Men like Ben East & Gordie Charles worked to build deer herds.

Studying the history and high points of a person's lengthy literary career can be an informing and a somewhat behind-the-scenes look into that person's life.

It has been my great good fortune to obtain a great and wonderful gift from my longtime friend, Gordie Charles, of Traverse City after his death. This gentle and kind man was a rare breed; he gave more than he took from his outdoor life, and I've tried to emulate him.

A few years ago he told his wife, Dorothy, that he wanted me to have his files and papers from over 55 years of outdoor writing in Michigan and South Dakota. Years ago, my late friend Ben East of Holly, Michigan, made the same gracious gift to me after his death. The late Mark Dilts, also an outdoor writer, gave me some things.

Many years ago, my  good friend Russ Bengel of Jackson, honored me with a library of fine books. He knew I loved good fishing and hunting books, and he left me his sizable library. None of these people owed me anything, but knew I loved the history of fishing and hunting in this state.

Russ Bengel was a giant when it came to improve duck habitat.

Each man left behind a treasure trove of Michigan history concerning fishing and hunting in this state. After having sifted through it, and gathered what seemed important from a writer's standpoint, it is my task to make a contribution of the remaining material to the Bentley Historical Library in Ann Arbor in their respective names.

Ben East kept voluminous files, notes and published book manuscripts and newspaper articles. Gordie Charles did much the same. All but three file drawers of East's material has been donated, and much of Gordie's files have been donated to the same research library.

Gordie's files covered the gamut of fishing and hunting, as well as resources management, in this state. Reading through his notes, and his newspaper columns, adds still another dimension to this multi-talented man.

He was well known for his head-slapping puns and corny jokes, but he also was a man deeply in love with the outdoors. In fact, he was so captivated by the beauty of nature that he vowed as a teenager to write a future column for the Traverse City Record-Eagle newspaper.

Ben East and Gordie Charles fought for resource protection.

That he not only did that, and did a wonderfully fine job of it for many years, he also syndicated a newspaper column to 50-some state weekly newspapers, wrote magazine articles and still had time to research and write six books.

How does one measure value? If going through these old files of men like Charles and East, there is nothing of a monetary value to be found. What is valuable, though it is not tangible, is a close-up look at the history both men helped record for the enjoyment and protection of Michigan's natural resources.

I found numerous things in Gordie's files that have been returned to the Charles family such as family photos that had been lost or misplaced. What isn't needed by the family, or by me at the moment, was donated to the Bentley Historical Library.

Some files, from a historical viewpoint, are rather important to me at this time. I have permission from both families to keep these files until my death at which time all of my files (and theirs) may be donated to the same research facility.

There they will join the files of Charles, East, Harold (Opie) Titus, of Traverse City, an editor for Field and Stream magazine; Jack VanCoevering, past outdoor writer for the Detroit Free Press; and Corey Ford, an U of M alumnus and well known outdoor writer and the author of many books.

These files now give me a look at what has gone before. It allows me to determine the thinking of the Department of Conservation, the forerunner of today's Department of Natural Resources & Environment, about topics that affect our resource management and the fish and game we  seek.

It allows me to learn about different fish plantings that were tried but failed, such as the grayling and kokanee salmon. They let me know what the collective thinking of sportsmen were in earlier generations, and let me compare them to what the current thoughts are. I even found the deed and abstract for Ben East's home and property, and promptly returned it to Ben's late wife, Helen, so she could sell the family home. That was an unexpected find.

My passion is historical papers from top conservationists.

It also enables me to determine the effectiveness of biologists from an earlier period against those of today. The differences, in most cases but with some rare exceptions, indicate that earlier fisheries and wildlife biologists were in much closer contact with sportsmen than they are now.

I sifted slowly through Gordie Charles' files for nearly a month with the blessings of his late wife, Dorothy and their children, and some files have gone on to Ann Arbor. Others will go after I've spent more time examining them.

Gordie Charles was, as all outdoor writers should be: a man with an inquisitive mind, a willingness to dig deep for a story, and to put our resources ahead of everything else, especially politics. The stacks of correspondence lauding his work far outweighed the few crank letters sent by people with some imaginary axe to grind.

I see Gordie as a man who was born at the right time to do what had to be done to help protect our resources. I, for one, appreciate his hard work and the unique genius of this man who spent his adult life writing so that others could enjoy and better understand the outdoors.

Going through old files, and studying such history, must make me an historian. Hopefully, it also will make me a better writer ... even after plying my trade for 45 years.

It's when we stop learning that we stop being effective outdoor communicators. I am still learning, thanks to these gifts from other outdoor writers who helped to pave the way of today's outdoor communicators.

Poachers often glass from a car & often shoot pheasants & rabbits for sale.

Bob was sitting pretty. He was making about $1,500 per week, and was able to set his own hours. No time-clock punching for him.

He owned a boat, motor and trailer, and fished or hunted every day. He was a laid-off factory worker, and was entitled to some rather sizable work benefits.

However,  Bob’s life was a little bent. He and his wife were divorced, and she was collecting Aid To Dependent Children (ADC) benefits, welfare and all other benefits available to women whose former spouse no longer made child support payments to the Friend of the Court. He knew his life was a can of worms, but this was a big game he played: it was a case of him against them.

“Them” was any government agency. Bob was fighting a losing battle because of his life style. You see, Bob was a full-time poacher. A hard-core lawbreaker.

Bob poached fish, fur and small game, and sold his swag for tax-free dollars.

