Near Water

 

Near Water

11/20/24

                                         “Just drop me off near water.”

My friend had an appointment to get his motor home serviced at the Mercedes dealer in State College Tuesday. He needed someone to follow him down being it may take a day or two to get it repaired. I told him I would follow him on one condition, he lets me fish while we’re down there.

He is a sales representative for Triple S Sporting Supplies. He told me while we’re down there he has 4 or 5 sporting good stores he plans on visiting. He said that dropping me off somewhere to fish wasn’t a problem. He made reservations in a hotel in Altoona. The Little J River wasn’t that far so I was kind of excited.

After we dropped off the RV on Tuesday we checked into the hotel. It was late in the afternoon so I stuck with him while he visited the sport shops. After that we got something to eat and spent some time at a brewery. 

 

  Wednesday Morning he was on his computer and making phone calls making sure the owners were going to be at the shops he planned on visiting. I went and got some hotel breakfast while he was working. It was a gloomy morning that looked like possible rain North of us. I took the time to switch my fly gear to my rain jacket while waiting for him. By the time we got going it was near 9:00am.

  We hadn’t had any rain for weeks and I knew the water level of the river would be low. I hadn’t fished for quite a few weeks because I’ve been hunting and the weather wasn’t all that great. I was just excited to get out.

  He was going to head South of Altoona to visit the sporting good shops. The Frankstown Branch of the Juniata wasn’t very far from where we were staying. Though I knew that Spruce Creek or the Little J would be a more productive place to fish it was North of us and I didn’t, neither did he, want to travel in that direction. We looked at the map and found a section of the Frankstown Branch that was on his way. I had never fished that section nor did we know the water conditions. I just told him, as we drove, “Just drop me off near water!”

  Along the road we pulled over and I went down to the branch. The water was pretty shallow but there were some riffling water that maybe some trout were holding in. It looked good enough for me and I went up to the car and got my gear on. I assembled my 5 weight 9’ fly rod and grabbed a couple of cigars. He told me he’ll be back in a couple of hours to pick me up to go get the RV. He took off and I walked along the road, up stream, until I found a path through the overgrown brush to the stream.

  Down at the stream I threaded the fly line threw the rod eyes and attached a Woolly Bugger. Because of the shallow water, that was no more than shin deep, I didn’t expect to catch anything. I lit up a cigar and took my time casting across the narrow stream and letting the bugger drift. I guess it was more practice casting and not expecting any hook ups. Kind of like a golfer going to the driving range. He isn’t going to hit 9 or 18 holes but just practice his swing to keep in shape. Besides, I was alone enjoying a cigar on a trout stream.

  Down stream, after the shallow riffles, the water got somewhat deeper but slower current. A small stream also entered the main flow but I wasn’t sure if it was the same branch that happen to split upstream of the island or was a smaller creek entering. The bugger or Triple Threat streamer I was using wasn’t being helpful. I tied on a small wet fly and had the same results. By now the sun was overhead shining down on the gin clear water. Maybe any trout in the hole might have seen me or there may of not been any. I wasn’t upset though. In fact it was just a joy of a chance to get out.

  I knotted on a small bead head flashback and started to cast upstream into the riffles of the narrower stream. I only had a single nymph on figuring I would get snagged on the bottom should I use a tandem set up. I was holding the rod pretty much level with the flow and keeping it swinging with the flow watching my leader. On one cast upstream, as I was watching my leader, the line straightened. I quickly jerked the rod back and felt a little resistance. Then the line started to quiver with a small fish on the other end. I kept the line tight. That small trout was no match for the 5 weight as I brought him to my hand easily. A nice small wild brown trout took my nymph.

 

 Well that was encouraging. I let him go and took a few easy puffs of my cigar before continuing.

 

  I stuck with the flash back and proceeded to fish upstream as before. I had another take that at first I thought I had snagged bottom. I jerked the rod back anyhow as if setting the hook on a fish. To my surprise the line straightened and I felt the tip of the rod bend some upstream with a fish pulling. It didn’t feel very big but felt bigger than the one I had just caught. It turned down stream in an instant and my leader hung off the rod tip in slack bends. I couldn’t bring in line fast enough to keep a tight line. I watched the leader swing down stream, in front of me, in a limp strand like a broken clothes line in a whirlwind. Once I got the line straightened I felt the trout was still on and tugging to get away. I kept the rod high and slowly brought him towards me. I took out my net and gathered him in.

