Grouse Hollow Journal for March 28, 2013 by Greg Koelker

“I've heard it saidThat people come into our lives for a reason”-Steven Schwartz for “Wicked”

On Saturday, Ellen and I drove to Oregon to say help say goodbye to Hank Hierlmeier, our dear friend Gordy's dad. Hank was quite the sportsman in his time. There were photos of him with big muskies and bass and stringers full of perch and panfish. He was a deer hunter too. Many moons ago, El and I and the boys stayed with him and Virginia, his wife of nearly 65 years, at their cottage up near Gordon. In those days, Hank would fish the Lower Eau Claire flowage and other lakes around it early and late, and golf in the middle of the day. The first time my boys and I ever golfed, it was with Hank and Gordy on a small local golf course where a black bear had been seen on the greens earlier in the day. T El and the boys saw a black bear near the cottage one day too. Hank always had a ready smile, ready advice, a ready story, and maybe a ready opinion. He had failed due to gout and heart disease in recent years and didn't go up north much any more, instead filling his time playing cribbage and going to high school sports. There was a big crowd for someone who was 86. (My dad used to say the worst thing about growing old was that all of your friends were either in a nursing home or dead or living in Arizona.) Anyway, I choose to remember Hank as he was up north all those years ago, heading out to fish with his colorful slouch hat tipped to the side.

On Sunday, Vince and I spent the better part of two hours starring at holes in the ice in De Soto Bay. Just because there are thirty vehicles there along the highway with dozens of fishermen on the ice, does not mean they are biting. Another piece of evidence for my life long motto, “You should have been here yesterday.” I was telling Vince about a fishing show I saw where the guy was hooking snelled hooks to his ice line and dangling two or three baits on the same line up on Devil's Lake in North Dakota. He was hammering the big perch with this special rig. Vince commented that maybe we need to start bringing a camera and recording our fishing trips to turn on the fish. Hmmm. . . I wonder. The manager at Pronto told me all the fishermen were complaining about the lack of fish, but she said someone who had been fishing at Stoddard was complaining about getting pinched by a warden because he was over his limit too, so . . .

On the way up Proksch Coulee, I saw maybe 30 robins hopping about the sun-cleared grass of a front yard. They were the first ones I have seen, but Ellen said she thought she heard one singing last week already. Back at the ranch, I got a call from Vince who said I should come over to Shady Maple to see the birds. I grabbed my Nikon and a tripod and my gym bag and headed over. I stopped to take a couple shots of the robins too. At Shady, the open water was full of waterfowl. I could see hundreds of snow geese, some swans, golden eye, mallards, and canvas backs as well as canada geese. Some were feeding and others just stretching out their wings or calling apparently just for the sure joy of being their journey north to Canada or wherever they goe to nest for the summer. They were making a hellacious racket that announced the spring has sprung and this is where the birdies is, as my old friend Harry Opsahl used to say, except it had a line in about the grass is riz too – that doesn't appear to be on the horizon just too soon, although Ellen showed me some tulips and other plants poking out of a flower bed on the south side of the house. Anyway, I posted a couple pictures on my blog, grousehollowjournal.blogspot.com, if you'd care to check it out.Speaking of the web, I shared a picture of some morel mushrooms on my Facebook page last week, and I got a comment from Dan Vento of Genoa, who wrote that he checked out his notes from last March and he had found his first morels last week in 2012 after a week of temperatures in the 80s. WINTER WILL END! It has to, doesn't it?

This week I am going to get my hunting and fishing licenses taken care of. I think I will buy a Conservation Patron's License again. It seems pricey, but you only have to carry one license and it covers all of the following for $165: What's included :Annual Fishing LicenseGreat Lakes Trout & Salmon StampInland Trout StampSturgeon Hook & Line InlandSturgeon Hook & Line WI-MISmall Game LicensePheasant StampGun Deer Hunting LicenseArchery LicenseTrapping LicenseOtter ApplicationFisher ApplicationSpring Turkey ApplicationSpring Turkey License (permit required)Turkey StampFall Turkey ApplicationFall Turkey License (permit required)Early Goose Permit (upon request)Exterior Goose Permit (upon request)Regular Season Goose ApplicationWaterfowl StampAnnual Park Sticker (not included with the Conservation Patron Junior License)Annual State Parks Trail Pass (not included with the Conservation Patron Junior License)Admission to Heritage Hill State Park (not included with the Conservation Patron Junior License)Subscription to Wisconsin Natural Resources Magazine (not included with the Conservation Patron Junior License)You can also buy a Conservation Patron License Junior that is $75 for people 12 to 17.