He was 28 at the time, father of two children, and poaching was his lifestyle. The tax-free booty was a direct result of selling fish for cash. Bob was a great fisherman, and he easily caught his limit daily. He often caught three or four limits each day.

The large sums of money he made during May and June were from the illegal sale of walleyes caught from the St. Clair River between Port Huron and Algonac. His fish were sold to individuals or restaurants—whoever would pay his price.

His dream life suddenly fell apart. One customer was a Department of Natural Resources special investigator for the Report All Poaching (RAP) unit. After 60 days of intense investigation, the officer had gathered enough evidence against Bob to arrest him and another full-time poacher. Both men pleaded guilty to selling fish and have since served their prison sentences and paid their debts to society.

A conservation officer present at the arrest felt Bob would be lucky if he didn’t lose his boat, motor, trailer and all fishing tackle that was confiscated at the time of his arrest. He agreed to talk with me providing his proper name was not used.

Each man paid court costs, fines and restitution costs, and  it came to many thousands of dollars. The jail time was an added problem, and Bob (not his real name) begged me not to reveal his identity. He agreed to discuss the reasons why his life became a big lie, a matter of cheating the state government, and stealing fish that belong to every state resident. Sadly, his wheels  fell off the track early in life.

“I admit I’ve done wrong and deserve punishment,” he said during the interview. “My major concern is for my ex-wife and children. They will suffer because of my actions, and the family will probably face investigation by the Internal Revenue Service (it did) and some other state agencies because we never paid taxes on my poaching income nor did we report it to the IRS or state welfare agencies.”

Bob’s personality problems began as a youngster. He was a below-average student in high school, and had very few friends. He also suffered from low self-esteem.

“I needed recognition as a teenager and was able to get it by poaching,” he said. “Other kids thought I was crazy to break the law on a daily basis (he also hunted rabbits and squirrels, and took more than his legal limit of game), but for him, it was fun killing animals or catching fish for profit.”

He’d been profit poaching for many years, and had only been caught once before.

He decided, in 1977, to poach full time. He led the easy life for five years. He slept late, collected ADC benefits every two weeks, and food stamps once a month. He was slicking the state government out of a lot of money. For him, life was good.

It was during fishing season that he poached every night. And when hunting season rolled around, he poached rabbits at night using a spotlight and a .22-caliber rifle.

“I sold 150 to 200 rabbits in Detroit over a year, and the going rate was $3 per bunny, in season or out. I sold 40-50 rabbits every time I went to Detroit. There was a great market for cottontails down there.”

He also sold raccoons in Detroit, saying “It wasn’t uncommon to sell 20-30 raccoons every time I went to the city, and they paid up to $4 for skinned carcasses. The pelts were later sold to local fur buyers, and that created another lucrative sideline.”

Coon hunting led to Bob’s first and only ticket before his big bust. He and another man were driving through a field and shining for raccoon eyes in the trees after dark. They were stopped by a CO, and the officer found a loaded .22 rifle on the back seat. The firearm was confiscated, and both men paid a minor fine.

Law enforcement offices cite the too-low  fines as a chief reason poaching continues. Bob agreed, stating: “The fines were so low, and the courts so lenient with first-time offenders, that it didn’t keep poachers like me from repeating these crimes.

Catching and selling St. Clair River walleyes was Bob’s biggest money maker.

“I sold up to 1,500 pounds of illegally taken walleye fillets each year.  The going rate at that time was $3-4 per pound. Walleyes were the money fish, and I could catch 25-30 fish every night during the April-May spawning season. My best night was 37 trophy walleyes, and each fish weighed from five to 10 pounds. It was a lucrative night.”

On a good night Bob could net about $225 of tax-free money from the walleyes he caught. Such nights just fueled his desire to catch and sell even more fish.

The spawning run of big walleyes usually lasts two to three weeks although the smaller males will hang around the spawning areas for another month. It’s likely that Bob made a large amount of money during that period. He made it by catching fish that belong to everyone in the state and selling them for his personal gain.

Bob says he isn’t bitter about being arrested but claims other poachers sold more fish and that the big money was in whitetail deer, which he said he did not poach.

“Poaching is big business,” he said. “Some poachers are making in excess of $50,000 each year while drawing unemployment benefits. Some poachers also are dangerous individuals.

“Some of these people wouldn’t think twice about wasting (killing) a conservation officer or anyone who becomes suspicious of their activities or how they make their money,” he said.

He noted that many poachers regularly carry handguns and are willing to use them. Several Michigan conservation officers have been killed while protecting the state’s fish and game laws since 1926.

Although Bob claims otherwise, it’s obvious he felt poaching was a high-stakes game. He knew he could get away with his crimes for a period of time but sooner or later the odds would tip in the favor of state law enforcement.

Cracking down on profit poachers is a high-stakes job for the DNR.

“I knew sooner or later I’d get busted, and I’m convinced someone in my family turned me in,” he said. “If it were just me it wouldn’t matter as much, but the DNR knows of my outlets and other local poachers in the business. It doesn’t look good for me.”

It’s unknown whether a family member tipped off the authorities about Bob’s poaching activities or not. Family members often turn in someone else from the family, and often some of their best tips come from a disgruntled ex-wife. Tips are kept anonymous, and in some cases, a reward is possible for valuable information.

After a great deal of soul-searching, Bob said he has decided that his career as a poacher is over. He quickly learned that this was a dead-end street for him.

