreuse skirt. No sooner had we started up the north bank than we started catching fish. The water temperature was still a little low so the hits were light and sluggish. You could say that they were more of a drag than a hit.

The old man even got into the fishing groove. One-Eyed Hillbilly, Greg Stephens with a an Ozark lake largemouth bass. Not a big one but better than a poke in the eye...trust me on that!

As the evening’s light began to fade the flashes of lightening could be seen in the distance and the fish activity increased. Just as we started hooking fish consistently the wind picked up, blowing from the north. One big bolt of lightening later Alex looked at me and we both decided it was time to ‘bug out’. Of course we were two hundred yards from the dock and the battery went dead on the trolling motor and we only had one paddle. Each time you made a stroke with the paddle the whole boat shift left or right. It was a ridiculous spectacle as I paddled for all I was worth fighting the north wind all the way and zigzagging back and forth like an over-active stick bait! By the time we made it to the dock I was soaked and out of breath. But it was worth it because we had been on an exciting springtime Ozark fishing adventure and caught several small bass in the process.

If that isn't the grin of a proud fisherman full of orneriness then I don't know what is! Coleman Stephens with a large mouth bass.

The next day turned out to be beautiful and we decided to go again. This time Coleman and Ashley got into the fishing groove as well. After having slower luck with the lures from the day before we switched to a green and blue deep running crank bait and immediately began getting hits. Alex and Coleman caught several bass as we drifted in the wind down the south shore. Ashley on the other hand had a little bit of a challenge casting the open faced reel. You never knew whether the lure was going to land in the boat, behind the boat, or five feet in front of the boat. She didn’t manage to catch a fish but she had fun trying and we had fun watching her! Next time she will hook one I’m sure.

After the storm and a good grilled chicken dinner - the family poses with the dock and lake in the background. A priceless weekend!

As we packed up to leave mom asked me if we might let Ashley drive the Tahoe down the ½ mile driveway to the road since she didn’t get to fish as much as the boys. She is now almost 15 and anxious to learn to drive. So, I put her between my legs with the seat all the way back and off we went. The drive to the road was about as ridiculous as the boat ride back to the dock the evening before – zigzagging all the way! I’m worried about my insurance rates in the next few years… How do you put a price tag on a weekend like that? I’d call it priceless. 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.

Mother Nature at the Helm

There are few things in life more calming than seeing dusk's last light glimmering off a calm wilderness lake. Of course, setting traps while watching the last light is even better! The One-Eyed Hillbilly setting for beaver at Moose Head Lake.

A friend called this past weekend to ask if I could come out to Moose Head Lake to trap some beavers that were making a nuisance of themselves. Always looking for an excuse to trap, I told him I would be there. Saturday evening the family sat on the dam cooking hot dogs while I dug out the beaver’s handiwork from the spillway. Looking at the damage the critters were beginning to inflict I was once again reminded of how, no matter how advanced mankind becomes, Mother Nature will always have the last word and she will always be at the helm, whether we think so or not. A perfect and ominous example fresh on my mind was the terribly tragic earthquake in Japan. Japan is the largest economy in Asia with, arguably, the most technologically advanced society on earth. Yet, in the face of all this advanced technology and society, Mother Nature showed us all that she is definitely in control. With her there are no guarantees outside of survival of the fittest, and we are little more than pawns in the chess game of nature. At best, we should just learn to enjoy the ride and stay in the saddle as long as we can while we’re here.

Make sure those safeties are on! Carefully setting the trigger on a 330 conibear trap, Greg shows his son, Alex how to do it safely.

And enjoy the ride we did Saturday evening. I stood thigh deep on the edge of a beautiful private lake deep in the Ozark Hills. Far from the nearest highway, the only sound outside of the kids playing was that of the peepers in the trees surrounding the lake. After I cleaned out the beaver’s dam work from the spillway, using some of the beaver’s poles I hurriedly built barriers with float poles to guide the industrious critters to my traps. I set two 330 conibears at the spillway, one at the spot where they were climbing out on the bank, and one at the end a beaver run through a weed bed where they were gathering mud for the damming project. It was a great plan. The strategy was right. The implementation was perfect. They wouldn’t know what hit them until it was too late. I was in control and the result was little more than a forgone conclusion…so I thought. But that is for later in the story. We did get one thing right; we got in the saddle and enjoyed the ride on a beautiful Ozark evening.

