The entire aspect of a day’s hunt touches every one of your senses. The fresh smell of damp leaves as your boot presses the edge of a creek bank when you cross a mirrored image of rolling water, the feeling of a slow breeze on a warm day drifting down the back of your collar or the sight of heavy steam flowing in front of you as your breath escapes into a cold winter morning. The feeling of anticipation at first light as the sun slowly creeps just above the tree tops while you wait for the sun’s warmth to reach you as you sit in the cold. The hunt itself is made up of more than just a simple harvest but essentially all the surrounding events that lead to the end result.
I believe that it is the obsession of the harvest that ultimately drives every hunter. The idea of harvesting game, the opportunity of the shot and the excitement of the moment. Hunters dream, talk, plan and tell the stories of their hunts. I have days when my obsession to harvest game drives me to study the woods in extreme detail and spend time in heavy thought of how game is moving through the woods. Questions often haunt me as I try to determine what they are eating, where are they going and how can I be in the right place at the right time. Once I start thinking on those terms I usually always harvest game. There are other occasions where I become so relaxed in the enjoyment of the woods that I spend all my time just admiring the amazing scenery and the changes in the outdoors. This state is often found when I already have a freezer full of game.
Hunting can often test you patience and bring on frustration at all levels. I remember many days in the early part of the season trying to remain totally still while the sound of one or two small mosquitoes filled my ears with total aggravation. The hardest part is remaining patient and trying not to move while the attacking insects attempt to expose your presence. Another great feeling of frustration happens when spending a long time walking quietly only to accidentally snap a twig which sends something bolting through the woods far away from you. Most likely the most difficult frustration of all can be taking a shot at your desired prey only to just barely miss the animal as your watch helplessly while it continues out of sight.
All the frustrations and difficulties eventually bring on the amazing moment when your hard work pays off. The exciting moment when you see your prey, make the shot and are able to finally take possession of your harvest. The celebrations of the moment and the incredible memories often seem to stay imprinted in my thoughts for years.
The experiences of hunting can leave great memoires to reflect upon and shared stories to pass on for generations. The obsession of hunting is something that only each hunter can truly feel and know but sharing our obsession through stories and the day’s adventures is what builds the fires in others. Take the time to share the obsession so others can have the opportunity to enjoy the experience.
Story by Hampton Brewer AKA VAOUTDOORSMAN
Friday, February 17, 2012
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Hunting and the stories we share
I have often found that the hunting stories told by our friends and other hunters add to the thrill and anticipation of the hunt. I remember as a young man when first introduced to hunting I was truly amazed by the hunting stories of others. I would intently listen to every detail of every word. Whether in truth, exaggeration or my wonder of reality the detailed story of a day’s hunt or harvest by another hunter filled my dreams with excitement. I believe that sharing hunting stories with kids and first time hunters is an essential to building their desire for the great tradition.
I guess once you become a serious hunter the love for our obsession makes all of us great story tellers. The details of the events, the descriptions of the weather and scenery, the laughter we share and the explanation of the success of the harvest give passion to all our memories. I make it a point to be as honest as possible when telling my stories as I have no real reason to exaggerate my experiences. I have been blessed with some amazing harvests, a lot of missed opportunities and a lot of days just enjoying the woods.
I've often found that grandfathers seem tell the best stories about that wise old buck that always escapes all the hunters in the area. When you’re hunting in that area your dream is to be the one guy to bring out that legendary buck. The names they call them like the Gray Ghost or Barney Buck often add to the image of their size and their ability to escape. The idea of the legendary monster buck that lies down in a ditch and watches dogs run by or makes a complete circle behind you as you pass quietly through the woods. These are the stories we share on the tailgate.
My first shot at a deer left me with an amazing memory, provided a wise lesson and the understanding that yes they do get away, especially if you miss. This is my story of my first shot at a deer. When I was seventeen my friend and his dad had a small farm in Lunenburg County, Virginia. They spent their Saturday’s deer hunting with their neighbors in a small hunt club. They were a great group of guys with some excellent hounds and a lot of areas in the county to hunt. This of course was long before tracking collars, cell phones, computers and CBs were the
best option for outdoor communication.
I was excited to be invited for a day’s hunt with my friends and their neighbors. We headed out early one morning for a short meeting to discuss which block of woods to hunt and who would go where. The location was decided and the guys began to circle a small block of woods. I rode down a red clay logging road in an old army jeep with my friends neighbor and my friend’s dad. The neighbor who was in his sixties was most likely one of the greatest hunting story tellers I had ever met. He had a positive way of building your excitement and making you feel you were going to get a deer right away. He stopped the jeep and told me to head down the road and pointed toward a low area at the bottom of a hill. He said that’s a great spot and the bucks come right through there all the time. When you walk down the hill go to the right just a little and you’ll get a nice buck.
