Shots from the Hunt

I don’t always have success when I hunt or fish. Actually, if I were to add my time, mileage, equipment, etc., each goose breast is costing me about $68 a pop. Each deer? I don’t even want to know.

But what I also get from hunts is a few photos for the scrapbook. A few shots that speak to why I should never question how much my trips cost – only that I love the time I spend every time I’m in the field. Here are a few from those trips.

This was one of my hunting partner's first turkeys in Cass county.

Every step that pheasant hunter Scott Miller walked, I was convinced he was going to flush a pheasant in this milo field.

I had never been on a hunt where the dog wasn't in the blind with me, as was the case during this recent waterfowl hunt at Schilling WMA.

My friend's two Labs stopped long enough at the end of a pheasant trip for this photo.

My dad is the lone angler in this shot, with Dewey Lake at the Valentine NWR all to himself.

NEBRASKAland Bonus Material – “Running Bunnies” Photos

Dustin Favinger carrying his over-and-under .410.

I hope you enjoy a few more photos from my rabbit hunt last year with Cozad native Dustin Favinger, as promised in the December 2010 edition of NEBRASKAland.

Happy Hunting.

Jeff Kurrus

Continue reading “NEBRASKAland Bonus Material – “Running Bunnies” Photos” »

Field Day #2- Fishing with Polak

By Jeff Kurrus

For those who don’t know walleye angler Mike Polak, you should. I’ve never met a nicer man on the water, and I’ve never had a more enjoyable time with someone that I had never met before.

Mike Polak with a walleye at Lewis and Clark SRA

Recently, Mike and I first met at Lewis and Clark Reservoir for a day of vertical jigging for walleye. The trip had been set up by Mike’s good friend and fishing partner, Steve Isom, who had informed me that if I wanted to learn how to catch walleye in the fall for a story I was working on for this spring in NEBRASKAland, Mike was the person I should contact. And Steve was correct.

But I didn’t quite understand this until after our trip when we were back at the boat ramp. See, when I’m out with anglers, hunters, hikers, and the like, I’m with them. They jump, I jump. They vertical jig, and so do I. So when the fishing throughout the day was moderately slow, I wondered if this was relatively common for this time of year, were there different spots to fish, could we be using any other technique – all those questions that come from a person who has no idea what they are doing.

Our vertical jigging lure - a jig head tipped with a minnow

We put a few fish in the livewell throughout the day, as Mike educated me on the finer points of jigging. Then, by the end of the day, we were in a spot on the lake where every other boat had also congregated. Yet as we fished, I didn’t see many other boats catching many fish, especially no nice fish.

Polak netting a Lewis and Clark Reservoir walleye

I dismissed the thought at the time, but when I got back to the boat ramp with our 8 keepers and I started talking to others, I then found out how well we had done that day. One, two, three, at the most four, fish had been caught that day by any one single boat. While Mike and I had sat in those same spots and caught our limits.

Another Polak-caught walleye

I’m always intrigued during situations like this when everyone seems to be doing the same thing, and come to find out they are not.

I’m also intrigued when the person I’m spending time with that day is as nice as he is knowledgeable.

Walleye fishing at sunset at Lewis and Clark Reservoir

Field Day #1- First Pheasant

For those following my Bow Journal entries on this blog, you might be concerned that I was not spending as much time in the woods the last few weeks due to the lack of entries posted. Well, there’s a good reason for that. While early November is such a great time to sit in the woods yourself, it’s probably an even better time for photograph others having fun in the Nebraska outdoors. So that’s what I’ve been doing.

Over the next few days, I will be posting brief journal entries on the who, where, and what surrounding my days afield. Looking back, it’s been a very busy time lately. Yet even more fun than busy.

Enjoy.

First Pheasant

My wife called me from work a few weeks back and asked if I could try to wrangle a pheasant hunting trip for a colleague of hers, Chad West, and his father-in-law Elwood. Neither Chad or Elwood had ever shot a pheasant, both being from Mississippi, and I was told by my lovely wife to see if I could help. I made a couple of phone calls and end up hunting with a friend of mine from Gretna, Bob Schweikert.

Schweikert and his dog Chevy with a quail

Bob is an avid bird hunter who loves to watch his Brittanys run. So he had no problem meeting another country boy or two for a hunt. We went west of Lincoln, with me shooting photos the entire time, and the two Southern boys were thrilled with what they saw. On the day, the group shot five pheasants and two quail, but you would have thought from Chad that they had been taken to Oz.

Chad shoots at the wrong quail

But in a way, they had. They had never seen dogs pointing pheasants before, never seen a rooster flush, and never walked through prairie grass – all scenes that many of us have witnessed before and probably take it for granted much more than we should.

Schweikert on a pheasant and quail hunt

Bob, Chad and Elwood with dogs Chevy and Sally

Chevy after a long day afield

The Swamp Buck

Hopefully I can make the words for this be as funny as I am imagining it in my head.

A few days before the start of firearm season, I got a call from Matt Marx, longtime friend and NEBRASKAland contributor who started deer hunting a few years ago and now rarely does anything else through the fall and winter.

“I missed 3 times,” he texted me, which deserved an immediate return phone call.

“Okay,” he started, “When I first saw the buck, an 8-point, he was standing behind a thicket. I stood, got into position, and waited for him to step out. When he did, he stepped right into a swamp. You know, the one that’s right in front of my stand? He was about 30 yards out. I put my sight on his heart, control my breathing, and release. The arrow goes right over his back, less than an inch, and crashes into the water. The buck startles, looks toward the spot where the arrow landed, and stands there. I guess he thought it was a fish or something. I nock another arrow, pull my aim down slightly, and release. This arrow goes two inches below the deer, splashing and sinking right beneath him. Again he startles, and again I nock another arrow.”

By this point, I know where the story is going, as probably you do as well, but I still couldn’t stop smiling.

“On my third shot,” he began again, “My up and down was perfect. I mean perfect. Yet when I released, I was 2 inches in front of him. Another arrow in the water, and another arrow lost. The buck had seen enough by then, blowing at no one in particular and running away, his nice, white rack shining as he did. So, with no arrows left, I left the woods an hour early.”

Man, that’s a rough story, I told him.

“Yeah, that was an expensive hunt,” he said. “So, uh, when does rifle season start again?”