The last step - the One-Eyed Hillbilly gingerly taking off the safeties at a dive-stick set. Next he will fence the gap with beaver sticks to guide the critter around, down, and through the trap.

LaDonna, Ashley, and Coleman were on dinner duty while Alex and I set the 330’s. I always like to have a second person with me when I’m setting 330’s because it can be difficult to remove the darn thing without help if you accidentally get it on you…and it will happen, trust me on this! As I bedded the traps and removed the safeties, Alex was always within several feet of me waiting with the setters, just in case. Luckily this trip I did manage to keep the whole clan from rolling around in hysterical laughter at me by not getting hung in a trap – it’s one of the few times, too! Just as the last light was reflecting off the calm surface water of the crystal clear lake we finished up the traps and mom yelled that it was time to eat. Perfect timing!

It’s amazing how good a hot dog tastes on the bank of a lake on a cool Ozark evening. As we sat around visiting and eating the kids began fighting over who would be the unlucky person that only got one hot dog. There was enough for everyone to have 2 hot dogs apiece except for one person. And who only got one hot dog you ask? The 14 year old girl – I don’t think so. The 13 year old boy – are you kidding, no way. The 7 year old boy – there’s better chance of Bass Pro running a close-out sale on .30-06 ammo the night before deer season. So, you guessed it, mom and I shared the last hot dog – it just wasn’t worth the fight!

Learning to enjoy the ride like its the last ride of our lives. Folks from the hills enjoying hot dogs on the lake dam after setting beaver traps. Greg, LaDonna, Coleman, and Ashley.

As the weekend came to a close the great plan with the right strategy and the perfect implementation was once again foiled by a Mother Nature curve ball. It rained all night and all the fencing work and trap setting was for not – the traps were under an extra 18 inches of water as the lake rose over night. The beavers were laughing at me. This was just a small example of how Mother Nature is always in control. We had sat on a dam designed to control the natural flooding of water while providing recreation, scenic beauty, and fishing for mankind. Mother Nature introduced beavers, muskrats, and erosion into the equation and in the court of time that strategy will ultimately prevail over this man-made structure. This is a more pronounced example that Mother Nature will always have the final say. Finally, as we pray for the well-being of the unfortunate victims of the Japanese earthquake we are witnessing an ominous display from Mother Nature that human life is just as susceptible, despite our advanced society and technology, as any other life on earth when nature decides to assert her dominance. There are no guarantees so live every day like it’s your last. Get in the saddle and enjoy the ride in the Great Outdoors. 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.

Overwhelmed at the Missouri Deer Classic

USSA works hard to preserve, protect, and grow our great American outdoor heritage. USSA Field Rep, Greg Stephens working the firearm drawing, meeting people, and talking U.S. Sportsmen Alliance at every opportunity.

Have you ever anxiously taken a child to a giant toy store hoping for them to have the experience of their young life only to be disappointed as you watch them stand and stare in a sensory overload stupor? They generally will come out of it after a brief pause and you better have them on a leash or you might not get them to leave the place. This past weekend I witnessed the same phenomenon in Columbia, Missouri at the Missouri Deer Classic. Outdoor enthusiasts from 13 to 93 walked through the front doors and stood there staring with tears in their eyes and drool hanging from their lips.

A real-life indoor fishin' pond made out of wood and plastic - you know we folks from the hills (hillbillies) had to come up with this marvel of modern times! I want one at my house.

They were blocking the entry way doors standing there trying to decide which direction to venture and it was almost embarrassing. You would have thought they had never seen outdoor celebrities, outfitters, guides, outdoor equipment manufacturers, retail outdoor equipment sellers, archery groups, fishing groups, trapping organizations, hunting organizations, food plot specialists, jewelry retailers, specialty food vendors, outdoor seminars, antler scorers, taxidermists, bow fishermen, 3D archers (…whew, I need to catch my breath!) turkey call specialists, cutlery manufacturers, outside wood furnace vendors, portable sawmill manufacturers, and many more all under one roof!

Missouri Show-Me Big Bucks Club provided antler scoring for the general public

And many of the folks wouldn’t have left if the vendors hadn’t started breaking down their booths at 4:00 pm on Sunday. There was just too much to see in this wonderland for outdoors enthusiasts.

Table after table of certified scorers scoring racks brought in from the general public.

