Everything Outdoors with Chalen

CAUTION: Many wild foods have look-alikes, and some may be poisonous. Never eat any wild plant unless you are certain of its identity.

November is a time of harvest in the woods! Our many varied hunting seasons really ramp up, kick off, and take over the month for many people. But while you are out an about, there are still a couple of things to keep an eye out for.

Deer/Venison

No one can talk November without thinking about that fabled and hard fought protein that is venison. Incredibly lean and bursting with flavor, venison is some of the best protein on the block. Well beyond backstraps and tenderloins, try some unique preparations such as smoked heart, deer ham, or consider not eating any of it yourself, and donate a doe to share the harvest, which can take a single deer and feed numerous families around Missouri.

Rose Hips

Packed with vitamin C and filled with the last reminders of summer, the little red fruits called rose hips are nearing their end in November. If you haven’t had a hard frost in your area just yet, you can still collect rose hips that remain after the flowers have faded. They can be made into a tea, tinctured, and cooked down for syrups. Just keep an eye out for the irritating little hairs often found covering the fruits.

Suckers

Cold weather brings another staple of the Ozarks, gigging for suckers, back to the forefront. These bony fish are tough to hook on convention tackle, and are best gigged at night when it’s cold enough to freeze your hands to the gig. Cooking wise, these fish are skinned and scored, then fried in hot oil to dissolve the tiny, but annoying bones traversing the meat. Piping hot with some hush puppies, often right beside the river they are caught from, suckers are a particular delicacy that i must recommend.

The cold weather may be slowing down some things, but for avid outdoors enthusiasts, the fun is just beginning. Plenty to do and see, and plenty of opportunity to fill the table as well as the soul with time spent in nature.

The grass crunches underfoot
on my way to the creekbank
“Fire Danger: High”
reads the sign at the trailhead
too dry, much too dry lately

The walk is longer than it used to be
the water, retreating downstream
has left less of the creek there
the sun on near still pools
seem more intense
or perhaps simply concentrated
the same sun on less water
low water.

The fish that remain
those that did not flee with the water
are hungered by the staleness of the water
barely moving, bringing them no food
but in their shaded hides and cut bank hollows
they lurk
waiting for drifting insects
waiting, hoping for morsels

As I work upstream
casting into the minute shaded pockets
the water shows what life it has left
the ravenous inhabitants dart from safety
and taking no caution
attack my fly with abandon

Swift and stout
darting in blues, greens, oranges
punching well above their weight
the miscellany of panfish fight
much more than their fingerling size

One after another they come
small, but sturdy
and in such numbers
that in telling about it later
I must leave a few out to be believed

Walking what was once the creekbed
I make note
of features once hidden
and when the water returns
I will know the haunts and snags
that fish will call home
a sad advantage afforded anglers
by low water

A broad bend shows the time worn channels
where the creek has run
leaving a pool
now amputated from the flow of the creek
where the water has warmed
and film coats the surface

I almost miss it
casually passing in the corner of my eye
a hint of movement
the lazed flick of a fin

A closer look discloses
in the tepid pool
a gar
the toothy, torpedo-shaped dinosaur
trapped in a shrinking vessel

To catch a gar is always a joy
but this feel different
to catch it, yes
but to set it free
in the diminishing water

The fish seems lethargic
no fly can rise it
what to do?
how to stay the certain demise
should it remain
The needle-like teeth
gleam at me as I enter the pool
the gar drifts aimlessly
making no effort to escape

I’m close now
bending slowly, I reach down
slowly cradling the fish
gently lifting it from the water
It makes no struggle
no thrashing or jerks
the gar seems dull
less slimy than I’m used to

As I walk it over to the remaining channel
it slowly rotates its fins
yearning towards the water
I slip it into the water
and for a moment it hangs motionless
then effortlessly it glides towards cover

Leaving only a memory
of low water.

Back in August, my wife Julia and I spent a week in Oklahoma City. She had a work function to attend, and I had some PTO to burn. So while she was in classes all day, I was free to work on some writing and research, roam about town, and relax. We were able to spend an evening walking around Bricktown, taking in a bustling downtown. But on another evening, we went to walk the lakeshore at Lake Hefner. This beautiful lake was running more than 10 feet low in the intense drought, and a lot of the lakebed was now shoreline.

