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.

Outdoor Ironies on the Osage River

After the lessons of hunting, an outdoorsmen pursues trapping to further round out his knowledge of the intricate workings of Mother Nature. The One-Eyed Hillbilly with a late January coyote.

This past week on the Osage River in Webster County while boiling traps for one last bobcat and coyote trap line before season’s end, as I stared into the fire I was mesmerized into a trance while pondering some absolute truths in Mother Nature. As I watched the fire and contemplated, I found myself once again disturbed at how obvious truths in nature have been twisted into philosophical quagmires and great ironies for our modern society. Trapping, for one, seems to be a human interaction within Mother Nature that can stir the emotions of many a diverse group. For me personally, after hunting, trapping was the next level in the hierarchy of outdoor interaction that taught a mountain man the intricate movements and workings of Mother Nature. If you can recognize and read sign of all the different scats, tracks, and wildlife activities, you can better understand the bigger picture of how game animals and furbearers travel through and use the landscape. And, subsequently, you can become a better and more efficient participant in the circle of life. Isn’t it ironic that as outdoorsmen we drift toward the pursuit of trapping as being more intimately involved in the Great Outdoors yet some mistakenly view the pursuit as inhumane? It is simply the difference between making decisions and acting on those decisions based solely on emotion versus making those same decisions armed with the real facts along with a basic understanding of the real Mother Nature.

Above - Smoke and steam is hard on the ol' eyes...especially when you only have one! Greg pulling traps from the boil barrell.

Below left - Jack Fortney playing 'hot potato' with a trap fresh from the barrel.

Below right - Using a wire brush to clean the traps before boiling.

As with understanding the basic realities of the real Mother Nature, an understanding of the basics is the foundation of any successful trap line. Proper functioning mechanisms and scent control are key when preparing traps. Prior to putting the traps in the boiling pot proper adjustment to pan tension and fine tuning of the firing mechanism is crucial. Cleaning all the dirt and crud from your traps with a wire brush is also important. After cleaning and adjusting each trap, the traps should be bound together and dropped in a large pot of boiling water with an adequate amount of trap dye – this process eliminates scent and stains your traps.

Above - Is it cheating to wax inside a warm shop? The One-Eyed Hillbilly and Ellis Floyd waxing traps ‘in the dry.’

Right - Letting the string drip dry before hanging them up - Ellis Floyd pulling traps from the wax pot.

After boiling your traps and hanging them to dry it is important to wax them. Traps are waxed as a means of lubrication so that they operate as efficiently as possible. The wax also provides a barrier between the metal and any corrosive agents, such as salt, used as antifreeze in the trap bed. Great caution should be taken when waxing traps due to wax being flammable – if your wax boils you should reduce heat! After submerging you traps in wax a few at a time it is important to allow the traps to reach the same temperature as the wax to maximize surface area coverage. Once the traps have heated up to the same temperature as the wax (this generally takes a few minutes) you should remove the traps and let the excess wax drip back into the wax pot. Then hang your traps to dry. These are the basics of boiling and waxing traps.

Getting back to the basics - the basics of Nature will tell you that, by any stretch of the imagination, Mother Nature is not humane. She has no tolerance for judgments based solely on emotion - that is a purely human condition. Nature could be accurately described as the most savagely beautiful show on earth. If you have ever been lucky enough to witness an eagle high in a treetop using his beak and talons to rip the skin from a struggling salmon, you understand. If you have seen a coyote disemboweling a week-old white-tail fawn while it is still alive, you know what I mean. If you have ever watched a bobcat pounce on a young turkey, with the great squawking and feather-flying ruckus that follows, it is quite a beautiful and savage natural spectacle, but humane it is not. Finally, if you’ve seen the last hours of agony of a raccoon with distemper or a white-tail deer with blue tongue disease, you quickly come to realize that any harvest of wildlife by human hands is greatly desirable to that which awaits the animal otherwise. Survival of the fittest, and only the fittest, is very real. In the wild there is no such thing as quietly, much less comfortably, passing in the night.

Outdoor Irony for sure – is it me or are we hypocritical in our dealings with our own species as compared to our laws pertaining to wildlife?

At the end of the night as I sat there staring into the fire I humorously considered the 2 ironies of which I had pondered. The first – that Nature somehow understands ‘Humane’, much like a gazelle thrusting an olive branch to a charging lion and asking him to be nice. Then, I recalled my trip to Kodiak, Alaska last fall. I saw a sign that read: Don’t Feed the Bears. It went on to explain how feeding bears creates adverse conditioning for them and ultimately makes them stop looking for food in their natural environment and start looking for food from man, whether it be in the trash or in the dog’s bowl. Hmm, isn’t that ironic. The government says (correctly) that we shouldn’t feed the wildlife because it makes the wildlife depend on sustenance from human society. Is there a lesson here we should be learning ourselves? I’m just asking. 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.

