Category: Blog

In a recent column by Chip Minemyer, “The Squirrels, a Water Gun, and Me,” he very cleverly identified not only the wildlife that he is attracting to his feeders, but also the challenges posed by the squirrels that constantly consume the fuel that currently it costs gasoline. bird seed that he is buying to feed that wildlife.

During the long COVID-19 blackout, and unfortunately for my heirs, my neighbors, and the charities I used to share my pensions with, I too began this journey.

Chip very eloquently described this squirrel challenge and then went into detail about how he was tackling what can only be described as a hopeless journey to inhibit his successful consumption of those expensive seeds.

One of our close friends saw the numerous feeders I had placed outside our living room windows and said, “Stop spoiling those birds. Let them work to find their dinner like the rest of us. Now, that’s a pragmatist.

Our cat spends her days sitting on the back of the sofa watching their antics and from time to time throwing herself against the window. It’s her way of showing them that they’re just a thin pane of glass away from becoming cat food. (She has never eaten a bird and she is afraid of them).

A friend interrupted his bird feeding when his wife saw rats, not squirrels, feeding in the middle of the seed houses. (Those city squirrels don’t know when to hold them or when to bend them.) There aren’t many things nastier than an arrogant city rat.

Another friend had to hire a trapper (live traps) to help her keep raccoons away from her birdseed and suet. That trip to raccoon hunting is costing him almost as much as her seed, and there’s no guarantee that they or her closest relatives will want to return.

Finally, a doctor friend of mine had to remove the feeders because every night a mother bear and her little cubs would attack her yard and knock over the feeders. Once they had a belly full of that delicious bird seed, like all good bears, they went right back into the trash cans.

Many of my college years were spent at Indiana University of Pennsylvania. On the campus of this school there is a beautiful park-like setting called Oak Grove. That grove was full of oak trees and dozens of cute gray squirrels. Those squirrels became the center of an obsession for my father.

When he visited them, he loved to sit on the benches under those huge oak trees. We would talk about school. He usually ended our visit by handing me a $5 bill, and life was good.

I could tell he loved the fun of seeing the little gray vermin running up and down the trees, playing, eating, and being, well, like a squirrel, as well.

In fact, he fell so in love with their antics that he decided our little town deserved a similar vibe. That’s when he set out to fill our town with gray squirrels.

While visiting my brother, he noticed that the owner’s property was also populated by gray squirrels. So he made a deal with him. Every time a squirrel was caught in a live trap, my dad would drive the 55 minutes to Jeannette to pick it up and bring it back to our yard. Within three months we had gray squirrels everywhere and their dreams came true. Before long, our little town resembled Oak Grove in Indiana.

However, when hunting season arrived, everything changed. Instead of squirt guns, our neighbors started turning these little creatures of God into squirrel skewers.

To finish, I suggest approaching this adventure as a casting for a Disney movie. We have chipmunks, bunnies, squirrels and all kinds of birds that frequent our smorgasbord. Oh, and we found really cheap generic bird seed. (Just not under the rat food section.)

Nick Jacobs of Windber is a healthcare consultant and author of the book “Taking the Hell Out of Healthcare.”

Your first kiss, your first car and your first dog are things you don’t forget. Although it is rumored that I may not remember some things as well as I used to, there is one thing that I will never forget.

My first squirrel.

I would have been about 8 or 9 years old and would be carrying my trusty Winchester .410 Model 37 shotgun (wow, I wish I still had that gun). We were on a late afternoon squirrel hunt close to home and as clear as day I can remember a gray squirrel running on a broken branch right above my head. The range was short, and as I look back my dad must have thought this was a perfect opportunity to catch my first squirrel with the little .410. I can see the shot, the squirrel falling and very jubilant, but after that the fog of time takes over and I lose the scene.

Not too long ago, most of the youngsters east of Big Muddy began hunting small game, and often that meant squirrels. They were relatively easy to find and were a very popular game animal. Most of us at Appalachian Chipmunk hunt like a crazed ferret, we take it seriously. We still have people hunting squirrels today, but nothing like the numbers we used to have. Why is that? Well, I’m going to tell you.