Until next time, get out – remember to get your fishing license renewed this week, and while your there, you might as well get your turkey license too. The Conservation Congress and Wisconsin DNR Fish and Game Hearings are on April 8 at Viroqua High School. Enjoy.  

Grouse Hollow Journal for March 14, 2013

Grouse Hollow Journal for March 14, 2013 by Greg Koelker

"I've gone fishing thousands of times in my life, and I have never once felt unlucky or poorly paid for those hours on the water." - William TapplyI managed to get the Mississippi Queen on the river on Saturday afternoon. It wasn't easy.

First I had to get somebody to go with me. Ellen didn't like the looks of the low clouds and persistent off and on drizzle we were experiencing, and she has a terrible cold. (I had a feeling it was going to quit, the drizzle I mean.) Anyway, she was definitely out. I tried my young friend Eli Jackson but he didn't reply right away. Vince was in South Dakota, Mike Bilot was probably at work, and Curt and Gordie were too far away for short notice pike fishing. Who else might be brave, or foolish, enough to get wet while wetting a line? I called Mike Davis. He answered on the third ring and without hesitation said, “I can do that.”

Okay, I had a partner willing to fish in the rain. Now I had to see if my idle-since-September Merc motor would start. I uncovered the boat, rolling up the tarp to the front to try and keep most of the pigeon guano from soiling the carpet and seats. While many of the birds have fallen to flying lead poisoning this winter, those doggone sky carp that are left keep making a real mess in the center of the tobacco shed. Anyway, I pumped up the fuel line bulb, pumped and set the choke, and then started pumping the cold engine with the starter rope. It started on the sixth pull, growling to life in a cloud of blue smoke!

There is water running over ice through the shed, making walking around the boat treacherous. After having to walk back to the house to ask Ellen to find my truck keys (so I didin't have to take off my wet and muddy boots), and unloading my ice sled and gear, I had a heck of a time hooking the boat to the pickup. I grappled with the boat tongue, falling to one knee once, and slipping and sliding my way around the Queen while hanging on for dear life before having the hitch secured.

I was ready to go . . . I couldn't find my walleye stuff. At least I remembered I needed it before I left, but It wasn't where I remembered it. I checked the barn and the garage, and then the shop. I eventually found the rods and tackle box in a corner of the shop. I still don't know how or why they were in there.

Before I left, I remembered that I nearly forgot my fishing pliers (Wow! My memory must be improving!) and asked Ellen to check for the long nosed tool in my jacket pocket (I thought) and get me my warmer gloves from down stairs.

When I did roll down the driveway, I realized that I was going to be late for the rendezvous time Mike and I had set. I had some stops to make yet too. I got boat gas in Stoddard. I put in three gallons and the right amount of oil. In Genoa, I had Jen Clements get me a scoop of pike minnows. She said her step son, Mark got a nice mess of pike that morning. Great! On the way down the road, I got a text from Eli Jackson saying he was already out at Genoa, and as he eloquently put it, “The fishing sucks.” Blue smoke again, but this time from me.

Anyway, Mike was waiting for me at the parking lot of the Blask Landing. We readied the boat for launching. Eli's fishing partner, Tony came walking over. They were taking a break in the truck, warming up and snoozing. He said they had been there all morning and had three saugers.

We launched without incident, no small feat considering Mike and I top the list of most dangerous mariners at boat launches, after all the incidents we have had together and apart at boat landings. Eli and Tony had been fishing with hair jigs and minnows. So I tried my old standby, Donatello – a heavy headed jig that looks like one of the Ninja Turtles - with a twister tail and a minnow. It hadworked well last spring. Mike put on a floater rig with a minnow. He said he had been out on the open water twice before this year and the rig had served him to a couple fish dinners. I eventually put one on too, as he caught all of the fish for the day, both of them – smallish saugers.