Although warm, we enjoyed the evening walk, and had the chance to find a number of geocaches! As we approached the lake, we noticed the small lighthouse, patterned after the second oldest lighthouse in the US. Standing on the point of East Wharf, the lighthouse is a popular focal point on the lakeshore. We headed toward the lighthouse for a closer look and noticed some commotion in the riprap along the wharf. A small brown critter darting in and out of the rocks, and some children shouting. As we approached, I was able to get a good enough look to determine that the slick brown creature zipping across the rip rap was a mink!

I was able to get a fuzzy picture of this sharp little critter right before it dashed into a hole. This is a trend that repeated the next day as I was fishing at Lake Hefner and Lake Overholser. I grew up roaming the woods, trapping, hunting, and generally being outside, but never have I seen mink so thick as I saw in Oklahoma City. They were everywhere around the two large reservoirs I fished, darting in and out of the riprap banks in search of mussels and small fish, which were also in no short supply.

All in all, this mid-August diversion was a much needed break that allowed me time to jumpstart this blog and get outside more than I had been. The beauty of Oklahoma City was worth the drive, and I hope to return again to watch mink roam the shores as I toss a jig or watch a bobber, crunching along the bank, strewn with mussel shells.

I always love going home to the farm. There is something about going back to where my passion for the outdoors began that makes each trip so special. Taking my son fishing with my father and grandfather, helping him catch fish and explore the same places I explored in my youth. On our most recent trip back, my wife Julia and I stopped by a long forgotten farm pond to test the waters.

We were quick to be rewarded with some chunky little panfish, Julia throwing a green and black trout magnet, one of our favored prospecting lures, and myself swinging a small soft hackle on my tenkara rod. This pond was low, like many here in Missouri right now, and we had a little better access for it. What used to be a pretty steep bank due to years of cattle use more than two decades ago has softened to a more casual slope. Getting right to the water’s edge was critical for me, with my limited cast range.

We continued to fish as the sunk sank in the sky, pulling in bluegill, redear sunfish, hybrids, white crappie, and, the triumph of the evening, a couple sassy bullheads that gave us hope for returning to this pond in the future. Having lost a couple flies to bad knots, I was tying them on more carefully, but as we ran out of daylight, I knew we were nearing the end of our excursion.

Just as I was pondering packing up, Julia hollered at me from across the pond. She had caught an unassuming green sunfish, that, given what we found, was particularly voracious. Hammering down on another of her trout magnets, this was one of the very fish I had lost a fly to earlier! There, in the corner of the jaw, was my fly, which went back into my box for the next trip. As we cruised back up the gravel road to my parent’s house, where our son was playing around the campfire with his cousin, it was tough to imagine a more relaxing place than the farm.

Like most people who enjoy hunting fishing, and generally carousing around in the outdoors, I’ve had the great fortune to see some truly incredible things. The kinds of things only seen by those who have spent an inordinate amount of time being present in the outdoors to experience whatever may happen. I was reminded of one such majestic encounter after reading an article today about the incredible effort to restore a native Missouri salamander called the Hellbender. There are no hair raising moments nor tales of daring involved, but moments of bliss and wonder as we coasted through the night.

When we left the boat launch, it wasn’t all that cold. Sure we could see our breath in the air a bit, and we all had coats on preparing for the cold that approached with the early sinking winter sun. There were four of us in the mostly olive green jonboat headed out to gig for suckers. In the wintertime, these curious fish are just a bit slower and just a bit more accessible than usual, and the season opens to try our skill at hand to hand combat with the bottom of the river. That is the only way to describe my first twenty or so haphazard thrusts at a fish, oftentimes ten feet below, with refraction to contend with and an increasingly damp set of gloves. But eventually, the sixteen foot long gig, tipped with a hand-forged five pointed head, begins to feel a bit more natural in my hand, I pick up a few tenths of a second in my reaction time, and begin to connect.