 

 That was pretty cool! I caught two trout that I really didn’t expect to catch any because of the shallow water conditions and being it’s November.

  I fished for another half hour I guess before my phone rang and he was headed back to pick me up. I waded upstream to find a place I could climb the bank to the road without much problem. While waiting for him I unclothed some of my heavy clothes I was wearing as the warm sunshine beat down on me like I was in a suntanning booth. Once I got some clothes off I felt more comfortable except for the chest waders I was wearing.

At his vehicle, as I was changing out of my fishing clothes, he asked me if I caught any trout? I just smiled, which gave it away, and said, “All you had to do is drop me off near water!”

~doubletaper

Turkey Down

 

Turkey Down

11/05/24

 It was a mild Tuesday morning, maybe in the lower 50’s, which is kind of warm for this early in November here in PA. It was to get close to 70 degrees by noon. It was still dark out but the light of the morning was still rising behind the tall hill across the river. I was dressed in camouflage from head to toe with my back against a big tree waiting for the first clucks of the turkeys across the river. My 12 gauge double barrel shotgun lay upon my lap loaded with 2 3” mags.

  Saturday the turkeys were roosting across the river, upon the steep hillside, which I’ve come to acknowledge the past few years. They roost in the pines overnight but each morning they fly over to my side of the river to feed. When I was camping a few weeks ago they were there and did just that. I’ve got 2 birds in the past few years and I was waiting for my third.

  Saturday they flew over but instead of feeding towards me they fed and rustled leaves from my right to my left out in front of me a piece. I was afraid I wasn’t going to get a shot as they passed so I picked one out, aimed at its head, and took the shot. Maybe they were a bit too far but I was sure I downed a turkey before from that distance. I rolled it as I saw its wings spread eagle. The other turkeys flapped their wings near by in shock. The one I shot at got up and I let the second barrel sound off. Some immediately took off back towards the river and flew across. I ran towards the rest of the flock hoping to scatter them in case I didn’t kill the one I shot at. My friend was somewhere up the hill behind me. When I got to where I shot the turkey there was no sign of the turkey or feathers. I reloaded my shotgun and looked in the trees for another turkey but apparently the rest of the flock turned and took off towards the river like a bunch of scared chickens being chased by a fox. The turkeys never flew back over the rest of the morning.

  Monday morning came and my friend and I set up a little closer to where the turkeys flew over and landed. My friend Rusty put up a camouflage net and stood a decoy to my left about 25 yards or so. We sat on each side of a big oak waiting for daylight and the calls of the turkeys across the river. To make a long, Monday morning story short, they never did fly over.

  Each morning, for about a few 100 yards stretch across the river, you can hear turkeys clucking and purring in the early light. There were at least 2 flocks and maybe three strung out along the other side of the river. When we started to hear the morning clucks Rusty started to call softly at times to get them to cross over. We heard them fly down from their roosts and it sounded as if they were at rivers edge a couple of times but wouldn’t fly over. We would both call now and then trying to encourage them but they never flew over. Near 11 we gave up and went back to the camper.

  In further thought I figured, being there were a couple of flocks across the river, the ones we were after didn’t want to mingle with another flock. It’s like a gang not wanting to cause trouble or get into a fist fight with another gang that got to the breakfast diner first. They even were afraid to cross the street. I believe we gave the turkeys we were after the impression there was another flock of turkeys, where they wanted to fly over, and that’s why they didn’t come over.

  The past few years I never had to, nor did I, ever call them over. I knew they would fly over and just hoped they would fly over and land or feed near me.