We caught up on each other's families. His daughter (and my former student), Melissa, is a music teacher at an English school in Bogota, Columbia. He says she loves it there. We discussed gun control, education, health care, politics, hunting and fishing, not necessarily in that order. We solved more than one problem of the world if only everyone would listen and agree with us. Anyway, we finally called it quits, following Eli and Tony back to the landing, all of us soaked through and cold. As always, it was a good time on the water, regardless of the weather and catch, or lack there of.

Until next time, get out – on March 18 the Wisconsin DNR is asking for input on the deer herd with 34 meetings around the state. The Crawford, La Crosse, Monroe, and Vernon Counties meeting will be in the Community Room of the Bekkum Memorial Library in Westby from 6 to 8 p.m. Also, the DNR is holding nine public meetings in the state to ask anglers their ideas to improve the Driftless Area on March 20. The meeting for this area will run from 4-7 p.m. at the La Farge Kickapoo Valley Reserve Center along Highway 131. Also, the DNR spring wildlife & fisheries proposed rules hearing and annual Conservation Congress county meeting will be Monday, April 8 at 7 p.m. in the Viroqua High School Commons area. Don't forget to get your fishing license renewed. You might as well get your turkey license on the same stop. Finally, Wayne Jacobson of De Soto told me yesterday (Wednesday, March 14) that they had flowers poking out of ground along the house.  Enjoy.

Grouse Hollow Journal for March 7, 2013

Grouse Hollow Journal for March 7, 2013 by Greg Koelker

“If you seek creative ideas go walking. Angels whisper to a man when he goes for a walk.” 
― Raymond I. Myers

It is Sunday afternoon. The warm rays and perfect blue sky make it impossible to stay inside for long. Ellen and Scout and I just got back in from a walk in the coulee; we maybe covered two miles. Scout was dogging it; she and Ellen had already taken a mile and a half snowshoe trip up the a logging road to the ridge top, across the top and down the Grouse Hollow path. Scout covers at least three times as far without snowshoes checking out every set of tracks and or spot where some animal or other has passed or stopped.

Ellen and I talked about the day, we discussed supper -marinated and grilled pork chops, asparagus, rolls, potatoes, and salad - we noticed changes in the woods – more downed trees and brush to clear; we speculated on the forecast snow storm that is reportedly going to dump a pile of white stuff on us in the next couple of days; we talked of our kids and discussed summer plans for Canada and Colorado. I asked her if she had any other place or any activity she really wanted to do this summer and she said, “Northern Wisconsin.” Great minds think alike; I want to pull the boat up and explore some new lakes. Fortune has smiled on us as our friend, Curt Christensen bought a home in Minocqua recently, so we have a base from which to explore. Curt tells us he has some great restaurants to try; oh yeah. We talked a bit about some changes to the house we need and/or would like to do; we need to update the insulation in our attic and we want to update our bedroom walls, floors, closet and furniture. We also talked about fixing up the downstairs bathroom. We didn't talk about money. Everyone should go for a walk every day if they can.

Anyway, Vince Ruetten, Ellen, and I went ice fishing on Saturday afternoon. Vinny had a hot tip that they were catching perch below the Lansing Dike somewhere. We drove down there and didn't like the lay of the land, or ice. There were no cars near the spot and no one had gone out across the slough to get to the back waters as far as we could tell, so we opted to move on. We stopped on the dike where a man was walking out across a stretch of ice. He said he had been there and caught only 1 fish since 7:30 AM. A warden pulled up and he reported that he had been at Cold Springs and it didn't appear as if anyone was catching fish there. He said that these were the kinds of days, warm and sunny, that made him love his job the most because he was able to get out and walk. I get that officer, but after recently reading Under A Poacher's Moon by Steve Dewald, you can have your job. Too much stress and danger.