We were there representing the U.S. Sportsmen’s Alliance in a booth distributing information about the organization. The U.S. Sportsmen’s Alliance is an organization dedicated to educating the general public about the value of our outdoor heritage in the U.S. while vigorously fighting the anti-hunting, anti-fishing, and anti-trapping movement on all fronts. USSA is responsible for programs such as the Bear Hunter Rights Coalition, Bow Hunter Rights Coalition, International Hunters Rights Campaign, and the Sporting Dog Defense Coalition.

Outfitters and Taxidermist were out in force at the 2011 Missouri Deer Classic.

They are also the creators of the fabulously successful Trailblazers Adventure Day program and the Families Afield program. As we distributed our gun drawing tickets and spoke to the hundreds of enthusiasts as they filed by in the isle, I got a comforting feeling that with the folks from all over this great state there is still a firm foundation for our connection to the Great Outdoors.

On Sunday my wife, LaDonna, was with me at the booth so I had the opportunity to venture out into the show. It was truly sensory overload for an outdoorsman, especially an outdoorsman with only one eye – I couldn’t look around fast enough through the crowd to get a good look at everything! The latest and greatest equipment was everywhere. The outdoor celebrities were sharing their secrets in seminars. The vendors were marking down great equipment to unheard-of prices. If I had brought any money my wife would’ve had to ride on the top of the Tahoe on the way home to make room for all the new stuff I would have bought! But, wisely, my wife didn’t let me bring the money.

The NRA got into the groove by bringing in the Great American Whitetail Collection. There were some freak-of-nature monsters to behold - including the Missouri Monarch.

So I went about talking to all the various outdoor groups that could volunteer at Trailblazers Adventure day programs in our local Missouri schools. We were able to add several archery groups and a bow fishing group as potential participants for our upcoming programs. If you know of a school or organization that could benefit from a Trailblazers Adventure Day program don’t hesitate to contact USSA at 614-888-4868 or online at www.ussportsmen.org These events are fun-filled days for children and adults with activities including, but not limited to, fishing, casting competitions, BB gun ranges, archery ranges, fur and trapping demonstrations, falconry, model airplane flying demos, mountain man demos, hunting demos, and many more. These events are an opportunity to pay it forward and introduce a child to the world of real life interaction in Mother Nature. And, best of all, they are free!

Groups dedicated to disabled and youth hunters were working hard at the event

By Sunday afternoon as the event was winding down I had my mental Christmas list burned into my mind for the next several years. The only thing left for us to do turned out to be the highlight of the event. We had held a gun drawing during the course of the event and met many hundreds of folks in doing so. My greatest hope was that we would be able to give the gun to an enthusiastic outdoors person who would see to it that they passed on the heritage to a child. At 3:30 pm we pulled the name of Raymond Wilburn from Moberly, Missouri from the box of drawing stubs. It was Raymond’s lucky day!

The best part of raffling a hunting firearm is when the winner is a youug'un that will carry on the heritage! USSA Rep. Greg Stephens with lucky winners Raymond and Patrick Wilburn.

When he arrived at the table he had his young son, Patrick with him and Patrick was all smiles. According to Raymond this was the first time that he had ever won such a prize. They chose the Mossberg Model 500 Grand Slam shotgun for their prize and indicated they would be testing the scatter gun this spring turkey season. Congrats to Raymond and Patrick! It does my soul good to see a father-son team getting a new gun that can provide memories for a lifetime. 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.

The Bigger Picture of Life in the Ozarks

Embracing Mother Nature on her terms - in the Ozarks the outdoors is a family affair no matter what the weather conditions. LaDonna Stephens with children, Alex, Coleman, and Ashley at the Current River.

It pains me to admit it but my wife is right – it’s the small stuff. The little experiences make up the bigger picture of life. Last Saturday morning we embarked on a ‘blizzards, breakfast, and brownies (trout)’ adventure. The blizzard was over, the breakfast was hot and delicious, and the fishing was great (the catching wasn’t so good).

After last week’s Missouri blizzard the crew was getting cabin fever. We were forecasted to get an additional 4” of snow on Friday night. So, what did we do? Well, we did what any red-blooded Ozark Mountain family does – we struck out for the Current River on a snowy and cold Saturday morning to cook breakfast and fish for some brown trout in the Blue Ribbon Trophy Trout area at Parker’s Ford. For folks from the hills, it isn’t a matter of having time or having nice weather, rather, it’s embracing Mother Nature with whatever she gives and whenever she gives it. It’s a family affair and it is our way of life. And, if you are taking time to read an outdoor column then you too, most likely, have experienced a similar way of life.

