Yum! Yum! Little Game Gumbo is "Malicious"!

By Mike Faulk

When Andy was just a tyke, he did his best to use "big" words like Mom & Dad. Frankly, his vocabulary then, as well as now, was astounding. What he had in quantity, he lacked in elocution - claiming a tasty dish was "just malicious" rather than "delicious".

Over the weekend, I cleaned the last of the prior year's game from the freezer. Using Scott Leysath's recipe called "Little Game Gumbo" found in the free Wild Game Recipes booklet on TWRA's new website, the meat was put to good use.

The recipe led to a "malicious" pot of gumbo just in time for the cooler weather. I highly recommend this little booklet for all who wish to put one of my Dad's favorite expressions ["Don't kill it if you're not going to eat it"] to practical application.

The Rut is On!

By Mike Faulk

This old boy threw caution to the wind chasing three does into the mouth of the sluice and to within 40 yards of my position. He tried to keep all three rounded up but paid special attention to the largest doe which kept moving away from his entreaties.

Earlier, at daybreak, I had watched three other does run and stop and run and stop. True to form, they were being chased by a sizable 9 point buck that displayed a swollen neck and considerably more caution that the buck pictured above.

Deciding the 5 X 4 was a shooter, I lowered my binoculars, retrieved my Remington 700BDL, and located him in the Leupold 4X12 power scope.

Alas, I remembered loading the magazine but had not chambered a round. Sure enough, the faintest metallic click made as that shell was loaded spooked him. With self-disgust, I watched as he and his harem ran away.

I could hear Dad's voice, "Son, that's why they call it hunting instead of killing."

The Biggest Wildcat I Ever Saw!

By Mike Faulk

Seeing a bobcat during daylight hours has been the rarest of sights during my fifty plus years in the woods. Two times before Sunday afternoon have I ever seen these feline predators. During each prior sighting the cat was on the move and I barely got a peak at the animal.

My hunting buddies have seen a few on Strum Island - especially so in the last two or three years. While I'm no biologist, I suspect the resurgence of wild turkey as a good food source has something to do with the increasing incidence of sightings.

Sunday was different.

When first spotted, I thought a coyote was eastbound along the river's edge headed into the sluice. I marveled at the beauty of this coyote's coat as the afternoon sun reflected brightly off its fur. That observation was odd in that all coyote I ever saw were a bit mangy looking.

As the cat drew near, it's movements told me it was no coyote. Stop and stalk was it's method of operation.

I had time to get the camera but the automatic focus just couldn't keep up with the cat as it prowled along the bank. The two pictures I took were at 75 and 60 yards. By estimation, I'd say this kitty exceeded 30 and may have been approaching 40 pounds.

Not a minute after it left my field of vision, we heard a mad scramble in the dried leaves and turkeys clucking wildly. I'm guessing puddy cat had his Thanksgiving turkey a few days early!

Wacky Weather: Things are Weird in the Woods

By Mike Faulk
This whole year has been an odd ball. The late April freeze did a number on the flowering plants and fruit trees. I lost a white pine and a cherry tree at Strum Island. The peach, pear, apple and persimmon trees made it but didn’t bear any fruit. Add a prolonged drought to the witch’s brew and we have one weird fall.

It reminded me of an article I read about the year in Tennessee just before the cataclysmic earthquakes of 1811 and 1812. The Mississippi and Ohio valleys had unusually heavy flooding in the summer months. The fall followed with tornadoes and unusually violent hurricanes. The greatest oddity was the mass exodus of thousands and thousands of squirrels from the north to the south with many drowning in the Ohio River.

While I saw no mass squirrel suicide, this weekend was weird in other ways.

Muzzleloader season normally means rutting activity by deer. Certainly none was observed this weekend. The only buck seen was a little four pointer traveling with a larger doe and her yearling. He showed no sign of a call from the wild.

By the second week of November the leaves are off the trees and the under/over growth has been flatted by a few frosts and the beginning of our wet season. Not so this year. In fact, it’s so peculiar to see so many green leaves still on the trees. The net effect is limited visibility.

Saturday I saw nine deer – a fair day by normal standards on Strum Island. In that we harvested a couple of deer during bow season, my attention was concentrated on bucks. Property with lots of does when coupled with the rut makes for a hot hunting hole. The mornings have certainly been typical with overnight low temperature near freezing. Alas, the boys weren’t to be seen.

Yesterday, I saw nothing. The wind made hearing movement impossible. With all the leaves waving and flickering, my eyes are over-stimulated as I write this.

A small opening within bow range with leaves enough for natural camouflage might just be the medicine to get past this goofy fall weather. I’m thinking a switch back to the bow using early October tactics might be more fruitful.

Now I read it may snow this week - within days of an October record high temperature. Weird.