Opposition: Not Annihilation
By Mike Faulk

According to MSNBC, "Longtime outdoor writer Jim Zumbo saw his career undone this week after he posted a blog entry criticizing the use of military-style assault rifles by hunters. The remark sparked a backlash that cost Zumbo his top-rated weekly TV program, his job at Outdoor Life magazine and his corporate ties to the biggest names in gunmaking."

Somehow, we have to learn how to have a dialogue in our political world without vilifying those who hold a different viewpoint. Demonization of our opponents has got to stop. Dislike for an idea must not mandate dislike for the person expressing it.

The NRA, Remington and Outdoor Life have over-reacted. The power of the purse is indeed one to be wielded to effect positive public change. But these giants in the outdoor sporting world have chosen annihilation over confrontation with Zumbo and his remarkable career as an advocate for the Second Amendment and outdoorsmen everywhere.

Dad taught me "never bite when a bark will do." Perhaps a quarter century of "disagreeing without being disagreeable" in courtrooms across Tennessee has made my voice softer but my advocacy is no less effective.

I agree with Kingsport Times News outdoor writer George Thwaites: "Zumbo did a dumb thing. But evidently there’s a lot of dumb going around these days. We can only hope cooler, wiser heads prevail."

Ironically, those attacking Zumbo the hardest give the anti-gun crowd plenty of cannon fodder. It's a shame. Surely his lifetime of advocacy for that which most gun owners hold dear, the right to bear arms, should count for something. The big picture of Zumbo's career promoting the Second Amendment should overwhelm a mistake of expressing an unpopular opinion in a less than artful way.

I disagree with Zumbo's opinion on the use of assault rifles. I read Outdoor Life. I think Zumbo should be chastised for implying hunters who use assault rifles are terrorists. I own more than one Remington product. I'm a card carrying member of the NRA. But I'm not ready to kill his career.

I treasure our Bill of Rights. I also know in practical application none of those guaranteed rights are absolute. For instance, first year law students are taught that, even though we enjoy a First Amendment right to free speech, no one has the right to shout "fire" in a crowded theatre causing a fatal stampede when there is no fire. So the First Amendment contains no absolute guarantee of saying what you want when you want.

Likewise, the Second Amendment contains no absolute guarantee. I'll defend your right to bear arms, your right to bear an assault rifle, and your right to possession ammunition for them. Don't ask me to defend your right to own, possess, and park in your driveway an Abrams M1 tank or a Stinger ground-to-air missile.

The issue is where one draws the line. I wouldn't draw the line were Zumbo did. But I'm not ready to kill his career because of disagreement with this one wrong opinion. Here in the mountains of east Tennessee, there have been many, many boundary disputes over where to draw the line between tracts of real estate. As a result there have been many fights and feuds. But there have been very, very few 'killins' over where to draw the line.

FRESH SAUGER FOR SUPPER TONIGHT!
By Mike Faulk

Today was a good day. No, today was a great day.

With a weatherman’s prediction of a high temperature reaching the upper fifties, this day had more promise than most February days. We’d each heard reports from semi-reliable fishermen that the walleye and sauger are starting to bite on both Cherokee and Douglas Lakes.

Arising at my usual 5:30 a.m., my trip to the newspaper box was a quick one in that it was a balmy 27 degrees. Reaching a temperature in the upper fifties was going to be a stretch. But the stars were out and the late February sun can do wonders for warming old Mother Earth and all Mother Nature has to offer this time of year – like the little croqouses that were blooming above last week’s skiff of snow.

I baked four biscuits and fried a center-cut slice of Broadbent country ham sufficient to fill each. The thermos bottle was filled first with hot water to make sure the coffee wouldn’t cool down once it was finished and added to the preheated thermos. The collapsible cooler was also filled with beverages, granola bars, three bananas, and potato chips.

