Thursday, October 31, 2013

NoDak 2013



Duck Hunters wear waders cause of the stories they tell.

For my Wisconsin duck hunting friends and myself, the almost-annual fall hunting trip to North Dakota really begins about ten miles down the hiway the previous year.  12 months earlier, we are already talking about “next year” and what we can do different and what we learned during this addition-no shortage of curriculum there at all.  Being from a state that really isn’t known for high volume waterfowl  traffic or emptying a lot of ammo boxes, my group of buddies look foreword to the wide open pot hole country and the opportunity to clean the cobwebs out of our 12 gauges.

All of us hail from the Wausau area originally and grew up in the woods, often at the end of the day streaking out of the doors of the high school, searching for coveys of grouse.  Back then a couple of .20 gauge shotguns and tattered bird vests in the trunk in the school parking lot was no big deal. Close friend Mike lived on Lake Wausau, so he had duck hunting in his blood and I’d tagged along with my Grandpa Schutlz bagging a few mallards and Woodies when I was a kid.  As all of us grew up, we made it a point to hit the woods and marshes together as often as we could.  That’s all well and good, but we also wanted to experience what “real” hunting was like- out west….shooting box after box of shells at endless flights of ducks and pheasants. Chatting with a Neillsville neighbor one day, I learned of a farmer in North Dakota with tons of land and reasonable rates.  Perfect opportunity. Some quick calls and consultations with the hunting buds and soon reservations were made for the following fall.  It was a good decision back then-we’ve  had good years and slow ones but never unsuccessful if one measures in number of laughs, stories and solid camaraderie.

 Prepping for the trip may start in our minds right away the preceding year, but for the dogs, it really begins in earnest during the hottest months of summer.  This year would be my 5 year old Black Lab Molly’s first out-west trip.  She’s performed well on pheasants in state, but retrieving on big cold North Dakota water through a pile of decoys could be tougher.  Several times a week, we’d  head down the road and do drills in a small lake.  She enjoyed this game immensely and even when I set a handful of decoys out off the beach, she managed to navigate though them to make the retrieves.    I felt she was ready and couldn’t wait to see her hit the water,

The guys are scattered a bit now-Mike and Moe in Wausau, Dave in Ladysmith,  Mikes son James (with a new dog Wally) near the cities and I’m in Neillsville.  With a bit of coordination we all gathered and shoehorned gear, guns and dogs into two trucks and a trailer.  I’d also be delivering a young golden retriever puppy to a new owner in ND as a favor and she was no problem during the 8 hour drive.  At one time landowner Allen’s cash crop farm was over 5000 acres, but he’d downsized now and we had to work harder to find which potholes the birds were using.  Pheasants suffered a huge downturn this past year, so we hunted those as incidentals as we jump shot marshes.  Our intent was to try goose hunting as well, and no expense was spared getting deeks bought, painted and prepped-they never left the truck box.  Crops were still standing and finding giant Canadians proved difficult.  Snow geese would tease us, but are tough to hunt.  We stuck to what we’d learned over the years-set decoys in the morning, jump shoot later, relax and catch the sun lengthening shadows late in the day.

We’ve hunted  NoDak in about every conceivable kind of weather-from unseasonably warmth to breaking ice on ponds cold.  No different this year.  We arrived at 3:30 am and caught some zzzz’s in a gas station parking lot only to find snow blanketing everything an hour later.  Typical North Dakota.  Melting snow meant soils turn to black grease and the truck stayed in four wheel drive all week.  Overcast and damp actually helped duck hunting as one would expect and we managed to get plenty of shooting opportunities the first 2 days.  Bluebird skys and temps sliding up to the 60s seem to put the kabash on our waterfowl hunt later.  We did get a few more, but they were tough to find-no cold front flights of northern birds would arrive this year.  We managed a few rooster pheasants, but the hens outnumbered them 15 to 1 if we did find them.  No matter, we still were in a beautiful place and away from work and for the dogs, it was nirvana every day.


I think we all appreciate the opportunity to make this trip and don’t take anything for granted.  We’ve learned that hunting here doesn’t have to mean pounding the fields and marshes every minute of every day like maybe we did when we were younger.  We stop more, we quit earlier and we take the time to breathe it all in.  As we sat one night this year making a point to watch the sun go down,  we all agreed that even though it takes a good deal of effort to pull this off, it’s all worth it.  An early exit by 3 of the guys for a family emergency lead to a text from Mike the following day- “We need to do more of this kind of thing….life is too short.”  I couldn’t agree more.