My friend’s dad chose a spot at the top of the hill just above me. He was a seasoned hunter who’d had a lot of harvests under his belt and is to this day still a true marksman and great woodsman. I walked down the slightly damp red clay logging road and could feel the clay pulling at the bottom of my boots in a suction type grab as I moved further down the road. I found a spot on the opposite side of the logging road and stepped back a short distance into the woods. This allowed me the ability to look across the road toward the woods in front of me. I was armed with an old Harrison and Richards single shot 12 gauge. My dad had bought the single shot shotgun for me with the idea that I would learn the value of the first shot.
I looked across the woods into an excellent view of an open spaced mix of small hardwood trees and pines. The area was very easy to see through as the ground underneath the trees had slight rolls, hills and turns and was nothing like the flat ground I was use to back home. The small hills and rolls enhanced the amazing scenery of the woods. On the far side of the woods I could hear the hounds long range cries as they had been released from their containment of the truck bed.
I watched the woods in front of me intently for any movement. After a short while I began to hear a sound through the woods in front of me. A steady rhythmic type noise sounded out loudly as I heard tish tish echoing past the trees just out of sight. I immediately realized that something was moving quickly as it crunched the leaves on the forest floor. As I looked through the woods in front of me I saw movement coming directly toward me. I thought what is that? In an instant I realized that it was a buck and he was following a path through the woods straight for me.
I quietly pulled my hammer back as I could feel the rush of the excitement adding a bit of shakiness to my hand. I raised my gun to my shoulder as the deer began to move closer. Being new to deer hunting and not planning well I made my first mistake. When I raised my gun my arm hit a tree behind me which sent the sound of my error echoing across the woods toward the large buck. The buck was immediately put on alert. I can remember watching him as if in he was in slow motion as he came to a complete stop and basically slammed on the brakes. He looked directly at me for a moment and made a sharp turn to my left. I squeezed the trigger on the shotgun and the sound of the shell’s release broke the silence all around me.
The buck’s speed increased by volume as he continued on toward the logging road in front of me. His advance was no longer straight for me but about twenty yards further to my left. He was heading toward the logging road and he was definitely going to make the crossing. I fumbled nervously into my pocket for other shell and loaded it quickly as the buck continued his fast advance through the woods. Before I could take the second shot he left two perfectly placed tracks in the center of the red clay road and leapt out of sight as I stood in disbelief. I remember saying I can’t believe I missed him!
My friend’s dad had a call to nature just before the buck had come through. When he heard my shot as a new hunter he knew very well I most likely missed. With his pants and underwear down to his ankles he stood up with his shot gun awaiting the buck in case it headed toward him. Talk about a dedicated hunter. The wisdom I gained from my hunt was to make sure you always have plenty of room around you before you raise your arm, to hone your shooting skills before the season, to never underestimate the wisdom of a buck and always know another hunter is waiting if you miss no matter what.
Story by Hampton Brewer AKA the VAOUTDOORSMAN
I guess once you become a serious hunter the love for our obsession makes all of us great story tellers. The details of the events, the descriptions of the weather and scenery, the laughter we share and the explanation of the success of the harvest give passion to all our memories. I make it a point to be as honest as possible when telling my stories as I have no real reason to exaggerate my experiences. I have been blessed with some amazing harvests, a lot of missed opportunities and a lot of days just enjoying the woods.
I've often found that grandfathers seem tell the best stories about that wise old buck that always escapes all the hunters in the area. When you’re hunting in that area your dream is to be the one guy to bring out that legendary buck. The names they call them like the Gray Ghost or Barney Buck often add to the image of their size and their ability to escape. The idea of the legendary monster buck that lies down in a ditch and watches dogs run by or makes a complete circle behind you as you pass quietly through the woods. These are the stories we share on the tailgate.
My first shot at a deer left me with an amazing memory, provided a wise lesson and the understanding that yes they do get away, especially if you miss. This is my story of my first shot at a deer. When I was seventeen my friend and his dad had a small farm in Lunenburg County, Virginia. They spent their Saturday’s deer hunting with their neighbors in a small hunt club. They were a great group of guys with some excellent hounds and a lot of areas in the county to hunt. This of course was long before tracking collars, cell phones, computers and CBs were the
best option for outdoor communication.