Deer and turkey populations have increased in most areas that your grandfather would not have thought possible. Fifty years ago, in much of the southeast, a deer was a rarity and much the same for turkeys, too. As these animals increased, hunters quickly turned their attention to these larger offerings and paid less attention to smaller game such as rabbits and squirrels.

In short, in the past we hunted small animals because we had many more of these creatures than deer and turkey. This, plus a 150-pound buck with an 8-point rack, or a large turkey strutting around with a 10-inch beard, draws more attention than a 2-pound squirrel. It’s just human nature. It is somewhat remarkable to me that we now have youngsters who have never hunted squirrels, but have hunted deer and turkey in their short hunting time.

There is another reason why I mention this in lamenting the fact that our number of squirrel hunters is very low. Squirrel hunting is a great way to learn the basics of hunting. A good population of squirrels will offer opportunities to learn stealth, stalking techniques, how to find play cues such as cutting when squirrels feed, and simply learning basic skills like patience and sitting quietly. Anyone who has started squirrel hunting will be a better deer and turkey hunter than those who haven’t. Whether you’re starting out as a youngster or introducing an adult to hunting, squirrels are the way to go.

Squirrel season in most states typically begins in early fall (West Virginia is September 8, Georgia August 15, Pennsylvania October 13, Tennessee August 26) and stays open late, often until the end of February. . This gives us many days of hunting opportunities in varied conditions, from warm September days with dense foliage to bare woods in January and February when it can get a little chilly.

Firearm options for squirrel hunting are usually simple: use the .22 rifle or shotgun of your choice. Hunting with the .22 rifle early in the season requires a lot of patience and skill; squirrels are hard to see in the thick foliage and this is where we practice our stalking skills and learn to be patient when waiting for an open shot. For ammo options, I’m a fan of solid .22 bullets, not hollow points, and low brass shot shells for the shotgun might work just fine. If you have a lightweight 20 gauge that you can carry, leave the 12 gauge at home.

As always, we are reminded to be more confident and positively identify our goal and what lies beyond it. Wearing a bright orange color isn’t a requirement for hunting squirrels in most states, but it’s always a good idea. The more another hunter can see you, the better, and wearing a bright orange vest won’t hinder you one bit with squirrels.

Those who have never hunted squirrels may look at them oddly when it comes to cooking and eating squirrels, but it has always been my favorite wild game. You can use just about any recipe you can use for chicken or any minor game, but for me there is only one way to cook a squirrel, and that is deep frying. After carefully cleaning and cutting the squirrel into pieces (front legs, hind legs, and rear end), par-boil the pieces or pressure cook them to ensure they are tender. The pieces are then rolled in your favorite seasoned flour and fried until golden brown; usually the sauce is made in the pan after removing the squirrel parts. I know I’m partial to this method because that’s how my mom fixed them (those were the days). Many squirrel hunters of yesteryear will say that there is only one way to serve squirrel and that is with crackers and gravy. This may be true. If you haven’t tried it (and I feel sorry for you if you haven’t), you’ll have to find out for yourself!

Whether you’ve never been squirrel hunting or haven’t in a long time, you must go. Take a child with you or an adult interested in hunting and rediscover the thrill of stalking a barking squirrel through a hickory ridge on a calm fall morning.

[email protected]

www.gunsandcornbread.com

TOMAH, Wis. (WKBT) — State Farm Insurance donated $10,000 to the Tomah chapter of the North American Squirrel Association on Friday to help the organization finish its all-levels playground.

The donation is part of State Farm’s celebration of its 100th anniversary, when it will award $10,000 checks to two groups in each state.

NASA, which helps seniors and people with physical disabilities enjoy hunting, fishing and other recreational activities, built the playground and shelter at Butts Park in Tomah. However, construction took longer than expected due to the COVID-19 pandemic.

NASA will use the $10,000 to help build a rebar fence around the playground, said Dave Stutsman, the group’s vice president.

“We continue to be amazed at the support,” Stutzman said. “It seems like every two weeks go by and someone else finds out about what NASA is doing and what we’re doing for the community, and then they’re donating.”

Recent news headlines from News 8 Now

Wizards select Johnny Davis with the 10th pick in the 2022 NBA Draft

Long-time broadcast industry leader from La Crosse inducted into the WBA Hall of Fame

A federal court blocks the FDA’s ban on the sale of Juul e-cigarettes in the US.