Mountain lion in Ray County, MO

This is the 12th confirmed mountain lion sighting in Missouri since 1994.

http://mdc.mo.gov/newsroom/ray-county-cattleman-kills-mountain-lion

‘Smell is in the Nose of the Beholder’

The Great Outdoors stinks…at least according to some folks. I, on the other hand, completely understand the old saying that ‘a pig farmer doesn’t smell pig #!@$%!’. As my outdoor experiences have evolved over the past 35 years it has become apparent to me that critters in the wild and modern humans (especially moms and wives) possess vastly different taste in, and appreciation for, smells. But, after you grow up first fishing, then hunting, and finally trapping, you just don’t smell it anymore. It seems ‘ smell is in the nose of the beholder’.

Every young child in the Ozark hills starts out cat fishing with some old stink bait. At 4 years old, the first time you dig your fingers down into a tub of the smelly stuff it is similar to wet play-dough and it sure does stink! You wonder how in the world anything would ever want to eat such an obnoxious concoction. However, after you drag in that first 5 pound catfish you think, “Wow, maybe this stuff isn’t as bad as it smells!” By the time the fishing trip is over you’re eating a sandwich while you have stink bait from the tips of your fingers to your elbows and it doesn’t even faze you – you don’t smell it any more! However, when your mom gets a whiff of you, believe you, me, it will faze her! To her it’s particularly bad after the cleaning chore when the smell of the stink bait is mixed with the smell of warm fish guts. As she gags you’ll just shrug your shoulders and take another bite of your sandwich.

Soon to have stink bait from her elbow to her fingertips, cousin Lydia Stephens with her dad, Lance, cat fishing at Grandma Sharon’s pond. All she needs now is a sandwich!

Next, as a kid you graduate from fishing to rabbit hunting with beagles. Now beagles are some of the most fun loving dogs in the world. They are exciting and fun to watch while hunting. But when a half dozen of them pour out of the pen and jump and lick all over you, your mom won’t like the smell they leave on your Sunday-go-to-meetin’ clothes that you just didn’t have time to change before going rabbit hunting. After you’ve sweated and hunted all afternoon and then let the beagles ride back to town with you in the back seat of the car, mom will really appreciate it when you throw your clothes on top of the other laundry. At the top of her lungs she will scream something like… “all the clothes smell like a dirty, wet dog!” Heck, those clothes didn’t smell that bad to me before they were washed. I think she was just being dramatic.

Finally, if you evolve into trapping your mom or wife just won’t appreciate the intoxicating fragrances of the various lures, baits, and urines that appeal to furbearers. By smell alone a trapper can detect the difference between coyote, bobcat, and red fox urines. He immediately recognizes the difference between a strong call lure and a subtle gland lure. He will even find a good bobcat lure with catnip pleasing to the smell. To a trapper even skunk essence becomes a fragrance of interest that is used in many quality call lures as opposed to just a repulsive smell brought home by the overly-curious family dog. However, if you put this stuff in the family car, even in the trunk, your mom will ground you for a month. And, if you have your own vehicle, your wife or girlfriend won’t even get in it during trapping season (or anyone else for that matter).

Yes, smell is definitely in the nose of the beholder. In the late 1980’s marketing of deer estrus and urine was just catching on as a viable means of attracting bucks during the rut. My college roommate and fraternity brother, Jeff Layman, and I had come to enjoy tormenting a certain fraternity pledge and friend of ours named Chris Gatley. Gatley was a great guy who had a great sense of humor (thank goodness). During deer season one fall we had bought some doe estrus while the three of us were out deer hunting in Gatley’s Jeep. Jeff decided it would be a great trick to pour a small amount of the estrus in the drivers-side floorboard while Gatley was inside his grandmother’s house. It was after dark and the old Jeep didn’t have interior lighting so we weren’t able to see what we were doing and Jeff accidently dropped the whole bottle. Just then Gatley walked out the door toward the Jeep. As the whole bottle emptied onto the floorboard we sat up straight and played inconspicuous. Now, the old Jeep didn’t have carpet or matting, just the metal floorboards. To make matters worse Gatley had exhaust headers on the motor that seriously heated up the floorboards. Did you know that fumes from burning deer pee would burn your eyes? Well we didn’t either but we learned the hard way. We drove 30 miles back to Springfield on a cold November night with both doors open, gagging and eyes watering all the way. He took that Jeep to the car wash and sprayed out the interior and he still couldn’t get rid of the baked-on deer pee smell. The smell stayed until summer! I never did learn to appreciate that particular smell. 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.

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.