“I’ll go to jail,” he whispered sadly. “They just have too much evidence on me, but when all of this is over and done with, my poaching career will be a thing of the past. I deeply regret the animals I’ve killed, and the fish I caught for the market. They’ll probably haunt me the rest of my life.”

Maybe so, but one conservation officer isn’t too sure about that.

“Bob will be back,” he said. “It’s hard not to be skeptical of such people and their comments. If he poaches again, we’ll catch him again, and the penalties will be much stiffer the next time around. Hardcore  poachers are tough to put out of business unless the public cares enough to turn them in.”

Bob was trapped by his own greed. He has paid dearly for his many years of profit poaching, and claims he no longer poaches. It would be nice to believe him but, sad to say, DNR statistics indicate he will probably return to the poaching life.

Dave Richey with big Alaskan moose.

The truest form of respect  we can give to the animals and birds that sportsmen hunt is to make a clean, killing shot, whether with a bow, muzzleloader, pistol, rifle or shotgun.

The thing that many anti-hunters are against are wounded animals. I have people contact me, and some say they are ill-prepared for the shot. A bad hit is the result of jittery nerves, buck fever and/or an inability to shoot straight when an opportunity presents itself.

People who regularly hunt make killing shots. Most of them hunt with a bow, even during firearm seasons, but others also hunt with a muzzleloader or center-fire rifle. When they aim at a deer, and pull the trigger, the animal goes down and dies instantly.

True hunters help keep excess deer in line with livingng space and food supply.

There is no long, lingering chases to finish off the animal. There is no long hours spent blood-trailing a deer for miles. There are no cases of someone taking a hasty shot, and making a bad hit.

These hunters have one thing in common: they can shoot straight, and they don't miss. One man has shot eleven bucks, and he takes only one each year. Five were taken with a bow and none ran over 75 yards, and four died when the arrow sliced through both lungs.

The other two deer were taken with a flat-shooting rifle with a 140-grain pointed soft point. Both deer were hit low behind the front shoulder, and both deer died instantly where they stood.

Another man shot a big 10-point last fall after he had hunted the animal into December. The buck made a mistake, walked past the hunter, and one arrow killed the buck. It went just 50 yards and tipped over.

What do these men have that other sportsmen don't have? They have the patience to wait for a clear shot, and the ability to put an arrow or bullet in that spot.

They know they have more time to shoot, and are in no hurry to do so.

They practice shooting all year. The centerfire rifle usually doesn't come out of the gun safe until just a week before the Nov. 15 firearm opener. They may shoot the rifle a dozen times in one day before the season opener, and they are familiar with their bow or firearm. They know that when the rifle's cross-hairs center the heart-lung area that the deer is dead but doesn't know it just yet.

An old hunting question has been around for more years than I can remember, and it goes like this: People don't ask, can you? They ask, did you?

A big black bear from Ontario.

Good hunters know that when they put the bow sight behind the front shoulder of a buck, that animal will go down. They shoot regularly, never exceed their shooting abilities by taking long bow shots, and they know how and when to draw and shoot. The deer they shoot are unaware of danger because these hunters play the wind every day.

These men and women are not casual hunters. They work hard to learn as much about deer as possible. They know how and where deer travel, and soon learn when the animals will come near their stand.

They never take hurried shots, and never take a low-percentage shot. They know that tomorrow may offer a better opportunity, and are willing to wait until all conditions are in their favor. They never make a mistake when shooting game, and they respect those animals they hunt.

I once shot a 6X5 elk in New Mexico at 350 yards. Elk are very big critters, and when my Swarovski scope's crosshairs settled low behind the bull's front shoulder just as he finished bugling and he'd emptied his lung, the trigger was squeezed and the bull died instantly.

Another time I shot a very nice mule deer across a side canyon along the north rim of Arizona's Grand Canyon with a 7mm Magnum at 450 yards. One shot, and down he went. My guide said he'd never seen such a shot. There was nothing for me to say because I'm accustomed to long shots, know my firearm and know what it can do

Practice in aiming, handling and shooting a rifle is the key to making good shots.

Hunters must practice, and I don't pretend to specialize in long shotsm but I only shoot when I know from past experience that I can make that shot. Some of it isa result of  practice, and most of it is knowing that the shot can be made. Both of these shots, no brag, were instant kills.

Hunters who can do this on a regular basis have no need to brag about their prowess, never make the deer appear dumb or stupid, and they never show the animal any disrespect. Many have learned over time that hunting means more than just killing, and also know that the meat from these animals will grace their table all year 'round.

They know that hunting is something more, much more, than killing a small deer with tiny antlers. They are willing to pass up young bucks, knowing that two or three years on a buck will allow them to take a trophy buck of their dreams.

More so, they are hunters, 365 days per year, and that is why many are so deadly in the autumn woods. They have the patience, skill and practice to do everything right. They don't have to think about it but just react to the situation.

Thinking too hard on anything can make it more difficult than it should be. And that, my friends, is a direct quote.

This big male steelhead is an admirable opponent onf a fly rod. 

Fighting and landing big fish is an acquired talent, and becoming skilled at doing so means doing it many times. Two schools of thought exist: go with light line and play the fish to total exhaustion over a long period of time or fight the fish hard and fast, and release it alive and capable of recovering when released.

What follows can apply to any game fish caught from the Great Lakes, inland lakes or streams. Anglers have two basic options: the soft touch, long fight and a dead fish or the alternative, a quicker and harder scrap that doesn’t sap all of a fish’s strength.