I was excited to be invited for a day’s hunt with my friends and their neighbors. We headed out early one morning for a short meeting to discuss which block of woods to hunt and who would go where. The location was decided and the guys began to circle a small block of woods. I rode down a red clay logging road in an old army jeep with my friends neighbor and my friend’s dad. The neighbor who was in his sixties was most likely one of the greatest hunting story tellers I had ever met. He had a positive way of building your excitement and making you feel you were going to get a deer right away. He stopped the jeep and told me to head down the road and pointed toward a low area at the bottom of a hill. He said that’s a great spot and the bucks come right through there all the time. When you walk down the hill go to the right just a little and you’ll get a nice buck.
My friend’s dad chose a spot at the top of the hill just above me. He was a seasoned hunter who’d had a lot of harvests under his belt and is to this day still a true marksman and great woodsman. I walked down the slightly damp red clay logging road and could feel the clay pulling at the bottom of my boots in a suction type grab as I moved further down the road. I found a spot on the opposite side of the logging road and stepped back a short distance into the woods. This allowed me the ability to look across the road toward the woods in front of me. I was armed with an old Harrison and Richards single shot 12 gauge. My dad had bought the single shot shotgun for me with the idea that I would learn the value of the first shot.
I looked across the woods into an excellent view of an open spaced mix of small hardwood trees and pines. The area was very easy to see through as the ground underneath the trees had slight rolls, hills and turns and was nothing like the flat ground I was use to back home. The small hills and rolls enhanced the amazing scenery of the woods. On the far side of the woods I could hear the hounds long range cries as they had been released from their containment of the truck bed.
I watched the woods in front of me intently for any movement. After a short while I began to hear a sound through the woods in front of me. A steady rhythmic type noise sounded out loudly as I heard tish tish echoing past the trees just out of sight. I immediately realized that something was moving quickly as it crunched the leaves on the forest floor. As I looked through the woods in front of me I saw movement coming directly toward me. I thought what is that? In an instant I realized that it was a buck and he was following a path through the woods straight for me.
I quietly pulled my hammer back as I could feel the rush of the excitement adding a bit of shakiness to my hand. I raised my gun to my shoulder as the deer began to move closer. Being new to deer hunting and not planning well I made my first mistake. When I raised my gun my arm hit a tree behind me which sent the sound of my error echoing across the woods toward the large buck. The buck was immediately put on alert. I can remember watching him as if in he was in slow motion as he came to a complete stop and basically slammed on the brakes. He looked directly at me for a moment and made a sharp turn to my left. I squeezed the trigger on the shotgun and the sound of the shell’s release broke the silence all around me.
The buck’s speed increased by volume as he continued on toward the logging road in front of me. His advance was no longer straight for me but about twenty yards further to my left. He was heading toward the logging road and he was definitely going to make the crossing. I fumbled nervously into my pocket for other shell and loaded it quickly as the buck continued his fast advance through the woods. Before I could take the second shot he left two perfectly placed tracks in the center of the red clay road and leapt out of sight as I stood in disbelief. I remember saying I can’t believe I missed him!
My friend’s dad had a call to nature just before the buck had come through. When he heard my shot as a new hunter he knew very well I most likely missed. With his pants and underwear down to his ankles he stood up with his shot gun awaiting the buck in case it headed toward him. Talk about a dedicated hunter. The wisdom I gained from my hunt was to make sure you always have plenty of room around you before you raise your arm, to hone your shooting skills before the season, to never underestimate the wisdom of a buck and always know another hunter is waiting if you miss no matter what.
Story by Hampton Brewer AKA the VAOUTDOORSMAN
Sunday, April 10, 2011
A slow start becomes the hunt of a Lifetime
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Thursday, January 27, 2011
A few days of deer hunting in November
My brother in law Dennis joined me at my cabin on Monday evening. Dennis was awaiting surgery on his leg and spent the afternoon limping through the woods on an injured knee. Talk about an obsessed and dedicated hunter. He even drove three hours to the property.
We had a nice afternoon of hunting yet rain worked hard on our comfort levels while we hunted through the evening until dark. The rain seemed to keep anything from moving throughout the evening and we headed to the cabin for some relief. We spent the night relaxing in the cabin with some great conversation while exchanging stories from our youth. The cabin was warm and excellent to sleep in other then the occasional interruptions of our snoring exchanges.
The alarm clock woke us around 5:00 a.m. on Tuesday morning. We enjoyed some hot coffee and short breakfast heated on a small camping stove. We left the cabin for a cool downhill walk to our morning stands. Darkness blanketed the woods as I made my way to my stand just a short distance from the river. I followed a series of white round reflectors which seemed to blaze back at me from my headlamp as I passed through the dense dark woods. The reflectors lead me to the edge of a small flowing creek. As I crossed several rocks the water broke the silence of the woods by filling the area with the sound of a pouring sensation as it rolled across the rocks. The light from my head lamp sparkled on the ripples of the rolling water as I passed over the reflections.