 

Monday, October 7, 2013

Faces of the Parade

Homecoming-lots of controversy of one kind or another this year-the merits or not of toilet papering, powder puff football and of course dress up days in school-are they educational?  Are we following PBIS, RTI etc?  ;)  I love that at the very least the homecoming parade skirted rain and still marched down 4th street like usual.  It's a "target rich environment" as photographers say and since I know all the kids lined up at the edge of the curb, it's even more fun to get some portraits.  The younger kids are more fun-they are still full of enthusieasm whereas the older kids see it as a half our out of class-even if it is robbing them of some Friday afternoon instructional time.  Maybe that's why they don't smile as much?  Well, either way, here are the Faces of the parade.
























Thursday, October 3, 2013

Trey Steven

 
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Trey
After a short week or two, I’m sure your parents can hardly remember a time when you haven’t  been with them or a part of their lives.  A feeling anyone else that who has held you can relate to for you’re a keeper. Your arrival on this planet has changed all of us. That’s a pretty amazing thought, for  someone so small and who's days are mostly spent sleeping in dreamland.  I wonder what you as a newborn dream of?  Your face smiles and frowns and sometimes gets all smushy, and I could watch you and guess for hours on end.

There was so much anticipation at your arrival-what you’d look like, if you’d be healthy, the color of your hair, eyes and your name.  Now we know all those things like we’ve  known them forever. Trey, welcome to your new world.  Your mother and father have already learned what it is to love someone so completely that it amazes them and they are just starting out. That’s not a difficult feeling to have when you’re asleep in our arms-about as peaceful as any living thing can be.  When you’re sleeping or even perhaps taking a peek with your eyes barely open, nothing else in the world matters for us-it’s a moment lost in your new life.

I don’t know what that life will have in store for you Trey-the world is pretty crazy and your place here now changes how all of us will think of it. Before you, the future ahead had been spent maybe thinking of ourselves, but now you’re here adding a new twist to it and we want it better for you.  As a grandfather, I dream of sharing things I love with you-the outdoors mostly, because that’s where  the very best things in life are as my grandfathers taught me.  Hiking, or at the least holding your small hand out on a leaf shuffling walk , fishing, hunting, pedaling a bike and shushing skis for sure.  I’m guessing like with your mom and uncle Nik, there will be some sports to watch you play and some major mileage to be put on whatever vehicle is driven to see you.

Your parents love you, but you will scare them, make them laugh and smile, make them  proud and make them cry-some of those things have happened already in your short life.  You’re a pretty amazing little guy.  Your grandparents love you very much too-I’m still trying to assess out how this grand-paw thing fits me, but so far, it’s been darn good.  We’ve “watched” the Packers, fallen asleep to a late night Badgers game,  changed your diapers and  fed you til you’re full and sleepy.  All my friends who tell me grandparenting is great, so far have been right.  I hadn’t doubted it for a second. 

If I hadn’t figured out this “Circle of Life” thing yet, your birth sure has smacked me in the head with it, much like when your mom was born.  Your dad talked about how old he’ll be when you graduate from high school-in my mind I did the arithmetic as well and figured out the same thing-ouch, but then 70 will be the next 50 in new math terms. 

I have a few more aches and pains now,  but hope to have a lot of extra time to hang out with my grandson, not so much to spoil you (maybe just a little) but to just take advantage of what life has given us.  The other day your tiny hand gripped my finger so tightly-a good sign little one, for you’ll have to hold on tight. …your Papa can’t wait,  It’s gonna be a good ride Trey.

Life is a song-sing it.  Life is a game-play it.  Life is a challenge-meet it. Life is a dream-realize it.  Life is a sacrafice-offer it.  Life is love-enjoy it. -Sai baba 
 




Monday, September 9, 2013

The Grape Harvest-Sandstone Ridge

Howard and The Grapes

In a chapter of the Adventures of Tom Sawyer, Tom convinces several  friends he meets during the day that whitewashing  a fence is great pleasure.  With a bit of bargaining, Tom negotiates and collects a small stash of treasure from each boy who passes by in exchange for the privilege of working on the fence.  Tom reflects that all it takes to make someone want something is to make it hard to get.  That timeless story floated around my head as the sweat dripped off my brow harvesting grapes the other day.  It was very warm for mid September as I joined a small group of fans of the Sandstone Ridge Winery & Vineyards, harvesting some of the first grapes of the season.