Judge makes official award of $10.3 million to jury in Depp-Heard trial

COPYRIGHT 2022 BY NEWS 8 NOW/NEWS 8000. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. THIS MATERIAL MAY NOT BE PUBLISHED, TRANSMITTED, REWRITTEN, OR REDISTRIBUTED.

At the end of each turkey season, I like to reflect on what went right, what went wrong, and what I’d like to try differently next year. The most impactful lessons I learn are usually the ones that come the hard way. The lightbulb moments seem to come after screwing up multiple setups, including some that should have been cheats, and walking away empty handed.

Nothing is sweeter than when it finally comes together and you reflect on what went perfectly to make the quest go well. Erase past frustrations and reinforce lessons learned at the same time. While failure is part of the experience, here are a few things to help shorten the learning curve.

Even if it doesn’t scare away the birds in the shelter, it’s a high-risk setup and often the hardest time convincing birds to come over. The birds are together and have a plan, which makes it more difficult to convince a bird to come over. However, if you make the mistake of hitting the roost, all hope is not lost. Keep watching and relocate birds for a mid-morning hunt.

The problem is that after the turkeys fly down from the coop, they tend to become less vocal as the day goes on. So unless you know where turkeys frequent, it’s hard not to get discouraged and feed your growling stomach. Instead, hang in there, listen for any lone gobbles, go to a glass point, and keep hunting through the wood. Just hang in there, take your time and locate the bird that is receptive and willing to play.

In an attempt to combat this issue, I’ve implemented a personal 45-minute rule. If the venue was good enough to warrant a setup in the first place, it’s good enough to invest at least 45 minutes. Just this spring I was at the 40 minute mark and really wanted to move on to a new area. He hadn’t seen or heard a bird all morning. But luckily, I got my tag down before the 45-minute bell. Many other hunts come to mind where the birds no doubt saw my lure scatter and heard my call, but it took several hours to commit. Like a whitetail rutting hunt in November, patience, trust, and time in the field will often kill the bird.

Therefore, the closer we get to a tom before calling, the easier it is for us to make his decision. If the terrain is favorable, investigating your calls is not a heavy use of the devourer’s time and the chances of it coming are increased. If you manage to get close to a tom before calling, it is likely that it will be surprised by the presence of this mysterious chicken and more likely to react emotionally. You also have less time to think about it or get distracted and get out on bail.

Easier said than done, and I find myself in this dilemma every spring. I have a plan before every hunt and I stick to that plan perfectly. I often head to a predetermined location with the expectation of doing a cold calling setup. Upon entering, it seems to never fail; I see a sign for fresh turkey and start to slow down. I then decide to push “just a little more”, in an attempt to get to my location. As I’m sure you’ve guessed, I bump into the herd on the way to that predetermined hotspot. Looking back, you should have heard the fresh turkey sign.

On the contrary, sometimes you find a gobbler who is itching to jog and you know his almost exact location. This is when you need to ditch the plan and commit to that bird with total determination. In this scenario, the devourer seeks company and time is running out. Ditch your plan and take what the terrain and cover give you.

After lunch on our third day, our bus had Price Bell, the sixth generation at Mill Ridge Farm, on board. Her grandmother, Alice Chandler, started the farm in 1962 with 286 acres and four mares, inherited from her father. They told us they bred some of the best thoroughbreds in the world from birth through high school, then sent them to Florida to learn racing.

He mentioned that he has planted 70 trees to replace those lost, and the largest Blue Ash tree in Kentucky is on this farm.

Since 2000 they have sold 36 grade 1 winners. Mill Ridge Farm prepares the horses for sales. There were 115 to 200 mares housed on the farm, at $45 a day for feed and care. However, they own 10 mares. The farm has a staff of 30 to 35 people. We were able to offer carrots to the yearling fillies as they liked them a lot and came to the fence to ask for more.

That night we were greeted by Hallway Feeds, Mr. Bob, Lee Hall and Julia Hall at the Round Barn Stable of Memories.

This four-story barn was built next to the Red Mile Racetrack, serving as a showroom before being used to house race horses. After being restored as a museum, The Round Barn became a unique historic venue for special events. Now it has exhibits above the time. The Red Mile is a horse racing track located in Lexington. The track hosts harness racing, a type of horse racing in which horses must pull two-wheeled carts called sulkies as they race. It is one of the most famous tracks in harness racing and is located in the heart of the Bluegrass Country, an area of ​​Kentucky famous for horse racing and breeding.