I advanced up a steep hill and found the base of my stand. I reached out to find the dampness of the ladder which was a cold wet reminder of the heavy rain the day before. Once settled in the stand I watched the woods around me as the blackness began to transform to a light shade of gray and the trees appeared as black shadows. Even though I had plenty of sleep I could feel my eyelids dropping on occasion as I relaxed in the peacefulness of the woods. My eyes cracked opened slowly as the dark shadows of the trees began to show their detail and the forest floor became apparent. As I scanned the woods around me I was drawn immediately to a slight movement at the bottom of a deep ravine beside my stand.In an area which appeared to be fifty feet below my stand the small creek pushed steadily toward the river in a mixture of clear and white bubbling water. At the edge of the creek I noticed a slow movement. As I watched carefully I could make out what appeared to be several legs of an animal. The animal’s body was entirely hidden from view by small saplings and hollies. The opposite side of the woods rose upward from the creek bottom and was easy to see through as mature hardwoods were widely spaced allowing a great distance of sight. The creature stepped forward past the hollies out into the open only to present to complete outline of a deer.
Oddly enough the deer placed its nose to the ground like a dog and began walking a steady search of continuing circles up the ridge and further away from me. Immediately I thought maybe it’s a small buck tracking does and I just could not see the antlers. I quickly searched my backpack and pulled out a rattle bag as the deer began to move out of sight. I made a short series of rattles and watched the top edge of the ridge. The deer reappeared and moved quickly to the top of the open ridge. I rattled again and watched as the deer stood perfectly still looking toward my stand. In plain view I had identified the deer as a doe. I watched quietly as the doe turned and moved out of sight. Doe season was still several weeks away but the opportunity to call the deer back to me by rattling really made my day.
Story by Hampton Brewer AKA VAOUTDOORSMAN
Sunday, October 24, 2010
HUNTING PARTNERS AND MEN OF STEEL
Recently I felt as if I‘ve lost the heart of my hunting. Unfortunately that statement is not far from the truth. My hunting partner Billy who I have hunted with for years has a heart condition and will need to have surgery. He will be unable to hunt this season due to his condition. His weekly presence on our Saturday hunting adventures has really taken on quit an important and enjoyable place in my son’s and my life. It is in my hopes and prayers that he experiences a quick, full and safe recovery.I intend on dedicating this hunting season to him. I will make it a point to enjoy everyday of the hunt to the fullest, to approach each hunt with the excitement of a first time hunter, to observe every small detail of the woods while I am there and to take each shooting opportunity with good judgment.
I began hunting as a young man with my best friend Donald. We shared all of our outdoor adventures together and he introduced me to the full experience of hunting. Over the years we each got married, had children, and began working. During that time Donald fell away from hunting altogether.
When my friend stopped hunting I spent several years and seasons hunting alone. I enjoyed the woods so much it only felt natural for me to continue hunting and to carry on the tradition. During that time my bond with the outdoors seemed to solidify my love for the woods and my relationship with God.
After a few years Billy and I began hunting together. Our two hour drives to our hunting properties were always filled with such great conversation that the radio was never an option. Billy’s wisdom always impressed me with his great ideas and viewpoints. It was amazing how I adapted a lot of his ideas in my hunting and everyday life. Billy is blessed with the ability to truly enjoy nature. As other hunters would rush out of the woods at lunch time Billy would stroll slowly through the fields in search of arrow heads.
He would always find an arrow head or chipped stone. He would notice things that other hunters would often walk past without a thought. Our Saturday lunches at the truck were one of my most favorite times of the day. Billy always had a great story to tell or a good joke to share. He always seemed to bring a little extra to eat and is insistent to share what he has. His ability to offer help to anyone or share anything he has seems to be never ending.
The hunting stories he tells from the time he was growing up and with his dad have filled my mind with great reflections to pass on. Billy and I have been fortunate enough to share the experiences of some great harvests together. The memories of those events and days will always remind me of how fantastic it is to share the event with a great friend.
What has often impressed me about Billy is that with such a friendly and helpful personality he always seemed to be made of steel. Carrying things, building things, cutting shooting lanes and dragging out deer. His energy and strength always seemed endless and I have often wondered where it came from. I don’t think they build many true men of steel anymore but Billy is one of them. As you have already guessed by my story I strongly admire him and hope that I can pass on the same qualities to other people that he has shown to me.