  Well, this Tuesday I sat alone at the same tree Rusty and I sat on Monday morning. The morning opened like any other morning as the crows starting to caw the first sight of light. Softly I heard a couple of putts and maybe a chirp or two across the river but not as anxiously as the last couple of mornings. Down river a flock of turkey were carrying on like a bunch of women at a Chippendales show. The ones across the river from me just weren’t too talkative yet. In fact most of the clucks I head were down some towards my camper. As morning light grew brighter, and hearing turkeys elsewhere, I discarded my thoughts of moving. I could still hear the cackling down river and was pretty sure I heard them fly across the river down there.

  As I sat in thought, my eyes were wide open searching the bare tree line for any signs of movement and my ears listening for any signs of life. The sky was like a sheet of smokey gray color. A cool breeze could be felt now and then. The remaining sun dried leaves left o the branches rustled lightly with each light gust of wind. Other than that, and a few clucks now and then from across the river, it was pretty quiet. All of a sudden, without a warning, 3 turkeys flew over my head and landed somewhere behind me on the hillside that I knew was too far too shoot. Their wings sounded like the wooshing sound of a wind turbine until they glided down to earth. As I turned my head to look three more flew over my head or at least near to where I sat. I turned towards the river waiting for one to fly between the river and me. I knew there were more turkeys to come so I waited patiently with my elbow resting on my bent knee holding my shotgun in the ready position. Two birds flew about 100 yards to my right closer to a knoll that overlooked the river and between my camper and where I sat. The camper was a few 100 yards to my right so I wasn’t worried about shooting in that direction if need be. I was still waiting for others to fly over when one turkey behind me, on the hillside, started to cluck as if letting the others know the coast is clear. I had lost sight of the other two down to my right but when I heard the one behind me starting to cluck they appeared within my vision. The turkey calling was up the hill to my right. The 2 turkeys were taking their time walking towards the clucking turkey. I knew they were going to get closer to me if they kept walking towards the clucking. I shifted the shotgun to my right and picked out an opening, through the forest, I was sure they’d pass through. Maybe it was a little further than I wanted but I figured, in open view without any interference, my 3” mag should connect and do some damage on contact.

I watched as the 2 turkeys calmly walked into the opening without a fear in the world. My safe was already off and, with the barrel already lifted towards them, I looked down the rail and positioned the bead on one of the turkeys head and pulled the trigger. I felt the recoil against my shoulder and saw the bird tumble flapping its wings without her head showing after the blast. The other turkey turned and took off towards the river like a scared chicken. I head the wings of a couple of turkeys flying. One went over my head back towards the river. Another flew high in the tree just above where my turkey was having his death roll. Behind me I heard another take flight and headed towards the river.

I sat patiently watching my helpless turkey flopping around like a chicken with it’s head chopped off until it disappeared behind an uprooted tree trunk. I watched the other turkey, in the tree above it, as it looked around trying to figure out where the blast came from? It was if she was some news reporter gathering information of the killing of her friend to report back to the others on the morning news report. I watched as she finally left the branch and flew towards the hillside behind me. I stood and clipped my hot seat to my belt loop, opened the break-open double barrel and slipped the empty shell out of the lower barrel. I replaced it with a fresh 3” mag load and clicked the over-under shut. I started to stride my way to the downed turkey counting each step. It took 62 paces to reach where my turkey first fell. Behind the uprooted stump my bird lay, with its wings stretched, and head cocked in an uncomfortable position. I looked at my watch before taking hold o the bird and it was 6:46. I field dressed the turkey and tagged it before heading back to my camper.

 

 After hanging the turkey up, from a tree branch, I switched clothing to orange and decided to squirrel hunt being it was still early and cool out. I figured I would let the turkey drain out before defeathering it. Anyhow I did get one more squirrel before returning to my dead hen before it got too warm out.

 

 I started to pluck the turkey but it took too long and tedious that I decided to just skin it. There wasn’t a BB in any part of its body except for its bloody neck. The 3” mag 5 shot made a vital hit! 

 

 After cleaning it up good, along with the squirrel, I wrapped the turkey in freezer paper, put it in a plastic bag and laid it in my big cooler I brought for such an occasion. Then I hung the tail up on my success line with the squirrel tails.

 

  Before taking off to vote, I put the cooler in the bed of my pickup. I took out a rewarding cigar and lit it up and puffed on it on my way driving to the voting booth.

 

~doubletaper