Tom grew up in Milwaukee, bartended in Wauwatosa in the '70s and moved here in 1984.
Commentary, observations and musings about the outdoors, life in general and maybe Tosa politics and personalities will be the order of the day. He savors a lively debate as much as terrific cooking.
The major ruckus of the big deer camp extravaganza is now behind. The last shot of camp was a snapshot miss by yours truly. There’s a big buck somewhere that is yucking it up over my poor marksmanship. Oh well.
At the farm with a 1st season turkey permit. And it has been an inauspicious start.
Next month brings the spring turkey hunting season. And the truth of the matter is that I've been more than a little concerned about these big birds over the last few months. With deep snows and brutally cold weather as I was scouting I wasn't seeing any birds at all. Thoughts turned to all sorts of bad scenarios. Was it possible that there were starving, frozen and dying birds? For sure this was a possibility in the northernmost reaches of Wisconsin. As it turns-out northeastern Wisconsin was another matter. All of a sudden - poof! The birds were back.
It's a remarkable day when 22 degrees feels perfectly tropical. The recent cold snap probably got your attention. It sure got mine. Twice. First, when it happened and again the other day when I saw the We Energies bill. Yikes! It's easy to feel sorry for yourself (and your old Tosa bungalow) when the monthly heating bill creeps over a couple a hundred bucks. But I'll adapt.
My pal Braumeister, the blonde Lab and I are up at the farm bow hunting and hanging-out. It’s been raining steadily so the gardens are a sucking morass and the potatoes unharvested. Between torrential bouts of monsoons we did get the firewood stacked. Since I still cannot hunt and Brau still hasn’t gotten a deer we dined on grilled pork steaks from the local butcher.
For some folks Labor Day signals the arrival of fall. The camper is cleaned and stowed and the children return to school. For a couple of weeks I've been saying to anybody willing to listen that there is a hint of autumn in the air.
As I was taking my recycling cart to the curb recently it occured to me that it was largely full of expired gardening journals, newspaper food sections, bowhunting, turkey hunting, pheasant hunting, NRA magazines, and Wisconsin Outdoor News. It was an eclectic collection of reading material for sure.
The Door County Fish Farm and Game Club does much to promote the rich heritage of hunting, fishing and trapping on the peninsula. For instance, last weekend I walked to the other side of the road to congratulate a youngster who had traversed the field with a big old gobbler slung over his shoulder. I heard the single report of a shotgun only thirty minutes earlier. The answer to the Ford pick-up materializing on the shoulder of the road before sunrise was revealed. He had been hunting with an adult mentor during Wisconsin's youth hunt.
If you are looking for a source of tested and proven recipes there is nothing like getting ahold of a church cookbook. You can count on the fact that the church ladies are going to submit only those recipes that are proven successes - both in the preparation and in the consumption. Anything less might invite a discouraging word.
Took the last part of the week off and headed north to do some late season deer hunting. New Guy, Brau and Timothy Leary are here at camp. The blonde dog too. There's a crock pot of venison stroganoff bubbling on the counter top, a fire in the wood burner, everyone has showered and the cocktail hour joking has commenced. One last stab at another deer tomorrow morning. It's the last hurrah before surgery.
I'm going to take the politics out of the forest and put the deer back in. Campaign promise - Governor Scott Walker.
It was early Monday morning when Braumeister and I rolled-up to The Refuge to fetch our pheasants from the freezer. This was the close to a singularly memorable pheasant hunt for the usual gang.
Braumeister, Smokey Joe and I spent a quality weekend bow hunting - last weekend. We saw a pile of deer but nothing close enough to kill with a well-placed arrow.