The bonds we make in hunting and sharing the outdoors are far greater than most people realize. The experiences in nature have always left a permanent trace on my mind and soul. I feel sorry for people who don’t understand the full experience of hunting and its enjoyment. It can be a spiritual experience as it affects all your senses while enjoying the gifts of nature.
From the millions of sounds in the forest and the fields, to the changes of images in scenery caused by the days advance, the physical feelings of the changing weather and last but not least the gift and joy of a harvest. What could affect your senses so greatly? Take the time to experience the outdoors and add to it by sharing it with a good friend. It will make the memories last forever and the ability to pass the stories on to others will leave a trace in time.
Hampton Brewer AKA VAOUTDOORSMAN
Saturday, July 3, 2010
How often do you take the time to enjoy the small details of the outdoors?
I have often discovered that I have been blessed with a gift of noticing the simple things in my enjoyment of the outdoors. I think this comes from sitting in the woods hour after hour deer hunting and taking time to watch nature unfold. I have come to the conclusion that sunrises and sunsets are never observed exactly the same as you take in the landscape around you during the process. I think they are often taken for granted and passed by without a single thought. I mean after all when was the last time you sat and watched one for a half an hour or even an hour? It’s sad to think that most people today are so driven by modern conveniences and the need for immediate entertainment that they fail to recognize how amazing the outdoors can really be. As hunters and fisherman the full experience of the outdoors actually makes each adventure worthwhile.
I have often found that a moment spent alone outdoors in thoughtful reflection can be healing for your mind, body and soul. Alone with no distractions of modern civilization you can only recognize the direct gifts of god. A time of clear thinking whether at great measures or simple thoughts. It is clearly a missing practice by most modern people today. I believe we all need interactions with nature to feel our best. I find this the most in moments when I watch sun beams crossing my fingertips as the sun advances early in the morning or the feel of wet grass as it embraces the bottom of my feet. The smell of fresh honey suckles caught by a soft breeze and gently turned under my nose on a warm summer day.
What type of entertainment can bring such an amazing array of events to your senses? The peacefulness I find in the woods and along the water often carries a great symphony of sounds to my ears. From the simplest of sounds to a noise which can be identified and noticeable almost immediately. Isn’t it amazing how the simple pass of a single bee can be both interesting and aggravating at the same time? A quite moment in a sun filled meadow overtaken by the disturbance of a rising steady buzzing sound which comes quickly to your ears and falls away in the distance silence as the insect passes by.
From the amazing aromas of wild flowers to the tainted smells of damp leaves as the smell rises along the edge of a creek bed. Have you ever noticed that the same flowing stream always has a different mix of sounds when water trickles, turns, or pushes over rocks of various sizes and configurations? Advancing up or down the stream brings an ever-changing sound of music to your ears.
Small detailed observations I’ve noticed have imprinted visions on my mind and haunted my memories. I remember a day watching a stand of tall beech trees as they filled with a slight wind which pushed trembling leaves as a warm summer breeze cooled my skin momentary from the heat of the blazing sun. Take the time to experience all the aspects of nature that unfold in front of you. The enjoyment will bring you a fantastic gift of memory and peacefulness to your soul.
Written by Hampton Brewer AKA VAOUTDOORSMAN
I have often found that a moment spent alone outdoors in thoughtful reflection can be healing for your mind, body and soul. Alone with no distractions of modern civilization you can only recognize the direct gifts of god. A time of clear thinking whether at great measures or simple thoughts. It is clearly a missing practice by most modern people today. I believe we all need interactions with nature to feel our best. I find this the most in moments when I watch sun beams crossing my fingertips as the sun advances early in the morning or the feel of wet grass as it embraces the bottom of my feet. The smell of fresh honey suckles caught by a soft breeze and gently turned under my nose on a warm summer day.
What type of entertainment can bring such an amazing array of events to your senses? The peacefulness I find in the woods and along the water often carries a great symphony of sounds to my ears. From the simplest of sounds to a noise which can be identified and noticeable almost immediately. Isn’t it amazing how the simple pass of a single bee can be both interesting and aggravating at the same time? A quite moment in a sun filled meadow overtaken by the disturbance of a rising steady buzzing sound which comes quickly to your ears and falls away in the distance silence as the insect passes by.
From the amazing aromas of wild flowers to the tainted smells of damp leaves as the smell rises along the edge of a creek bed. Have you ever noticed that the same flowing stream always has a different mix of sounds when water trickles, turns, or pushes over rocks of various sizes and configurations? Advancing up or down the stream brings an ever-changing sound of music to your ears.