The first sucker feels like a miracle, this writhing little thing a foot long on the end of the gig. Given the excitement, it is easy to see how one could forget what to to do with the fish. Turning the wrong way, always the wrong way the first few times, I swing the gig over the person on the rail next to me and in the direction of the catch bucket. There is a handy metal plate to help dislodge the sucker and deposit it in the bucket, and after no more than two minutes and five encouraging “For Christ’s sakes!” from my companions, I finally deposit the fish.

The next few come easier, and as we move up and down the river, we start picking off fish, getting so bold as to look for the “right” size of suckers for ideal consumption. By the time I switch off so another person has some time at the rail, I’ve just remembered it is cold, and I’m wet from the shoulders down to my fingertips, which I can no longer feel. But it doesn’t matter. The night is full of wonders. I sit back and grab a quick drink, some beef jerky, and warm my fingers with the exhaust from the generator running the lights.

So far in addition the the sought after suckers, we’ve seen catfish, bass, even a walleye, none of which are in the cards for gigging prospects. The occasional turtle scoots across the water, and rustling draws our eyes to the river’s edge where slick shined looking beavers much away at tender twigs. I’m back at the rail, and now it is cold enough that ice is forming on the gigs as they come out of the water. The fishing has slowed a bit, and we want a few more to make a good mess for eating. Scanning the riverbed in a silty section, looking at nothingness in the bright light of the buzzing halogen lamp, it is easy to stop really paying attention. But as soon as you stop watching, something happens.

Suddenly something comes into view. The cold is forgotten with the prospect of another fish, but this time it is not a fish. As I peer into the water trying to decide what I’m looking at, my friend at the rail with me mentions that it looks a bit like a lizard. Not quite a lizard, but the cold shakes out of my brain and the dots connect, a hellbender. I ask our host to circle the boat as we drift by. As we round our turn, my eyes never leave the water where I think this creature was last sitting on the bottom. Memories return from articles in magazines, clips from field days, and other mentions of the mysterious and endangered hellbender.

If I’m being honest, I never thought I would see a hellbender. I looked again down into the water to see it it trundling along the bottom, headed nowhere in particular, and was astounded. A creature I had personally written off as a tragedy of the times was there in front of me. Hellbenders are not a majestic creature, but they are fascinating to watch, so for as long as I could hold my companions attention, we watched it. After a moment, it was back to gigging for suckers.

After we filled our limits and loaded the boat, we parted ways and began the trek home. During the late night drive, my mind kept drifting back to the simple pleasure of seeing a hellbender. Being outside at night is one of my favorite pastimes. Whether fishing, hunting, or camping, I never cease to be amazed at the things that can be seen. Most people would say I simply got lucky seeing this amazing amphibian, and certainly there was an element of being in the right place at the right time. But then again, the right place is in nature, and the right time is whenever you possibly can.

If You’d like to learn more about Hellbenders and their restoration efforts, follow the links below.

https://mdc.mo.gov/wildlife/wildlife-restoration/hellbender-restoration

https://www.stlzoo.org/conservation/wildcare-institute/hellbendersinmissouri

CAUTION: Many wild foods have look-alikes, and some may be poisonous. Never eat any wild plant unless you are certain of its identity.

September means lasts and firsts. First days of fall, first cool nights. Last fresh tomatoes and other garden goodies. But with the transition of the season comes the bounty of the earth. This is the beginning of harvest season for fall planted crops, for livestock, and for so many natural foods. I have a few fan favorites to share this month, and I hope you can get out an find them!

Cattails

Cattails are a near perennial food source, offering up various parts of the plant at different times of year. The low water right now is giving ample access to these edge dwelling water plants, making it easier than ever to dig up the starchy rhizomes. They can be cooked and eaten in ways similar to artichokes, stripping the starches away from the fibrous outer sheath, or ground for flour that is a fantastic baking aid and thickener.

Asparagus

This one is a bit of a cheat, but still important! While September is not an ideal time to try to harvest asparagus, it is the perfect time to locate it! Long a homestead staple, and occasionally growing feral, search old farmlands and county roads(with proper permission) for the golden blaze that is the fall foliage of the asparagus. Broiled, grilled, or sautéed, asparagus is hard to beat. Come next spring you will be glad you did your September scouting and marked where to find the tender young shoots.