My preference is the hard-and-fast rule. Fighting a fish to a quick finish is like fighting a man: a stiff punch in the nose can settle a fight quickly between two humans. Fighting a big fish is somewhat the same: hitting them hard and fast can break their spirit and result in a faster end to the tussle between man and fish.  

 

Carry a strong fight to the fish, and break their spirit fast.

Yeah, I know, many people want a big-fish battle to last a long time. They feel the longer the battle continues, the more excitement they get out of it.

All of this is true, up to a certain point. Some people agree wholeheartedly with my fight-'em-hard philosophy and just as many probably disagree. That's fine, but since this is my article I'll argue the fine points of why beating up on a game fish is best -- if that fish is to be released alive!

The light-line, the short limber rod or long noodle rod angling methods are wildly popular. Many such anglers practice catch-and-release. Noodle rods and light line were (and still are) very popular, and there is no arguing that this method does produce an exciting fight and perhaps more hooked fish.

I proudly own three noodle rods and treasure them highly after their many years of trouble-free use, but some light-line fans differ with me on several points. 

 

Knowing when to upset a fish produces a quick end to a fight.

The old light-line, noodle-rod gang often fought big steelhead and salmon to a standstill on two- and four-pound line and set numerous line-class records. Some of those anglers also released a great number of fish.

The problem was that those river-fishing anglers would tie up a river hole for long periods of time as they wrestled with big fish on truly light line. The extended battles didn’t set well with nearby anglers. The light-liners kept others from fishing that hole during the duration of their epic struggles.

If fish are to be kept, I have no problem with this angling philosophy and encourage it as long as it doesn't interfere with the rights of other fishermen. However, if a person plans to release a 15-pound steelhead or a 20-pound king salmon after a long fight on light line, many of those fish will soon die because of lactic acid buildup in their muscle tissue. Once lactic acid builds to a certain critical level, and this varies from one fish to the next, death is almost always just a matter of time. 

 

Beat ‘Em Up

My method may seem a bit harsh and perhaps a bit heavy-handed but the majority of my salmon and trout are returned to fight again or to  spawn. This is not an advocacy column for catch-and-release: it's merely my opinion, and differences are encouraged as long as they are kept on an open-minded and rational basis.

Once my fish are hooked, the fight is immediately carried to the salmon or steelhead. I never allow a fish to sulk on bottom in a deep hole. That fish is always kept in continuous, never-ending motion.

 If it swims to the left, I pull it to the right. If it goes right, I pull to the left. If the fish jumps, my practice is to pull it off balance. If it tries to go upstream, it is pulled back downstream to the limits of the line being used. The fish is never given a chance to rest.

For every action, with my fish-fighting method, there is an equal and occasionally more severe opposing reaction. I don’t brutally manhandle a fish, but I work it hard and keep it off-balance.

 

My fish-fighting skills were acquired early in life.

I remember steelhead fishing back in the mid-1950s at the old More Trout Incorporated dam on Michigan’s  East Branch of the AuGres River. A guy hooked a steelhead with 10-15 other people nearby, and he allowed the hooked fish to sulk without moving. If he pulled back on the rod tip, the fish would pull in the opposite direction, and nothing else would happen. The fish was resting.

Me, being a loud-mouth kid, yelled "Make that fish fight. You'll be here all day and all night fighting it like that."

The kid apparently felt he was tying up the hole for everyone else (which he was), and he started to carry some muscle into this fight with the fish. It responded in similar fashion, and five minutes later the fish was landed, amid wild applause from nearby anglers. Break the spirit of a fish or a man, and the battle is quickly won.

It’s the breaking of a fish’s will that enables a fish-fight to be settled in more rapid fashion. Fish are not accustomed to being pulled off balance, and that is just one trick. Getting below the fish, and making it fight both the rod and the river current, is another fish-fighting tactic that can pay big dividends.

It’s my personal belief to not keep fish, and that is particularly true with spring-spawning steelhead or fall-spawning salmon. I’ve had many situations where I’ve fought a 10 to 15-pound spring steelhead, and landed and released it in two  or three minutes. I’ve landed numerous 20-pound or heavier river salmon in five minutes or less. It can only happen when you beat up on them and quickly break their spirit.

 

Skamania (summer-run) steelhead die easily under pressure.

I once hooked a summer-run Skamania steelhead below the old Homestead Dam on Michigan’s Betsie River. The fight didn't last 30 seconds. Mind you, the water temperature was in the high 70s, and the date was July 4, and the warm-water conditions and 30 seconds of fighting killed that steelhead.

That, I can assure you, is not common except for Skamania steelhead because they are a wild but short-lived fighter. Often, the first few wild jumps in warm water will kill the fish.

Is it more dignified to fight a fish for a long time on light line or to make short work of it before releasing the fish to fight again? All I know is that my method works, and has been used for many years. It is, however, an acquired talent that requires practice and some lost fish.

It can work well on big salmon or steelhead in the Great Lakes, but know this: if a fish is hooked in deep water, and is fought rapidly to the surface, that fish will probably die whether properly released or not. The rapid ascent through the water column can weaken the fish in many different ways, and often, such fish are incapable of going back down and are eaten alive by sea gulls. Perch caught in deep water often are landed with their air bladders out of their mouth. They cannot be returned and no longer are capable of surviving.

 

Know how and when to apply pressure.