Small detailed observations I’ve noticed have imprinted visions on my mind and haunted my memories. I remember a day watching a stand of tall beech trees as they filled with a slight wind which pushed trembling leaves as a warm summer breeze cooled my skin momentary from the heat of the blazing sun. Take the time to experience all the aspects of nature that unfold in front of you. The enjoyment will bring you a fantastic gift of memory and peacefulness to your soul.
Written by Hampton Brewer AKA VAOUTDOORSMAN
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
A father and son's day fishing in Carolina
I decided to put off the well needed yard work and chores to take my ten year old son Luke fishing. I pulled the boat out of the garage and prepared all the fishing equipment for an afternoon on the water. While backing my truck up the driveway to hook up the boat my tailgate fell and received a beautiful tattoo from the top of my trailer coupling. The scratch was at least twelve inches long and deep enough to show bear metal.
A great day to watch a grown man cry! I had only had the truck a few months and have always prided myself on keeping my vehicles looking great. All my wife could say was she sure was glad she didn't do it. As usual I try to look at the positive side of things and remembered my fishing was always very successful if I broke some kind of equipment at the beginning of each season. It looks like this year I'll be catching a lot of whales!
Once loaded and hooked up we drove twenty minutes across the Virginia state line into Currituck County, North Carolina. Our destination was a secluded North Carolina state boat ramp. The ramp is down a long deep wooded road which twists in constant curves. On each side of the road are houses that scream of the saying you might be a redneck if you have this in your front yard. Along side the rough paved road in front of the woods and houses are deep ditches on each side filled with frogs, turtles, small fish, and the occasional snake.
We arrived at a gray gravel filled parking lot to find only two pickup trucks and empty trailers parked along the marsh grass. I backed the boat toward the ramp to find that my new truck was a little more difficult to back the boat due to it's length and blind spots. My first mate attempted on his own accord to help with a strange direction of guiding my backing toward the ramp. His signals appeared to be a cross somewhere between karate and airplane signaling. I had to laugh but was very pleased with his thoughtfulness.
With the truck parked and the boat drifting at the ramp we climbed in the boat and found the noticeable smell of tar and timber from the boat ramp’s poles. We started slowly up the waterway as the engine made a steady tinging patter which echoed on the water and seemed to bounce off the trees as it broke the silence of the sleepy creek. The creek is very narrow with dark reflective water and surrounded by trees which form a canopy of ever connecting leaves. We moved along slowly and cautiously as the creek is filled with fallen trees, floating logs, and all types of natural hazards.
We exited the creek and left the slow no wake zone. Luke said dad don't forget to turn your hat around. We both reversed our hats and prepared to head up the waterway. As I turned the throttle on the motor the front of the boat slowly began to rise out of the water. The boat's speed increased and the bow leveled out. The welcomed cool breeze ran across our faces as we moved toward our destination.
I pulled the boat to the side of the waterway along a free standing series of old lumber rising out of the dark water. The next day I was informed by a friend's father that the wood was actually remnants of a very old boat. Luke and I spent a great amount of time working out our patience on the old timber. All fisherman know sometimes you just have those fishing spots where everything gets tangled, caught, hung and just plan difficult. This was one of those spots. We pulled everything up and headed further upstream.
The waterway wines with turns each filled with it's own beauty. Both sides of the waterway are scattered with tall cypress trees and various types of marsh grass painted with the never ending colors of pale and dark greens. Past the edge of the cypress trees are large stands of deep woods and tall narrow pines. As we continued down the waterway we came across a wide turn where a family with several children were jumping into the water off their boat with their life jackets on.
The location they had anchored was not the safest place to swim especially for the children due to the speed of boat traffic entering the turn. With a cigarette dangling from one hand and her other hand on her hip a woman on the boat screamed repeatedly at her children. The language she used you hoped your child would never hear or would you want to have to explain what it meant.
The sun was working hard on us and Luke’s life jacket was squeezing the sweat right out of him. He began begging for some shade and I was happy to help. I found a spot that should surely produce fish on the edge of a turn at the intersection in a very shaded area. We found three large trees which had branches and leaves that hung in the water in a vine like fashion. The long branches and leaves gave the impression the trees were slowly waltzing on the surface of the water with each movement from the current
We tied the boat off and began to cast our bobbers toward logs, under tree branches, and beside cypress knees. Immediately we began catching a good series of sunfish and brim. Our bobbers would move slightly with slow taps and then would disappear quickly below the surface. Luke did fine with the worms but was still having difficulty grasping the crickets. On numerous occasions the hand held escape artists sprang from our hands to find safety in the boat's metal grooves. Luke caught a nice white perch. The next hit he attempted to land teased us with just a glance before he fell back to the dark marble like water before us. The fish released just as his head raised out of the water he appeared to be a smallmouth or raccoon perch.
