Bo and I stepped outside into a growing gray dark-thirty luster this morning. I have often said, God only gives you so many opening days. On this opening morning for a number of Wisconsin hunting seasons, I heard one salvo probably coming from some more-ambitious-than-I hunters on the river three miles away.
The weather guessers had predicted rain today. Nearby I could hear birds just starting their grocery shopping. A hunting crow called for more air support from his kind across the coulee, causing a minor hullabaloo among some blue jays in our woods.
I took it in for a few minutes. I had to smile when a thought scurried across a path in the back of my mind like a startled squirrel, “I could strap on my .22 and take a stroll up the ridge in search of a couple bluff lobsters (a nickname coined by Mary Hochhausen of Cassville back in the day) for the upcoming Squirrel Picnic pot.
” That thought was overcome by the need for some fresh coffee. Back inside, I checked the weather station that showed a warm 63 degrees. Too warm for me to go hunting.
A bit later at the kitchen table, Ellen said, “Oh my, it’s beautiful!” and pointed across the coulee at what proved to be a bumper to bumper rainbow that any leprechaun would have been proud of! I grabbed my camera and got outside barely in time to get a couple shots of the rapidly fading phenomena. It was beautiful over the sunlit hardwood treetops at the top of the hill. Ma Nature must have put on her Badger shirt back to front this morning as it started raining a few minutes later.
El and I toured down to Burton yesterday (Friday) for lunch at the Burton Tavern with family. (I recommend the grilled salami sandwich.) Afterwards at her sister Barb’s house, Ellen’s sisters Kathy and Barb helped her try on her dress, sweaters and such for the upcoming wedding of mountain kids Mark and Jen.
Meanwhile, Chuck and I took a Ranger ride down to the Boice Creek bottom that crosses their land. Chuck had a bucketful of unfortunate fresh out-of-lives farm feline found dead on Dutch Hollow road in front of their place to take out to a final resting place in the woods. We toured places that hold lots of memories for me.
For many gun deer season’s opening days, I used to take a stand on their creek bottom. I managed to harvest a few whitetails there, too. Our first chocolate lab Maggie (1990-2004) and I hunted pheasants there with Barb, and Chuck and I got out for a few tree rat hunts together (I think I like the term bluff lobster better than tree rat).
Chuck showed me some of the deer stands his son-in-law Brent Flesch has up and an “Indian fort” of dead tree limbs started by his grand kids. We four-wheeled around some new trails before heading back to the ranch. Until next time, get out—I opted to tap this out at the kitchen table instead of braving the rain and mosquitoes in the woods this morning.
If it cools off a tad and I can find enough lost ambition, I might get out this week. Enjoy..