There’s something magical and calming about cutting fresh snow on a country road early in the morning.

Turning off the pavement for the last 2.5 miles to the river, we were rewarded with fresh, virgin snow on the gravel road and a canopy of arching, snow-covered oak trees over our heads. There’s something magical and calming about cutting fresh snow on a country road early in the morning. The only tracks on the road were those of the wildlife that called this winter wonderland their home. It was calm and 24°F at 9:00 am at Parker’s Ford when we arrived.

First tracks down an old river road. Beautiful tranquility with a pang of excitement.

The first task was to build a fire to warm ourselves, cook breakfast and percolate coffee. I jumped out of the truck and immediately began gathering firewood. My main intention for the trip was to fish so I was in a hurry. I asked the kids to help gather wood in order to speed the process. In retrospect this request was probably unfair considering there was fresh snow on the ground. Needless to say there were more snow angels, wrestling matches, and snowball fights than wood gathered.

Building a fire and waiting for more wood - Greg standing by the fire with the kids in the background. Not much wood being gathered back there.

I was getting frustrated with the progress as I watched the clouds breaking up and the sun slowly cresting the steep ridge tops. I knew once the sunlight hit the water any fish activity would likely shut down. My wife, LaDonna, sensed my urgency and frustration and said, “You need to enjoy the small things.” I didn’t listen – there were fish waiting to be caught.

Not much wood getting gathered and not much fishing getting done - Mom & kids wrestling in the snow. LaDonna, Coleman, Ashley, and Alex.

After gathering the wood, starting a fire, placing the cooking rack over the pit, and setting the coffee tripod over the fire, breakfast was finally started. We had sausage, gravy, biscuits, cinnamon rolls, milk and coffee.

Mom cooking sausage for the gravy - that coffee pot isn't going to boil water anytime soon!

The lid for our Dutch oven was used as a baking platter for the biscuits and rolls. Inside the oven the sausage was browned and then the gravy ingredients were cooked right into the sausage. The coffee pot had been hung too high and was slow to percolate. Again, I was frustrated as I mentally watched the sands in the fishing hourglass of time trickling away. As the sun broke through the snow covered canopy and hit our faces, LaDonna said, “You need to appreciate the small things like the sun on your face and the kids playing in the snow.”

Nothing fights off cold like campfire coffee! Greg pouring the first cup after it was finally done percolating.

At around 10:45 am, on the banks of the Current River on a calm, 24°F, frosty morning with the wilderness covered in a 4” blanket of brilliant white snow we finally ate a hot breakfast with hot coffee.

Biscuits with sausage gravy on the campfire - on a cold, crisp winter morning it doesn't get any better than this!

The only sounds were those of the river flowing by and the kids playing in the snow – no cell phones, TVs, highways, or any other sounds of civilization. It was paradise. Yet I was distressed about not getting to fish.

Shining in the sun - the bluff hole below Parker's Ford after a winter snow.

Alex and I finally did get to fish for a few hours starting around 11:30 that morning. We didn’t catch much – the fish were shut down. But that was OK – thanks to my wife I finally realized the fishing was not the singular subject of the morning. It was simply part of the bigger picture of life in the Ozarks.

The fishing was good but the 'catching' wasn't cooperating this late in the morning - Alex Stephens standing at the inlet of Schafer Springs at Parker's Ford on the Current River.

We were pursuing activities derived and refined over a millennium of human participation within Mother Nature (fishing, trapping, and hunting). We were not pursuing the ‘sport’ of fishing, we were participating in nature. We were living by design. We were the analogical bobcat that had not yet caught a rabbit. We were the fox who couldn’t yet locate a field mouse. We, like the bobcat and fox, are a part of nature and nature is a part of us. The fishing, mixed in with the experience of the river, snow, breakfast, kid’s playing, and a Saturday morning wilderness adventure, - those are the ingredients to the bigger picture of life in the hills. To marginalize interacting in nature as ‘sport’ is not only sacrilege to the wildlife, but it also is an affront to our very way of life. Sport you say? Living I say. So says the One-Eyed Hillbilly.