Further out in the middle of the waterway we watched several needle nose gars work on fish at the surface. Luke said dad I want to catch a needle nose gar. I told him we needed one small fish that I could use for bait. Luke said you can use the smallest sunfish I caught. As I reeled in my line to set Luke up for a gar I received a unexpected hit while the bobber moved across the water. This fish fought hard as he turned around the edge of the boat. As I pulled him out of the water I was shocked to see that what I thought was a perch or bass was the largest brim I had ever seen. Luke yelled out he's a record! He was extremely dark in color and had a high blunt head. As we placed him in the live well Luke stated dad he's so big he has to lay on his side to get water while the other fish have no problem.
In hopes of Luke catching a needle nose gar I rigged a small sunfish back fin on a line. We watched the top of the water in the main channel for a gar to surface. I pitched the bobber and line almost on top of one. We waited a little while and without any success we turned our attention back to catching the brim under the shaded trees. I glanced over my shoulder at the bobber that we set out for the gar and noticed it was gone. Before I could alert Luke to the excitement. The pole which was resting by the motor slammed the side of the boat and almost went overboard.
I grabbed the pole and said to Luke fish on! He yelled a Gar! Almost immediately the pull on the pole stopped. The bobber never surfaced so I knew he was still on. I handed the pole to Luke and said take your time and reel him in. Luke began to reel the pole in slowly with perfect ease and without a fight. He said dad I think he got away. I told him to keep reeling. About half way into the boat the gar took off and Luke's pole bent down sharply. As I looked at Luke his smile grew from ear to ear. The gar made long straight turns about six to eight feet wide from side to side as he drew closer to the boat.
As the gar came closer to the boat the pole bent almost straight down. Luke excitedly screamed get him in the boat! I raised the gar out of the water while the fish repeatedly snapped at the line hanging above his mouth with his razor sharp teeth. The gar bit the line completely through and fell back into the water. Luke was a little disappointed not to bring him in the boat but was extremely happy with the success. I was happy not to have to deal with him in the boat. Knowing we couldn't top the gar we decided to head home.
Luke drove the boat back to the ramp with my assistance until his hand got tired. As I reached the boat ramp I faced my final challenge of the day. Luke was convinced that the brim I caught was a citation or a record and didn't want to let him go. I finalized the situation with the idea that someone else may get to catch him later. I told him that even though we didn't bring the fish home he and I would always remember the day.
Story by Hampton Brewer AKA VAOUTDOORSMAN
A great day to watch a grown man cry! I had only had the truck a few months and have always prided myself on keeping my vehicles looking great. All my wife could say was she sure was glad she didn't do it. As usual I try to look at the positive side of things and remembered my fishing was always very successful if I broke some kind of equipment at the beginning of each season. It looks like this year I'll be catching a lot of whales!
Once loaded and hooked up we drove twenty minutes across the Virginia state line into Currituck County, North Carolina. Our destination was a secluded North Carolina state boat ramp. The ramp is down a long deep wooded road which twists in constant curves. On each side of the road are houses that scream of the saying you might be a redneck if you have this in your front yard. Along side the rough paved road in front of the woods and houses are deep ditches on each side filled with frogs, turtles, small fish, and the occasional snake.
We arrived at a gray gravel filled parking lot to find only two pickup trucks and empty trailers parked along the marsh grass. I backed the boat toward the ramp to find that my new truck was a little more difficult to back the boat due to it's length and blind spots. My first mate attempted on his own accord to help with a strange direction of guiding my backing toward the ramp. His signals appeared to be a cross somewhere between karate and airplane signaling. I had to laugh but was very pleased with his thoughtfulness.
With the truck parked and the boat drifting at the ramp we climbed in the boat and found the noticeable smell of tar and timber from the boat ramp’s poles. We started slowly up the waterway as the engine made a steady tinging patter which echoed on the water and seemed to bounce off the trees as it broke the silence of the sleepy creek. The creek is very narrow with dark reflective water and surrounded by trees which form a canopy of ever connecting leaves. We moved along slowly and cautiously as the creek is filled with fallen trees, floating logs, and all types of natural hazards.
We exited the creek and left the slow no wake zone. Luke said dad don't forget to turn your hat around. We both reversed our hats and prepared to head up the waterway. As I turned the throttle on the motor the front of the boat slowly began to rise out of the water. The boat's speed increased and the bow leveled out. The welcomed cool breeze ran across our faces as we moved toward our destination.
