Grouse Hollow Journal for the week of September 26, 2013 by Greg Koelker

Last week week I turned 95 years old.  And I never exercised a day in my life.  Every morning I wake up, and I smoke a cigarette.  And then I eat five strips of bacon.  And for lunch, I eat a bacon sandwich.  And for a midday snack?
Bacon!  A whole damn plate !  And I usually drink my dinner. 

Ellen with an 18" smallmouth bass caught on her now famous pink jig and a minnow in a small lake south of Minocqua.

And another one!  This one is 19 inches and she hooked it with the same jig, same lake.  

You know I enjoy writing, but this is crazy. I am in here typing when I could be out in the sunshine on a Sunday morning. Later . . .

Okay, I am back. I went out to work on a project in my shop and listen to the pre-game and then the Packers spin, crash, and burn at Cincinnati. This is a family newspaper, so I won't write what I am thinking now that it is over. If it was a comic strip it would probably read: @#$%^!!! Scout hid under the truck. You get the idea. Anyway, we have tickets and a hotel for the Atlanta game in December so I hope they improve by then. Win, lose, or draw we will always be Packer fans, but @#$%^!! the Bengals? Such is life.

The waterfowl hunting report from several Stoddard duck hunters is that there were few ducks anywhere on opening day. My octogenarian friend Bud Veal of Stoddard, likes to say, “All the old duck hunters I used to hunt with in the old days are gone or don't hunt any more, but I am still out there,” as he puts it. His nephew Rick told me that they managed to kill three ducks down in the Rush Creek area on opening day. Rick said the “Secret Spot” was too shallow to hunt. Bud is still the best wing shot I have ever hunted with. (I will probably get out with Bud and Rick yet this fall though, as they really want me to hunt with them; uh, actually I know it is that they covet the retrieving services of Scout. We shall see.) Anyway, I didn't go out yet. I am planning a waterfowl hunting safari to North Dakota with my old friend Doug Ledbury next month. I am taking the spot of our dear friend Greg Lenz who passed away recently after a battle with cancer. @#$%^ cancer!!! Anyway, that will be another story.

Last week, Ellen and I and her sister Barb and Barb's husband Chuck spent the week near Boulder Junction to jointly celebrate our 1973/40^th anniversaries. Actually, 80^th anniversaries might be more appropriate - you know, 40 for Ellen and 40 for me. Anyway, we stayed at Whispering Pines Resort on Upper Gresham Lake in the Pines cabin. I am familiar with Upper Gresham after taking dozens of teenagers fishing along its weed beds on our Jag Lake FFA trip every summer since 1997. El and I stopped to see our old friend Curt Christensen at his new home in Hazelhurst before we went into camp. He lives in a gated community in the pines with lots of deer and turkeys and a golf course near by. We visited with “C” and then drove the 20 miles to our lodge to check in. That evening El and I caught lots of SMALL panfish on Upper Gresham. It was beautiful out with loons crying in the distance and eagles and seagulls swooping down to check out whether or not we had killed any small fish for them to dine on. It was also cold; we both had our hoods up on our Carharts jackets by the time we headed in to the cabin and dinner.

We ate well, drank well, and the fishing was interesting even if the catching was not great. We fished Island Lake, Allequash Lake, Big Lake, Whitney Lake, Gun Lock Lake, Shishebogama Lake, Bolger Lake, and Upper Gresham. Between the four of us, we had enough fish filets for one fish fry on the last day fishing. We ate bass, bluegills, pumpkin seeds, crappies, and perch (many caught off the dock) with baked potatoes, fresh garden sweetcorn, and tomato slices. On Sunday we took a bucket of deli chicken to Curt's to watch the Packer game. (Much better than the game this week, grrr . . .)

We made new friends too. Jerry and Chris from Chicago were our next door neighbors. They were not fishing, just enjoying the festivals and farmer's markets and north woods. They gave us one of a bunch of long green meaty tomatoes they bought at a market that looked more like a giant jalapeno pepper. They also picked a bucket of the abundant black berries in the woods near the resort. Chuck struck up a conversation with a couple of musky fishermen at the Big Lake landing and got a tip on a couple of lakes to try for panfish. They even gave us a map of Shishebogama. (While we were waiting in the landing parking lot up the hill from the landing for Barb and Chuck to get their boat on the trailer, Ellen noticed that Chuck had his shirt off. It was not hot. He had more off than that. It turned out that he had slipped of the trailer tongue while tying his boat on and took a dip! Very funny. Even more odd that it happened to someone besides me for a change.)

The best catching came on Wednesday when Ellen and I were trying to fish over a crib in the wind, catching mostly small ones when El said, “Oh, I got on something big.” It proved to be an 18” smallmouth bass; half hour later, she caught a 19” smallmouth bass in the same spot. She landed them both on a 1/8 oz. pink jig with a crappie minnow. (This pink jig is from the same package as the one she used to catch the big ones in Canada in June.) She is still telling me how her arms hurt from landing those fish. She also was kind enough to say she had a good guide. I caught one keeper bluegill and a bunch of small perch that were puking out minnows as I released them.

The girls and I took several long walks while Chuck fished on the dock. I took them over to Jag Lake and showed off the FFA camp that I love so much. Jag was obviously up from July when I was there. Boulder Junction recorded a 7-inch rainfall one night in early August they say. The rest of the weather was different than here. The wind didn't stop much all week. The air was cold then cool and dry and then it rained one night, and by Thursday it was muggy and the air around the cabin hummed with skeeters. The trip home revealed fall color beginning to show. There were red maples and sumac shocking the rest of the greenery along Highway 52, and the short cut fields were covered with huge flocks of canada geese.

Anyway, it is time to start thinking about bow hunting here at Grouse Hollow. Eli Jackson was here on Saturday morning with some trail cam pics from around our farm that even make my blood begin to boil. We shall see.

Until next time, get out - Ben and Mark and Drew out in Colorado had their Uncle Bill and his friends out in the mountains in search of elk this last week. We hear they heard and saw plenty, but we will know more later. I think a squirrel hunt and a river panfish trip may be in order this week. Enjoy.