My method relies on knowing precisely when to upset the fish's balance, when to tip if over during a jump, and when to give line to keep from breaking the fish off. Occasionally I'll lose a fish, but I'd rather lose one a minute into the scrap than after 15 minutes of a back-and-forth tug of war. Give me one jump, and I'm satisfied because I don't need to kill a fish just to prove something to myself or someone else.

A few people have accused me of not showing due respect to the fish, and that is too bad. I believe that a released fish should still have some spunk left rather than being listless and rolling upside down in the current as it tumbles downstream to a certain death. I also believe in holding a fish upright and facing into the current until it can swim away under its own power.

Which method is best suited for you? Whichever one you choose is fine by me. I happen to be a great believer in the freedom of speech. I will gladly respect your right to dissent as long as you extend an equal respect for me to voice my opinion.

Bottom line: what works for you is fine and what works for me is fine. The whole thing is about angler pleasure, respect for the fish and the environment in which it is found, and any returned fish shouldn't be so whipped that it can not survive.

Be deliberate. This buck is quartering away. Take your time & shoot straight.

There was a time when the firearm deer season was terribly important to me, and although that still holds true to some degree, it turns out that I spend more time hunting with a bow during the Nov. 15-30 season that I do with a firearm.

The same holds true for the upcoming muzzle-loader season. I'll hunt a day or two with the frontloader, clean it out in good shape, and pick up the bow again. There's no two ways about it: I'd rather hunt with a bow than a firearm, and that is that.

What attracts me to this bow hunting gig? Many things, including:

December bpw hunting can be cold and snowy but often produces larger bucks.

I like my deer up close and personal. Preferably inside of 20 yards, and 15 yards is absolutely ideal. There is no room for mistakes when deer get that close, and it becomes much tougher shooting a deer with a bow once snow covers the ground.

I find it fascinating to watch deer at close range. Even I can see their long eye lashes and facial hair. Reading a deer's body language, and knowing what they are going to do, really lights my fire.

Once the weather turns cold, and snow begins to fall, deer hunting takes on a completely different aspect for me. The deer seem more concentrated, and there is the opportunity to obtain close-up looks at deer that may not be possible during other seasons.

Bow hunting means an accurately tuned bow, and experience drawing a bow with more clothing on. I normally reduce by draw weight by five pounds, and much prefer not having to struggle to come to full draw.

Cold weather stiffens muscles, and the added burden of too many clothes makes it all that more difficult to draw and shoot accurately without putting extra effort into pulling the bow. That extra effort is what often is noticed by deer.

I like the snow for trailing a wounded deer. I always use a Game Tracker string tracking device, but the snow always helps locate blood along a deer trail. The two -- snow and Game Tracker -- are an unbeatable combination for late-season bow hunters.

Using a Game Tracker, even on snow, increases the chances of recovering a deer.

There is no getting around it. Snow enables hunters to quickly spot an incoming animal. The foliage of October is gone, and when deer move, they are quickly seen. Spotting deer early in their approach allows hunters to get ready well in advance of a shot.

It goes without saying that pinpoint accuracy is required. Even though snow does help when blood trailing, there is no reason to take anything less than a perfect shot. High-percentage broadside or quartering-away shots are still required, and remember to pick the best shot and accept nothing less.

Winter bow hunting means being motionless and quiet. Watch the deer, and move only when the animal is preoccupied with something else. Demand nothing but the highest degree of skill from yourself, and always strive for a clean killing shot.

You know, I haven't shot a deer yet this year. It doesn't bother me because my idea of taking a deer means taking something that pleases me. I have no need to shoot a small buck, and would rather shoot a doe fawn than a small antlered buck.

I've passed up a few bucks, but not many, this year that were within my preferred range of 15 yards. There were a couple of basket-rack 8-points, and one nine-point, and some smaller bucks. None suited me for a variety of personal reasons, and I didn't shoot.

Watching deer up close is part of why I love the December bow season.

This sort of thing has happened before, and the season may pass without me taking a shot. I don't find that troubling at all. I hunt to satisfy myself, and a kill isn't what satisfies me. I hunt to be out there in fair and foul weather, and if or when the right opportunity presents itself with a desirable buck, I'll shoot.

Until then, I keep hunting. You see, there is no pressure on me to shoot a deer. There have been a large number of deer taken over 55+ years, and one more isn't important unless it satisfies an inner need that even I can't describe but I'll know it when I see it.

A big buck like this one quickly gets the attention of poachers.

It was something of an insult. I'm sure the reader didn't mean it the way it sounded, but it came across as a personal insult.

A reader told me that I have an oldfashioned sense of protecting our fish and game and other natural resources from poachers. He chided me for being so concerned about the welfare of our poached birds, fish, fur and game.

He said I should let the DNRE worry about it. They are trained to do the job, and if they can't catch the poachers, too bad. I wondered whether he had ever picked up the phone and dialed the RAP Hotline phone number (800-292-7800) to report a poaching incident in progress.

Get involved and don’t be apathetic about poaching.

I'm sorry but I don't feel the same way he does. Poachers are basically opportunistic people, and break the law whenever they think they can get away with it. That line of thinking is dead wrong.

Years ago I did a newspaper story about a joker who was proud of being arrested more times than anyone else in the state for fish and game law violations. He boasted that he'd been arrested on one or more charges more than 50 times. When I had those numbers checked, it was well over 60 violation. He’d forgotten some of them.

The guy is a bit younger than me, and I once figured up that he'd spent several years in the hoosegow. Man, everyone wants to be popular and known for something in their life, but being the state's most famous poacher? That’s hardly something to brad about.