I pulled the boat to the side of the waterway along a free standing series of old lumber rising out of the dark water. The next day I was informed by a friend's father that the wood was actually remnants of a very old boat. Luke and I spent a great amount of time working out our patience on the old timber. All fisherman know sometimes you just have those fishing spots where everything gets tangled, caught, hung and just plan difficult. This was one of those spots. We pulled everything up and headed further upstream.
The waterway wines with turns each filled with it's own beauty. Both sides of the waterway are scattered with tall cypress trees and various types of marsh grass painted with the never ending colors of pale and dark greens. Past the edge of the cypress trees are large stands of deep woods and tall narrow pines. As we continued down the waterway we came across a wide turn where a family with several children were jumping into the water off their boat with their life jackets on.
The location they had anchored was not the safest place to swim especially for the children due to the speed of boat traffic entering the turn. With a cigarette dangling from one hand and her other hand on her hip a woman on the boat screamed repeatedly at her children. The language she used you hoped your child would never hear or would you want to have to explain what it meant.
The sun was working hard on us and Luke’s life jacket was squeezing the sweat right out of him. He began begging for some shade and I was happy to help. I found a spot that should surely produce fish on the edge of a turn at the intersection in a very shaded area. We found three large trees which had branches and leaves that hung in the water in a vine like fashion. The long branches and leaves gave the impression the trees were slowly waltzing on the surface of the water with each movement from the current
We tied the boat off and began to cast our bobbers toward logs, under tree branches, and beside cypress knees. Immediately we began catching a good series of sunfish and brim. Our bobbers would move slightly with slow taps and then would disappear quickly below the surface. Luke did fine with the worms but was still having difficulty grasping the crickets. On numerous occasions the hand held escape artists sprang from our hands to find safety in the boat's metal grooves. Luke caught a nice white perch. The next hit he attempted to land teased us with just a glance before he fell back to the dark marble like water before us. The fish released just as his head raised out of the water he appeared to be a smallmouth or raccoon perch.
Further out in the middle of the waterway we watched several needle nose gars work on fish at the surface. Luke said dad I want to catch a needle nose gar. I told him we needed one small fish that I could use for bait. Luke said you can use the smallest sunfish I caught. As I reeled in my line to set Luke up for a gar I received a unexpected hit while the bobber moved across the water. This fish fought hard as he turned around the edge of the boat. As I pulled him out of the water I was shocked to see that what I thought was a perch or bass was the largest brim I had ever seen. Luke yelled out he's a record! He was extremely dark in color and had a high blunt head. As we placed him in the live well Luke stated dad he's so big he has to lay on his side to get water while the other fish have no problem.
In hopes of Luke catching a needle nose gar I rigged a small sunfish back fin on a line. We watched the top of the water in the main channel for a gar to surface. I pitched the bobber and line almost on top of one. We waited a little while and without any success we turned our attention back to catching the brim under the shaded trees. I glanced over my shoulder at the bobber that we set out for the gar and noticed it was gone. Before I could alert Luke to the excitement. The pole which was resting by the motor slammed the side of the boat and almost went overboard.
I grabbed the pole and said to Luke fish on! He yelled a Gar! Almost immediately the pull on the pole stopped. The bobber never surfaced so I knew he was still on. I handed the pole to Luke and said take your time and reel him in. Luke began to reel the pole in slowly with perfect ease and without a fight. He said dad I think he got away. I told him to keep reeling. About half way into the boat the gar took off and Luke's pole bent down sharply. As I looked at Luke his smile grew from ear to ear. The gar made long straight turns about six to eight feet wide from side to side as he drew closer to the boat.
As the gar came closer to the boat the pole bent almost straight down. Luke excitedly screamed get him in the boat! I raised the gar out of the water while the fish repeatedly snapped at the line hanging above his mouth with his razor sharp teeth. The gar bit the line completely through and fell back into the water. Luke was a little disappointed not to bring him in the boat but was extremely happy with the success. I was happy not to have to deal with him in the boat. Knowing we couldn't top the gar we decided to head home.
Luke drove the boat back to the ramp with my assistance until his hand got tired. As I reached the boat ramp I faced my final challenge of the day. Luke was convinced that the brim I caught was a citation or a record and didn't want to let him go. I finalized the situation with the idea that someone else may get to catch him later. I told him that even though we didn't bring the fish home he and I would always remember the day.
Story by Hampton Brewer AKA VAOUTDOORSMAN
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