Raccoon

I can hear the peanut gallery already. But, given that we have a new “management” focused early season for raccoons in my state, it seems pertinent to make sure we have something to do with them. Raccoon has been common fare in much of the Midwest and South for generations, and lends itself well to both barbeque and the pressure cooker. A classic preparation is a brief pressure cook, followed by slow roasting with sweet potatoes. With no shortage appearing anytime soon, raccoon is primed and ready for a culinary comeback.

Walnuts

The bright green fruits, often a bit larger than a golf ball, have likely been falling already for a few weeks, but if you can beat the squirrels and bugs, wild walnuts offer second to none flavor in the fall. Throw on some gloves and old clothes to avoid the semi permanent brown staining that the husks always impart, and start picking up walnuts in piles under mature trees. Then you can either let the husks begin to rot and shed naturally, or use any number of dehusking, drying, and shelling methods before putting your hard earned walnuts in the freezer for storage. They can be added to your favorite baked goods, pressed for oil, and eaten as a quick snack.

September has no shortage of opportunities for foragers and things will only get better as the fall matures. Although summertime activities may be ending, the fall will bring new challenges and chances to get out there and try new things. Happy foraging, fishing, and hunting!

CAUTION: Many wild foods have look-alikes, and some may be poisonous. Never eat any wild plant unless you are certain of its identity.

August is in full swing and while we swelter in the late summer heat, the woods and waters are full of little delicacies just waiting to be found. Many of these are common throughout my home state of Missouri and can be found without trekking far into the back country. The bounty of the woods and waters is lush this time of year, and these are only a few of the many things that you may find. Happy foraging and fishing!

Paw Paws

This Ozark delicacy brings a tropical note to the table. Paw Paws have long been renowned for their silky, custard-like texture and bright, summertime flavors. Many have compared it to a blend of banana and pineapple, well suited to blending into ice creams and custards. The small grove-like clusters of trees are typically found near flood plains on elevated slopes with rich soils. Oblong, green fruits with occasional dark bruising grow up to six inches and contain a number of large seeds that are easily removed. Expect to see these ripening into early September depending on your latitude.

Chanterelles

These golden little mushrooms let us know that fall is on the way. Although they can start popping up as early as July in some areas, they always remind me of early season scouting and bowhunting for deer. After a nice rain, the trumpet shaped fruiting bodies love to pop up near a number of common hardwoods, especially in old growth forests. Chanterelles bring a wonderful almost floral note to savory dishes, while the light hint of pepper can provide substance to the dish. Keep looking for these tasty trumpet -shaped fungi into September and possibly early October.

Carp

I know, I know. I can hear the naysayers already. But at this point, the body of evidence in favor of eating the prolific finned fiends is overwhelmingly positive. Carp, particularly the invasive varieties, are darn fine eating and can be prepared in place of any other firm whitefish. As the heat drives carp shallow, hit major lakes and mid sized rivers with some corn or dough bait, or with the help of a skilled guide, give bowfishing a try! Carp is incredibly easy to amass in large quantities and can be fried, baked, smoked, or just about any other preparation. Not only can you secure some amazing fresh protein, but at the same time help reduce a major invasive species.

August is a great month to get out and start your early season deer scouting, put in last minute food plots, hit the water for some topwater action, and more. Beat the heat cooling off in an Ozark stream or embrace the sweaty side of life hiking bluffs near the Missouri river. With fall just around the corner, things will be getting busy in the woods. August always seems like the prelude to fall, at least in mindset for me. It is where I mentally start shifting towards hunting season from a fishing focus, even though I know I’ll keep fishing until my fingers can’t crank a reel or tie a knot from the cold. As we get ready for the fall and winter activities to come, I’ll be sure to savor the warmth of summer with these luscious finds.

Abrupt, like a sharp command,
the low hum of the forest is broken,
A punctuated bark,
then another, quickly,
flattened against the trunk of an oak,
the red squirrel chatters,
warning the woods,
of my unfamiliar presence,
the watchman of the forest,
announcing unexpected guests.