Julia Hall wrote: “Our food was very typical of this part of Kentucky. Burgoo-a meat stew with roots in Europe. Originally made as a celebratory stew. People would bring whatever meat and vegetables they had and combine them in large kettles and cook them over an open fire. They would be cooked all day and enjoyed in the late afternoon/evening. Most of the time it would contain game meats that would be abundant in this part of the country. Venison, rabbit were commonly used. Where does the name Burgoo come from? Some say it was invented by a Frenchman named Gus Jaubert during the Civil War, made from whatever wild meat, like squirrel and fowl, he could find as food for soldiers. Others say that it was the invention of freed slaves, who made large lots of burgoo for the sale of cattle. And another theory states that the origin of the dish dates back to the Native Americans, who prepared it as a game stew. The name itself was probably born from a mispronunciation of bird or barbecue stew. However, the common thread running through all these stories is that burgoo is a dish that was created out of necessity or celebration, depending on the origin of the story.”

We also had pulled pork, fried catfish with tartar sauce, cornbread, country green beans, corn pudding, another local favorite. The following statement is from Southern Living magazine in reference to corn pudding. “In southern kitchens, we love casserole, and it’s an indulgent way to eat vegetables, another thing southerners are known for. Made with eggs, heavy cream, a touch of sugar, onions, and lots of corn, a good corn pudding has a smooth, tender texture, like a cross between cornbread and a soufflé. It can lean sweet or savory, depending on how you like it. And because so many ingredients go well with corn, you can flavor this dish in so many different ways.”

The music to dance and listen to was bluegrass, and you should have seen some of our group on the dance floor. They were dancing like teenagers after the delicious dinner and the Kentucky Bourbon. “Shades of Grass” with guitars, violin, keyboard, but no drums. What differentiates bluegrass from country music? Bluegrass is a subgenre of country music with characteristics that set it apart from the country mainstream: the instrumentation is based purely on string bands: guitar, banjo, mandolin, violin, and double bass. There is more emphasis on an acoustic sound. The music is freer and the structures are more complex. Bill Monroe, known as the father of bluegrass music, was born 100 years ago in rural Kentucky. He influenced early country music and rock ‘n’ roll, as well as the tough, lonely genre he created: bluegrass.

The centerpieces were three small pots of red geraniums with samples of Mr. Bob’s Mouthwatering Meat Rub and Hallway Feeds’ “Feelin’ Your Oats” granola. Gold horseshoe balloons with smaller black and white balloons added to the festive evening.

Hallway Feeds General Manager Jeff Pendleton; Director of Sales and Marketing- Anthony Koch; Director of Technology and Innovation- Jared Pendleton; Customer Service Directory: Carly Guinn and Lee’s wife, Stephanie, were introduced. President Mr. Bob at age 92 received a standing ovation when his son Lee, Vice President, introduced him to the group. Julia Hall is Vice President and she organized the nice evening.

The next morning the fire alarm was going off while we were getting dressed, with fire trucks outside. I learned that someone had buttered a slice of bread and then placed it in a toaster with the smoke setting off the alarm.

We visit Golden Age Farm where Wagyu and Angus cattle are raised. We were in the finishing barn with the crossbred cattle (half Wagyu and half Angus). They would be collected between 18 and 20 months of age, weighing between 1200 and 1400 pounds, while at birth they weighed between 65 and 85 pounds. They had been in the barn all winter because of the rain. Fed a grower ration with 14% protein. A mongrel crossed with a purebred Wagyu made a good cross.

The full blood, pure Wagyu, weighed from 55 to 75 pounds at birth, weaning at 400 pounds, since they have a lower growth rate. Artificial insemination is used, with semen purchased from many sources. In ABS, a straw of semen costs $250. Harvested at 30 months for maximum marbling, with a carcass that sold for $8,000, but the feed had cost $2,000-$2,500. Steers begin barn feeding from when they are young to 16 months of age. Harvested at 1,600 to 1,800 pounds, with a 1,000-pound carcass. A Half-Blood will qualify as Prime 75 percent of the time, while a Full Blood will qualify as 100 percent Prime.