One rule to keep in mind: It’s nice to be important but it’s more important to be nice. Poachers aren’t nice people.

Is poaching something to be proud of? I think not. One might think he has fish eggs for brains after having speared as many steelhead as he did during a long and largely unproductive poaching career.

A few weeks ago I wrote about anglers and hunters who really don’t care about the fish and game. It's becoming even more prevalent by the day. Apathy is alive and well in the sense that poachers are seldom apprehended even though their family and neighbors know they are potting deer out of season. No one wants to speak up.

Does this make a poacher feel proud? It apparently must, because for them, outwitting the conservation officer is a big game they love to play. If they get caught, they pay their fine, and go right back to breaking fish and game laws again but try to be more careful.

Apathy is running rampant as people shake their head and mutter: "Old Uncle Pete got himself another deer last night about midnight. Oh well, Pete’s a bit of an odd one! If he gets caught, he’ll be stacking time at the county jail."

It makes one wonder why they don't turn Uncle Pete in. Ten or more days in the pokey might wake him up, but even that is doubtful. For most poachers, it is a game of beating the local game warden at their own game. Trespass is a major problem throughout the state, and most poachers trespass on a regular basis to do their dirty deeds.

Teach students in school that poaching is wrong and let kids rat out the old man.

Some poachers are ingenious in their willingness to test the game warden's skills. They go out of their way to concoct ways to mislead the officer so they can operate with impunity elsewhere.

Sooner or later, their worst nightmare comes true. The conservation officer steps out from behind a tree, and catches them red-handed with a freshly killed deer that was taken out of season or after dark.

Those who catch and keep more than their limit of fish are just as guilty as deer poachers. So too for those who put out 10 tip-ups during the winter, and when caught, shrug their shoulders, pay their fine and do something else that breaks our fish and game laws.

People dither, complain a bit, and soon everything blows over and they go back to the meat market in the woods. Family members, who could call and ask to remain anonymous, sit on their hands and wonder why nothing ever gets done. The answer is they are afraid to take that first step by making a phone call to the authorities.

Sad but true, there seems to be little improvement in the number of people arrested for breaking our fish and wildlife laws. Conservation officers are spread too  thin, and in some counties, there is only one fish cop to cover too much ground. If he is patrolling the north end of the county, and things are happening at the south end, the chance of the violators being caught are very small.

Our sense of protecting our fish and game tells me that this is a matter of education. We must start with the school children, and teach them that what Uncle Pete does to make his weekly beer money is a crime against everyone else in the state.

Children must learn that shooting game out of season, setting a web (small gill net) across a spawning stream, jacklighting a deer at night, and all the other things that poachers do, is wrong.

In days of old, when knights were bold, poaching of the King's fish and deer in England, was a risky proposition that some poachers gladly accepted.

In some parts of Africa today, poachers are summarily dealt with. The law officers who try to protect the elephants and rhinos are both judge and jury, and the sentence is delivered immediately. A hail of bullets and a sudden death is what happens to many African poachers. Most don't have the guts to do that again.

Poachers are summarily dealt with in parts of Africa. Game wardens are judge, jury & executioner in some countries.

A snide and very impersonal remark? I don't think so. Poaching is big business, and educating long-time fish and game thieves is a battle we seldom win. Caught, they are fined and may possibly serve a short jail sentence, and then they return to poaching again.

Where is the justice in that? There isn't any.

Of course, in this country, using Africa's short and swift punishment would be considered cruel and unusual punishment. Poachers think little of our rights, but we must consider theirs when they are caught breaking the law. A flaw exists in this argument.

Shooting poachers may be too harsh, but locking them up for a longer period of time and handing out much stiffer fines and restitution fees might make a difference.

It's my thought that we must deal with this problem in a different way, and teaching our children that poaching is wrong, is just the first step. If the kids start ragging on the old man whenever he takes game out of season, perhaps knowing that the kids are watching would do the trick.

It's certainly a good place to start.

Anyone who wants to help stop poaching can follow these tips:

*Don’t try to be a hero. Never try to stop a poacher.

*Instead, note the make, model and color to the car or truck being used. A license plate letters and numbers are very important.

*Note the number of people in the the vehicle and the direction it is traveling. Give them the time of the poaching incident.

*If possible, write down physical descriptions of all poachers, including approximate height and weight, color of hair, approximate age, any distinguishing marks such as scars or tattoos, how the person is dressed, and who, if possible did the shooting.

*Making positive identification at night is very difficult, but if the individual is identifiable, give this information to a DNR officer. Get involved, and a tip can lead to an arrest. Most such anti-poaching lines allow callers to remain anonymous.

*Call the Michigan DNR Report All Poaching hotline phone number at (800) 292-7800 and offer them this information.

A small doe trails behind a decent buck in the fog.

A buddy of mine was hunting one of my stands tonight, and it is surrounded on three sides by a watery alder thicket and the fourth side by an open field that runs through the rolling hills.

He wanted a nice fat doe for the freezer and could care less about arrowing a buck. I put him in an elevated coop, told him to sit still and wait for a broadside shot at a doe.

Arrowing a buck? OK, so what that it’s only the second day of the firearm deer season. There are many hunters, myself included, who occasionally choose to wear camo gear and a Hunter Orange hat, and take to the woods with stick and string while everyone else hunts with a firearm.

Many bow hunters like the added challenge of competing against firearms.

