Outdoors Question of the Week

The simple route can work just as well, and there is still a fair amount of summer remaining to give it a try...

I'm in the drivers seat of the boat.......mid boat belongs to a 13 year old boy, the bow perch paid for by his father. The kid is quiet, polite, and very sleepy faced. I got them all up country early...

Over there, an older man, whiling away the afternoon weeding his garden. He’s retired, now, and has time on his hands. He thinks he might go fishing this evening...

Think back to one of your last trips to or from your favorite lake. Maybe the boater ahead of you wasn't prepared. Or maybe it was you who slowed down the loading and launching process and others didn't appreciate it...

After sixty seven straight days of fishing you can get tired. I don’t get tired of fishing, just tired. You fish so much you wear the skin off your index finger unhooking walleyes. The boat is still rocking and you have been in bed for twenty minutes. Close your eyes and the bobber is still floating there...

The flag is telling me the wind is out of the west. That’s good for fishing, but bad for me. I like the tougher conditions. If I come home without fish I have one less excuse. Wrong wind I’d say, it threw the bite off, and it’s a classic. I press my cap on tight...

”Take a kid fishing” is now pretty generic terminology for exposing
youngsters to the world of fishing. Just about any child under the age of 12
would probably meet most definitions for being a kid...

In the fishing world there is a company that produces stick baits. Internationally famous so I will skip mentioning their name and mine in the same sentence so as not to cast a dark shadow. They probably do not want my kudos as I killed one of their lures...

Sometime this summer I’m going to get myself a kid and teach worm picking. I want to give something back. Pass on some learning I acquired. Make sure this noble tradition is not forever lost. Just to keep things on the up and up...

Collecting dust on a shelf in the garage was where it eventually landed, a big old bucktail lure I bought years ago in anticipation of the only muskie fishing trip I ever went on. I had forgotten about the bucktail, until the day my rambunctious Labrador discovered it...