We decided to try Green Lake in Blackhawk Park. At the parking lot, people were coming out in droves. One trio said that three men had never worked so hard for no fish. We ended up at back Stoddard Bay. There were trucks and cars on the ice all over the place; the only think missing was the polk sound track from Grumpy Old Men; we opted to hike. Vince said that his wife would kill him if he put their Durango through the ice.

Ellen pulled the sled loaded with our gear ahead of we slower mortals. I put out some tip ups and Vinny moved from hole to hole with his Marcum flasher – to no avail. Ellen caught two small perch and I got one smaller. Vince sacrificed bait a couple of times before we called it a day.

Back at the ranch, our neighbors Gregg and Cindy Sikora were coming back in from a snowshoe trip up on our ridge. They were kidless for the night, so we asked them in and caught up on the family news and coulee gossip over cocktails and chips. They still have a lot to learn to love the empty nest idea.

Until next time, get out - “Walking in the morning takes you to beautiful places where light and shade make love.” ― Prof. Mohamed Shareef.  Well put, Mo; I love when Scout takes me on our morning walks, especially now that it is almost light out. Oh, if you are interested in spending some time in northern Wisconsin this summer, you might check out: http://wisconsinstateparks.reserveamerica.com/ for possible camping sites.  Oh, yeah get ready to change your clocks this weekend.  Enjoy.

Some new shots from Ellen's Camera

Our ridgetop in mid-January 2013

Ellen's pet black squirrel

The Oak Stand oak tree 

The Downed Barn at sunrise 

The Downed barn at sunrise

Scout at the ridge top field gate in the morning

Some frosty fox tail

Snow sculptures in the fence row

More snow art in the fence row

The ridge top field gate

Frosty crab tree at sunrise

Grouse Hollow Journal for February 28, 2013 by Greg Koelker

Grouse Hollow Journal for February 28, 2013 by Greg Koelker

I went to war last weekend. I prepared all last week by researching the enemy, the terrain, and by arming myself with what I thought would help me be victorious in battle. I was able to borrow some necessary technology from one of the guys in my carpool, and got what I hoped was the right ammunition and armaments at Farm and Fleet and Gander Mountain and ACE Sportsland. By Thursday evening, I was loaded and ready to drive the Ranger to Eastern Wisconsin and do battle, that is the Battle On Bago fishing tournament! I again attended this growing Wisconsin fisheree with my nephews Jason and Jared Junk and Ned Schauf and this year, Matt, a hard fishing contractor friend of Jared's who reminded me a great deal of the actor – and I mean this as a compliment - Philip Seymour Hoffman.

Anyway, after a fairly late Friday night at my nephew Jared Junk's home in rural Richfield, the Saturday morning started at zero-dark-30. We had a cup of coffee, pulled on boots, loaded heavy coats and coveralls, buckets, and other gear, and headed out into the cold, windy eastern Wisconsin flatland weather. We managed to squeeze five grown men in Jared's SUV. (Jason took pity on me with the age before beauty rule and I got to ride shotgun.)

About 20 minutes into our trip north to Lake Winnebago, Jared had an Aha Moment, or maybe it was an Uh Oh moment. He suddenly remembered he forgot our fisheree tickets. He made an under the four-lane and up around the on-ramp U-turn and back we went to his house. He ran in and returned with our $35 entry tickets and we were again on our way. We stopped for a breakfast sandwich and fuel. (Jared's wife had the makings of breakfast sandwiches for us at the house but we were in too much of a hurry.) We made another “necessary” stop at a store in what I think was a town called Van Dane, across the street from Wendt's On The Lake Restaurant, Landing, and Snowmobile repair. At this stop, Jared saw a fishing guide acquaintance of his who said he was heading out to meet someone, so we should follow him. He pointed out a couple spots for panfish and perch. Anyway, we thanked him and decided to try out on the big lake for walleye or white bass, something that would be big enough to place in the 4,000 person plus tournament.