Knowing the cold would bite while motoring up Douglas Lake from Swann’s Marina just off Highway 25W near White Pine, Tennessee, I donned my long handles, dressed in layers, and made sure I put my insulated bib overalls and my insulated cap in the truck. The hour and fifteen minute drive was uneventful yet beautiful as the sun rose over the Blue Ridge on this frosty bluebird morning.

Art was backing the trailer down the ramp as I arrived. He had already purchased five dozen minnows. Rapidly, I loaded my things into his Jon boat and paid the attendant the $5.00 portage fee. Art was third in line and there were several trailered boats behind him waiting to launch. We embarked at 7:45 a.m. just as planned.

Less than a quarter mile north of the Interstate 40 Bridge, a flotilla of some two dozen fishing boats was clustered together. We looked at one another sharing the same thought without speaking a word: “the fish are here and we’ve come at the right time.”

But, as we worked our way to the periphery of the unscheduled gathering, disappointment was mounting because all these people were fishing but no one was reeling. Art knew one of the fishermen, Mike Salley, who confirmed our suspicion that nothing was being caught.

We then motored up the lake meandering along the old riverbed. This lake is at its low point and barely out of the river bottom this time of year. Tennessee Valley Authority keeps the lake low to handle flood abatement through the spring. I fired the depth finder to help navigate upstream. At times we had to slow to trolling speed in that the water was less than three feet deep.

Our destination was the sweeping bend near Lake Mile Marker 18. In the upper reaches of Douglas Lake the inflow from the French Broad River is steady and fairly swift running probably 5 or 6 miles per hour. This location is not far downstream from were the Nolichucky and French Broad rivers become one. The cold water (forty-two degrees on this day) from these two streams comes from the high country of the Appalachian Mountains with English Mountain dominating the background immediately to our east.

A couple of boats were there already when we arrived employing the same tactics we intended to try. A high bluff stands sentinel over about 800 yards of this bend. The water depth in this section of the lake ranged today from 8 to 12 feet. We would motor to the north end of the bluff and drift the length of the bend parallel to the bluff some 30 yards out into the lake.

Rigged with chartreuse flies or chartreuse grubs we tipped four-pound test lines with minnows. As we motored to the starting line, the depth finder confirmed a good concentration of fish suspended from a depth of six feet down to the bottom. On our first pass I landed a nice plump sauger that, when laid on Art’s cleaning board, measured just over the minimum “keeper” size of 15 inches.

Over the course of the afternoon we boated four more keepers. As usual, Art caught about twice as many as I did including a ten pound carp. In addition to the five sauger kept in the live well, I’d estimate we caught another dozen fish. The largest sauger was approximately 20 inches and weighed nearly two pounds.

By mid-afternoon, there were fifteen boats using the same tactics we were. Each would motor to the head of the line and drift the length of the bluff. It appeared everyone was catching fish. The one boat having the most success had eleven keepers. The two gentlemen in it were using a split-tailed chartreuse grub about four inches long.
Late in the afternoon we observed a nest and two bald eagles on the bluff above. The birds were quiet and not noticed as long as there were fishermen on the bank. Once the bank emptied, we started hearing these raptors. Although I didn’t see it happen, I suspect the two eagles were carefully watching this section of the lake for a meal of injured or discarded fish.

We trailered the boat at about 4:30 pm and used Art’s 12 volt fillet knife to clean the mess of sauger that were each full of eggs. After dividing our treasure, we were on our ways home by 5:00 p.m. Art took six fillets and I took four. Three of mine were washed and stored in my freezer.


The fourth and largest fillet was cut into three pieces, breaded in Andy’s Fish Breading, and fried in pure virgin olive oil. I had some cold slaw in the refrigerator. I made a serving of macaroni and cheese and ate the most delicious fruits of my “labors” from this day.

I’m kicked back in the recliner. My tummy is full. I’ve just reviewed the photographs taken today. Good food, good friends, and abundant bounty from God’s magnificent creation – today was indeed a great day.