Over many years, I've hunted the entire firearm season with a bow. There's something about the added challenge of competing against 750,000 firearm hunter with more primitive gear.

He started seeing deer shortly after he climbed up tino the stand. A doe and button buck came early but the little buck was always between him and the doe. They fed off into the alders, and then an 8-point with gleaming white antlers showed up. Another doe and fawn tried to come in to feed but the buck ran them off before he could get a shot.

Finally that buck left, and a small buck wandered in, and then they left . The big buck wouldn't allow any other deer around it, and then there wasn't a deer in sight.

This is how deer hunting often goes in northern farmland areas, It's possible to sit for several days and not see a but, and then all of a sudden, a small buck of deer will pass through, The hunter must be vigilant at all times.

It was a common thing in northern farmland areas. Many deer travel together.

"I'm sitting there with perhaps 15 minutes of legal shooting time left and two big does walked in and kept right on going," he told me. "I was just getting ready to put my bow away when I spotted a fawn and a nice doe approaching. The fawn was almost the size of her mother, and I decided to shoot the doe fawn and allow the doe to live another year."

He watched the mother and fawn walk up and stand 10 yards out from his elevated coop, and the fawn stood eight or 10 feet behind the big doe. He came to full draw on the fawn, and when the red-dot settled in behind her front shoulder, he touched the trigger release.

"Just as I stroked the trigger," he said," I saw the doe's nose appear. The arrow hit, and although I was aiming at the fawn, I couldn't tell for certain which deer I hit.

"The orange Game Tracker line went out, sputtered once and stopped. It stuttered again, and several more feet went out, and then the line stopped moving entirely."

He waited until he could get some help and stronger lights, and me and four other guys with lights followed the Game Tracker string for about 100 yards. He found the top portion of his arrow shaft, and we continued following the string and blood.

Tracking the string almost to the deer.

The deer was on a runway and stuck with it, and suddenly the line veered off to the right. We continued following the string but now there was no blood. Fifteen yards later we came to the frayed end of the tracking line, spread out and couldn't find any blood.

We backtracked to where the tracking line took the sudden swerve, found more blood and found the deer within 20 yards.

"A Game Tracker string has saved many deer for me and other hunters," he said. "When we couldn't find blood beyond the end of the string, it was decided to look for blood where the deer swerved. I suspect another deer got tangled in the string and took it out.

That deer, and thousands of other deer, have been successfully found by using the Game Tracker device. It is a wonderful tool for bow hunters, and although my friend's arrow double-lunged the animal, it still went a fair distance before falling.

Everyone who hunts should use this string tracking device when hunting thick cover. We've used it since it was invented some three decades ago, and we still use it for one very specific reason: it helps us recover wounded deer.

A boast sometimes rankles other people, especially when two or more anglers are on a trip together. Almost always, one of the people is big on himself and wants everyone to know it.

Most people could care less what people have done. The trick is to be courteous and helpful, and if asked, answer the question as well as possible without bragging yourself up.

For instance, I know how many deer I've taken over 55 years. It's really too many, and I seldom bring up the topic. I've been fortunate to have deer hunted in many states beside my native Michigan but choose not to constantly dwell on myself and belabor my deeds.

On the other hand, I dislike being in a group that is being monopolized by an ego-freak who is determined to quote numbers, sizes, the width of a rack which invariably is larger than anyone else has ever seen or taken. After a short time, the egotist discovers he no longer is preaching to the choir. They've left.

I'm proud of this big Alaska moose but don't brag about it.

I mentor younger outdoor writers. All are making or have made many of the mistakes I made when I started, but in my case, there was no one to teach me the difference. I struggled, made more mistakes, and trust me -- when I tell people how to avoid making these mistakes, there is not a word of a brag to it. I tell them about my mistakes and how long it took me to correct many such errors. They learn fast.

A friend stopped by yesterday, and he hopes to draw a turkey tag next spring. He wanted some calling advice, and I told him I am not a good turkey caller. I also told him that many, many hunters can call ten times better than me, but I can call turkeys. No brag involved when I downplay my miniscule calling skills, but others can associate with my lack of such because they have their own foibles. Some of these beginners are far better callers than me.

I showed him a couple of tricks I've learned, told him how I do it, and repeated what he'd been told before. Don't call too much, don't call too loud, don't move and be patient.

Mentoring or helping people is better than bragging.

Years ago, I gave my twin brother a five-minute lesson on turkey calling. I took my gent out, and the bird I tried to call came in behind us, stood there drumming and spitting, and we couldn't get a shot. My brother was hunting a mile away, and we drove over just in time to watch him call in and kill a gobbler with just five minutes of instruction.

He got a well deserved pat on the back. My gent was disappointed for a bit, but he shot his gobbler that afternoon.

The lesson to all of this is that bragging long and hard on oneself is boring to others. If I'm asked, I'll answer a question and quickly turn the conversation back toward them.

Beginning anglers and hunters need to boast a bit over their successes, and it's OK. But if you've shot 100 bucks with a bow, it means that you've hunted far more than most people. It also means, if you dwell on that number without teaching, those people often think you are lying, boring or a game hog.

None of which may be true. I'm a good deer hunter and a good steelhead fisherman, and have spent 55 years at both endeavors. Unless a person is blind or stupid, it stands to reason that they have learned something along the way. Share the knowledge with others but spare the bragging.

Forty years ago I drove to New Brunswick to fish Atlantic salmon with a guide. I sought his advice on which salmon flies to buy, and he pointed them out. I sought his advice on which fly to start with, and he picked one out for me.