They buy hay for fodder, as well as corn and silage. The straw for the beds comes from Thoroughbred farms, and they compost the beds to put on the pasture. It takes about 6 months to compost.

Jean Barton has been writing her Daily News column since the early 1990s. She can be reached via email at [email protected].

Photographer Jerry Rolwes took this photo of a red squirrel in Farragut State Park north of Coeur d’Alene last Thursday. Rolwes said he and his wife headed to the state park hoping to see and photograph bluebirds.

“My wife and I left early with high hopes. We got there and walked over two miles but still haven’t found any bluebirds,” she wrote. “We circled the park and on our way out we came across this little red squirrel on top of a park information screen enjoying an early morning snack.”

extra web: Submit your own outdoor-related photos for a chance to be featured in our weekly print edition and browse our archive of past reader submissions online at vocero.com/outdoors.

Bob Stroud, my father-in-law (Mark Twain-style storyteller and wildlife guru) and I went hunting in my secret forest. The reason they’re secret is that everyone would want to go there if you told them where they are, and besides, they wouldn’t want to mortgage their house to pay the forest fee. We gathered the necessary tools: a BB gun, a single-shot .22 rifle, some ammunition, a forked stick, a very sharp axe, a rock the size of a baseball, and a burlap sack. We were going to get the side dishes for a special dinner.

As expected, there was an eight foot rattlesnake guarding the trail about 25 feet ahead of us. His body was about as thick as a politician’s wallet and the foot-long rattles sounded like a set of castanets. She bared her six inch fangs and jumped up preparing to attack. Bob threw the baseball rock. One ball, that’s all. The snake dropped into the sack.

A little further into the forest we come to the hollow tree that is home to many squirrels. Bob cut a hole in the trunk with the ax and stuck the forked stick into the hole and twisted it. The fork got caught in a squirrel’s fur and Bob pulled it out, snapping its head off and throwing it into the sack. He repeated this technique until the bag got heavy. It is worth mentioning that Bob learned to do this from his father, as witnesses attest.

Going further into the forest, we hear the music of Bumble Bee: the Flight of. The background music for the hunt was just another unique aspect of the secret forest. I’ve never seen Isaac Stern in a monkey before. Bob used the BB gun to shoot the bumblebees out of the air. Since the bees are so small, a BB is the only ammo that allows the bee to remain intact. Most people would think this was an amazing shot, but I had seen him do this many times, so as far as I was concerned it was just everyday hunting. The bees entered the sack.

Next was another simple hunting trick that Bob used sometimes. Nearby was a sweetgum tree about 30 meters high. It was covered in balls of sweet gum. As he knows, if he’s ever seen one, the stem that holds the ball to the tree is about a tenth of an inch in diameter. Bob picked up the .22 and shot the stem of a ball from the top of the tree. As he did, he whistled and a rabbit coming up the hill looked up. The falling gumball lodged in his throat and the rabbit choked to death. There was enough room for the rabbit in the sack.

So now we had the ingredients for an excellent country dinner. First we skinned the snake. The squirrel brains were then extracted. Brains are a delicacy that is fought over at the table. After cleaning the rabbit, the special concoction was prepared, taking care to mix in the bumblebees at the last moment. The snake is said to taste like chicken, but in reality it is more like pheasant under glass. I think it’s the bumblebee seasoning. All that was left was to pop the wine corks two at a time with the decapitated snakehead stopper.

Bob, who now tells stories to the saints, inspired me to write about our hunt. My role was simply to watch Bob’s exploits and carry the sack, as I have no hunting skills. These events were stored in my total memory, photographic memory with zoom and stop action options. Unfortunately, I’m not very good at tagging brain files and I lost the full recovery file. It is not to worry. Back at the house, I wrote notes in no time. However, someone did steal the notes, as often happens in my amazing real life experiences, but I can assure you that what I have written is the unadulterated truth sworn to before a notary public, who certified every word, shook my hand and sealed it. I’ll show you my hand if you want proof.

Christopher Garbacz lives on a lake in Madison County, where a huge, mythical fish from Poland plies the waters (see On A Lake In Madison, 02/7/20, Northside Sun, which chronicles Bob’s fishing exploits).