Duck Gumbo and Beer Bread
by Mike Faulk

This cold, snowy Sunday afternoon will warm you from the inside out by eating duck gumbo and beer bread. It's the perfect meal with a skiff of snow on the ground, dainty yellow crocuses peaking just above the snow line, and the Daytona 500 on the tube.

Duck Gumbo

4 slices of bacon
1 cup chopped onion
1/4 cup of flour
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon pepper
4 cups of chopped cooked duck
2 cups of shrimp
2 cups of cooked tomato
1 cup chopped green onions
1 cup parsley
2 tablespoons file powder
1 pint of shucked oysters
6 cups of cooked rice
8 cups of water

Brown bacon in stock pot; add chopped onions; saute until light brown. Stir in flour and 8 cups water, salt and pepper; Mix well. Add duck, shrimp and tomatoes. Cook for 20 minutes. Remove from heat. Add green onions, parsley, file and oysters. Serve over rice. [serves 8 - 10].

Beer Bread

3 cups self-rising flour
2 tablespoons sugar
1 room temperature 12 oz. beer

Pre-heat oven to 350 degrees. Grease bread pan. Mix ingredients and allow bread to rise 30 minutes. Bake one hour.

Post-Duck Season Blues: Here and Canada, Too
by Mike Faulk

Duck hunting is the type hunting I like best. There are few humans. The ones I do encounter are the ones whose company I really want. It's usually done on the water. It's cold and I feel most a live when my lungs fill with cold, crisp air. The sound of wingbeats makes my heart race. The smell of burned powder, nearly as good as that smell from using a muzzleloader, invigorates me. In calling ducks, one must establish a true connection with the quarry. Morning fogs are magical. Sunrises and sunsets are spiritual.

I'm always melancholy after the close of duck season. As I've entered my 50's, I wonder how many more duck seasons the Good Lord will let me enjoy. My health is terrific. But now, I can't help thinking of my own passing with the passing of each duck season. Annually at this time, I resolve to hunt more and work less the next season.

While my main duck gun is an over-and-under [I was accused many years ago of wasting the first shot of the three shots held in my semi-automatic shotgun], I still use my Model 1100 Remington with the full choke and thirty inch barrel for goose hunting. It's a special gun because it was a Christmas gift from my wife given at a time in our lives [law school] when we really couldn't afford such things.

I read today that Delta Waterfowl has successfully persuaded the Canadian Legislature to disregard attempts by the left-wing lugnuts of the Canada Liberal Party to ban the personal use of semi-automatic firearms. "This is great news for Canadians as well as sportsmen from the United States who hunt in this country," said Delta's Vice President of Policy for Canada Dr. Robert Bailey, who played a key role in organizing opposition to the resolution, in a February 6, 2007 press release.

To the unaware, the banning of a "semi-automatic firearm" may not seem like such a radical step toward controlling violence. The casual reader hears the expression "semi-automatic assault rifle" in anti-gun literature; and, from the use of the words "semi-automatic", some make the illogical leap to all "semi-automatic" weapons. Marketers sometimes call it "bait and switch".

Surely those in positions to make decisions regarding firearms will be educated consumers and make informed choices on gun legislation rather than falling, as the Canucks nearly did, for such bait-and-switch tactics. Surely the season will never come to an end on the Bill of Rights and particularly the Second Amendment to our Constitution.

Duck Season's Over But There's Still Plenty to Do
By Mike Faulk

Another duck season has come to an end. Here's a suggestion for spending some more time on the river or around the lake or pond. It's time to start thinking ahead to the early wood duck season next fall.

There is no substitute for taking care of our conservation duties here at home. Placing and maintaining wood duck boxes in the first two weeks after the end of duck season will serve dual purposes of practicing conservation locally and providing more birds for the early fall hunt. Wood ducks begin breeding and nesting here in the Tennessee valley in mid-February.