 The call had gone out to friends and family of the vineyard that harvest time was here and if interested, we could reserve our spot on the picking team for the day.  Harvesting will continue into early October, but like Tom Sawyers friends, I wasn’t going to let this first opportunity slip by! Although I make my own wild berry wines, this was a chance to see behind the scenes production on a professional level.

 I am an enthusiast of Standstone Ridge wines and the beautiful winery and vineyard owners Bob and Connie Dubiel have created  high on a ridgetop in West Central Wisconsin near Osseo.   The Dubiels, along with family and friends have crafted an enterprise in these hills-finding just the right climate and soil to produce grapes and award winning wines with  unique and rich flavors.  Although the winery is only in it’s second year,  this 40 acre vineyard, along with a second smaller one in a valley near Pleasantville,  have been painstakingly developed for some time with plenty of sweat equity and pride.




Our early morning group of volunteers gathered at the beautiful wood and stone winery for coffee and rolls and introductions. There was  enthusiasm and a bit of anxiousness to get started, even though most of us had no idea what lie ahead in the countless rows of grape vines waiting  outside.   Bob gathered us in the center of the vineyard and gave instructions on the proper use of harvesting tools,  picking techniques, which berries to toss and which to keep.  We’d start on several rows of plump white Brianna grape as the morning sun quickly started warming the ridge top.   Even with our late spring, deluge of rain early and now near drought conditions, Bob reported and we witnessed how productive this crop was-the bunches of grapes very large and delicious.   He gave us one rule-eat as many of the grapes as we’d like, proving the myth that wine grapes are terrible eating so very wrong. 

White plastic crates were spread out between the rows and soon filling as we started getting the hang of this harvesting thing.  Pickers would pair up on either side of the vines and spread out the heavy foliage to find and clip off clusters-some camouflaged well while others wound around the supporting trellis.  After a while, a rhythm almost develops while picking, meditative, as one cuts and grasps several bunches in the hand before moving on.  Quiet conversations between  harvesters worked slowly down each row until finished, the white bins now full and ready for pick up.  These grapes would be sold to another winery and I joked to Connie that we’d  work harder if we thought this fruit would be poured into a glass next summer from the Sandstone Ridge cellar! 



  Bob moved us to a different grape, a red Sabrevios which was much easier to see and pick.  The deep purple of the bunches stood out in stark contrast to the green leaves.  Grapes can be trained to grow either high or low on the trellis, so for myself, the high bunches were within easy reach.  The Sabrevios were more fragile and having purple stained hands and clothes become quite fashionable.  Sometimes these reds had a dirty knack of tangling themselves around the wire or send tendrils to anchor down the bunches, making it wholly a puzzle to free them into my crate.  A couple more family members arrived and within a few hours, we’d finished our assigned rows and thankful for the break as the day really warmed up under the cloudless sky.

The Dubiels provided a wonderful lunch and even more welcome,  shade under a beautiful pavilion in the center of the vineyard.  The shared labor brought down any walls and soon the shelter was filled with chatty  friendly people just enjoying the breeze and scenery.  Six wines were brought out to enjoy with our meal and perhaps help encourage anyone who wanted to do a little grape stomping.  Several did and the red and white grapes were soon a slurry of “must” (which Bob would donate to the forest critters and not use for wine).  It’s more ceremonial than anything, but produced giggles and red stained feet and well worth it for entertainment value.  Good friend Howard and I even convinced his wife Bobbie to roll up her pants to give it a go.  (I think she really wanted to all along!).




The family and hired hands returned to harvesting, with Bob giving us the option of joining back in, but suggested that maybe we’d rather relax, sample another glass and take in the view.  Yeah, that sounded good to me.    On another harvest day, I’ll be convinced like Tom Sawyers buddies, that it is a great privilege and honor to be out among the vines, filling crates and staining hands.  Honestly, I know most of us here will be back-the Dubiels are just great people,  and this a beautiful place.  But for the rest of the day, I think I’ll just kick back, relax, enjoy the panorama in front of me and the fruits of their labor.

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