The ice was close to 2 feet thick, but it was heaved up all along the shore a few hundred yards out and out in the middle – those heaves are dangerously unsafe. We slipped off our seat belts as we drove onto the ice. I also kept my fingers on the window switch – just in case. We drove to a “bridge” (basically two-lane steel ramps placed over the ice heave) put out by a local fishing club and took our turn in a row of vehicles slipping out to the deep water. Jared drove to a spot marked on his GPS. We piled out and Jared and Jason went all Swiss Cheese on us, starting up their power augers and drilling a couple dozen holes in the ice around us. We all used electronic flashers to look for fish. We marked fish too. They show up as yellow lines that turn green and ultimately turn red on the flasher screen as the fish comes closer. You can see your bait on the flasher too. When a red mark and your bait come together on the screen, get ready. It didn't happen much.

A raw wind blew steadily and it snowed. I caught one 11-inch crappie. The other guys got a few small perch. We moved from hole to hole our backs to the wind. I was really thankful for my Iceman boots, Air Force issue fur hat, and heavy coat. We fished with minnow tipped Swedish Pimples, jigging Rapalas, ice jigs with wax worms and spikes, and I even tried some Gulp artificial minnows. Nuttin' honey.

At one point we had another Eureka moment when we realized we forgot the food we had for the day back at Jared's. The tickets Jared forgot back at the house were actually under one of the bags of cookies Ellen sent along. Jared's wife Sonia texted him mid-morning, “Do you dopes know you forgot your food?” I wanted him to text her back to see if she would drive up with the food, but he decided on the better part of valor. Fortunately, Matt had a huge bag of peanuts and another of jerky. We had water and beer, so we survived.

We could have eaten our fish in an emergency, but I would have starved. The sun came out and we finally drove along a marked ice road to Pipe and made the long trek south around Lake Winnebago back to Wendt's and the first of the two panfish spots we had got the tip on earlier – after a stop for more food. You tell we were in premium Packer country. There was green and gold everything in almost every direction. At the counter, a very harried-looking high school girl checked me out after finishing an argument with an angry gent who only wanted a few wax worms and not dozens of them in a cottage cheese container-sized pack, which was all she had left. She looked after him like she could have cried, but it could have been the long line of fishermen behind me, waiting to tear into their candy bars, chips, and whatever too.

Lake Winnebago is decorated with lots of large permanent ice fishing shacks. Many were for the sturgeon spearing season that was still going on. As we passed Wendt's bar, we saw two maybe 40-inch sturgeon hanging from a meat pole outside. At dusk when we left there was a huge sturgeon hanging from the pole. That must have been something trying to get that critter up out of the ice.

Anyway, we caught a nice mess of panfish at the “hot tip” spot. Okay, we didn't include me. I lost some bait to something, but never hooked anything.

Back at Jared and Sonia's we ordered triple decker cheeseburgers and fries from a nearby bar. The boys cleaned fish while I watched a special on John Lennon. I had no problem falling off to dreamland this night.

Late on Sunday morning, I played “bumble bee” and “tickle monster” with little Carter and chatted with Ned while Sonia and Jared made a huge breakfast of French toast casserole and quiche – made from some of the left behind supplies from the day before.

I got under way to the west, about mid-morning. I filled up near Richfield and was surprised to see that I got 19.9 mpg with the Ranger. When I told Ellen about the truck's mileage, she speculated that it must be because of the extra we are paying for a gallon of fuel right now that makes it better and provide more energy – or my math skills could have interferred. Hmmm . . .

On Friday afternoon, I left De Soto and took Highway 14 to Arena where I turned on County 19 to get around Madison. Bad choice. Later I was talking to Ellen on the phone when the GPS said to take I-94 south, as I came to it. I had planned to go under the I and keep on 19 for a long ways yet, but I forgot I guess. Anyway, I ended up 18 miles outside of Milwaukee and had to drive over an half-an-hour north to Richfield. On Sunday morning, I took Highway 60 back to Lodi and I-94 West to La Crosse. When I drove into Hustiford, there were two blaze orange clad fishermen on the edge of the river ice reaching poles into the open channel. You have to wonder if they were wearing the orange so searchers could find their bodies later. Anyway, I cooked Sunday supper – Rocky Rococo Pizza and started this.

Until next time, get out – don't forget to mark you calendar to remember to get your fishing license renewed by the end of this month. Enjoy.