The author with a nice 8-point.

Two hours into fishing, my guide said softly: "Begging your pardon, sir, but I suspect you've washed that fly long enough.  I'd suggest a change to a brighter colored pattern."

He didn't have to dwell on the fact that I should have changed flies earlier. He offered a suggesion that I gladly accepted, and when I hooked a 10-pound salmon on a brightly colored fly, he didn't claim any credit for it. I'd been the one to choose the fly, and luckily, it produced a fish.

He could have bragged about his knowledge and skills, but instead, offered me a pat on the back for "choosing" the right fly. I had no clue what I was doing, and it was his suggestion that made that cast a success.

Even today, I enjoy giving credit to him for me catching my first Atlantic salmon. He poled the boat into position, told me where to cast, how long a cast to make, and all I did was manage to land the high-jumping fish once it hooked itself on the strike.

Stow the bragging, and if possible, share your knowledge with another person without trying to make yourself look important. I labor in a business where there are more egotists than I ever believed possible, but I check my ego at the door when I leave home. It works for me.

Guy Bradley. The name is hardly a house-hold word, and for 99.9 percent of the sportsmen across the United States, he is an unknown man. And that is really too bad.

Mr. Bradley was the first wildlife law enforcement officer who was killed in 1905 in the line of duty as he worked to protect the nation's wildlife. Conservation officers, who are spread thinly in almost all areas of the country, are the main line of defense against poaching of our nation's fish, fur and game animals and birds.They are afield during all types of weather conditions, at all hours of the day and night, and often are alone, understaffed and overworked.

"This award is given yearly by the National Fish & Wildlife Foundation, which is located in Portland, Oregon," said Krystyna Wolnilakowski, NFWF's spokesperson. "Each year people may nominate someone from a state or federal agency  to receive this prestigious award. The award is given to only one state Conservation Officer and one Federal officer each year.

Leelanau County Conservation Officer Mike Borkovich receives a National award.

"The 2010 award was chosen from a large number of state officers from all 50 states," Wolniakowski said. "This year the award goes To Sgt. Mike Borkovich, Michigan Conservation Officer for Leelanau County. Sgt. Borkovich exemplifies everything that the Guy Bradley Award stands for: outstanding leadership, extended excellence, and a lifetime commitment to the field of wildlife law enforcement and whose actions advance the cause of wildlife conservation."

Being chosen for this award means Borkovich will receive a commemorative plaque and a check for $1,000. State employees cannot accept cash awards of any kind, but the money can be presented to any organization chosen by the recipient.

"For a guy who is seldom at a loss for words, this time I'm speechless," Borkovich said. "Receiving the Guy Bradley Award for doing my job as the Department of Natural Resources' Law Enforcement Division as I believe it should be done is a dream come true. Not once did I ever believe I'd be the only state conservation officer to be chosen for this annual award. It is most certainly appreciated, and this is a work-related honor I'll cherish forever."

Officer is overwhelmed by being chosen for this prestigious award.

Borkovich is the epitome of what all conservation officers should emulate. He and other conservation officers are the best, and in many cases, the only connection the public has with the state DNR. These officers know the laws, and enforce them with a passion, but they don't write tickets just for something to do. Officers stand up every day for the firm protection of all fish and wildlife conservation laws.

Larry Johnson, Chief Park Ranger for the Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore at Empire, Michigan, nominated Borkovich for this honor. He says this officer is known by his colleagues as "36/24" for squeezing 36 hours of results out of each 24-hour day.

"Mike works so many nights on patrol that his wife sometimes feels she's married to a vampire," Johnson said." He works with an intensity and dedication that helps to inspire those he meets, including some poachers he catches. He is a one-man public relations spokesman for the DNR and the many user groups within his working area. He educates the public whenever he comes in contact with them, and informs them in a nice way why these laws are in place and why it's his job to enforce them. Often, he does it with a smile on his face.

"He teaches them about the many "whys" of conservation, and the amazing thing is he teaches without preaching to people. He leads without being condescending in any way. It's this rare talent that has set him apart from other excellent conservation officers."

A local newspaper column showed both side of Borkovich's job.

Johnson, when nominating him, enclosed a Nov. 30, 2008 copy of a newspaper article I wrote for the Traverse City Record Eagle in Traverse City, Michigan. The story was titled "Faces Of A Conservation Officer," and the topic was how Mike Borkovich operates as a conservation officer. One side shows how he expects strict adherence to Michigan's wildlife laws, and in the story he let a person off without a ticket when he shot an antlerless deer because the man called and told him he'd made a mistake. The doe was confiscated the next day, and I was with the officer when he presented it to a stroke-stricken man who needed winter meat.

"That act shows both sides of Borkovich's character. He does have another side, one that he tells people: "I will treat you as fairly as possible but don't lie to me." If he asks questions, and someone does lie, they usually are ticketed. Two weeks ago, while on a snowmobile check with him, he allowed a couple of snowmobilers to go to town and  buy their Trail Permit. He doesn't like to give tickets, and they are a last-choice situation for him. He'd rather talk to people, explain the law, and be friendly. Of course, at six-feet, five inches, he commands respect and can take enforcement to another level if necessary."

The Guy Bradley Award is  one granted to officers who carry on the proud tradition of a state Conservation Officer, and Mike Borkovich epitomizes everything this prestigious award stands for, and his presence in this area is beneficial to the entire state.