The sun has crested the ridge tops and the fish activity has stopped but, no matter, it's the small things that make up the bigger picture of life in the Ozarks - the One-Eyed Hillbilly and kids, Coleman, Ashley, and Alex at Parker's Ford on the Current River.

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.

Canines or Cats?

It happens at least once a month. In the coffee shop, during a phone call, or conversing with a group of friends the question comes up, “How can I tell the difference between a cat and a canine track?” And it leads to the next statement, “Because I think I saw mountain lion tracks on the back forty.” While somewhat uncommon, these days it is entirely possible in Missouri that you did indeed see a big cat track (the 14^th confirmed mountain lion since 1994 was killed in Ray County last December). However, usually when I have the opportunity to see the track in question, much to my friend’s chagrin, it turns out to be a big canine (dog or coyote).

A big coyote or dog can leave an impressive track but you can easily distinguish a canine track from a cat track by knowing a few key characteristics.

There are some telling characteristics of cat tracks that distinguish them from canines. Unfortunately, perfect tracks are hard to come by – it’s either too dry or too wet or some other circumstance prevents the animal’s track from making a perfect impression. So, it is important to know all the various track characteristics so that you can identify the track by the clues available to you, even if they aren’t perfect.

Size, shape, stride, and claw markings are each tell-tale signs to watch for when looking at a perspective cat track. Claw marks are the first dead-giveaway. If the track at which you are looking shows claw marks above the toes you can be 99.99% sure it is not a cat track. All cats have retractable claws that are not protruding as they casually walk down a path. Canines on the other hand have non-retractable claws that always show in the soft sand or mud. The exception to this rule would be if you were lucky enough to find a track of a cat that was left at a prey attack site. In this case you would usually find sign of a great struggle and possibly drag marks in the area. This would truly be a lucky find!

Canine track – A- protruding toe nails, B- 2-lobed posterior ball pad, C- single lobed anterior ball pad

Paw of a Dent County, Missouri coyote. Notice – very visible toe nails, 2-lobed posterior ball pad, and single lobed anterior ball pad.

Another obvious tell-tale sign distinguishing cats from canines is the shape of the ball pad. The anterior border, or front of the ball pad closest to the toes, is two-lobed. A canine’s ball pad is single lobed by comparison. The posterior side of the ball pad on a cat has three lobes that show in a print while a canine’s print generally shows only two lobes even though the pad does actually have a third lobe.

Cat track – A- no claws, B- 2-lobed anterior ball pad, C- 3-lobed posterior ball pad

Paw of a Ray County Missouri mountain lion. Notice – no visible claws, 3-lobed posterior ball pad, and 2-lobed anterior ball pad.

Next, it is important to try to rule out a good sized bobcat. Like a lion, a bobcat has retractable claws and it is a common furbearer in Missouri. A bobcat has front and hind feet that are approximately the same size. Adult bobcats leave tracks approximately 1½ - 2½ inches long and 1½- 2½ inches wide with a walking stride of 8 to 16 inches.

These small bobcats leave prints not much larger than a typical house cat.

In comparison, a mountain lion has front paws that are noticeably larger than its back paws. An adult’s front paws are approximately 3 inches long and 3½ inches wide and it has a walking stride of 12 to 20 inches. There is also sign that assists the outdoorsman distinguish between big cat sign and bobcat sign such as scat size and tail drag marks in snow.

This larger Missouri Ozarks tom bobcat had a track leading into the set that was approximately 2¼ inches long by 2¼ inches wide and a 12 inch stride – a decent sized cat but still not mistaken for a mountain lion track.

Since a bobcat has a very short tail there will be no tail drag marks after a big snow. So, while cutting for sign in the snow if you find a 3 x 3½ inch cat track with a 15 inch stride and tail drag marks, you just might have cut a rare piece of wildlife sign indeed, in Missouri.

Bear track – easily distinguishable from canines and cats

As I sit here watching the Missouri Blizzard of 2011, I think I’ve just found a good reason to venture out into the snow after it finally quits falling. There won’t be any school and most won’t be able to make it to work, so what more excuse and motivation do you need? Get out there and find the next lucky (or extremely unlucky, depending on your point of view) confirmed sighting. Remember, if the track has large and foreboding claw marks in front of the toes and you are having unnerving visions of a monster mountain lion crossing your property, it is most likely just that – an unnerving vision. Cats show no claws. You’re more likely looking at a very large coyote or a dog track. 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.