Outdoor Writer

BLM Black Labs Matter

new photos coming

Way to get it done. 👍

I believe I said that in my post. 🙄 "And...the increased nitrogen preserves freshness, protects the nutrients, and prevents aerobic microbial growth."

I was going through some old articles yesterday and found a couple that you folks might enjoy. THE LAST SHOT was the monthly column I did for AZ HUNTER & ANGLER for several years. This one is from waaaaaaaaaaaaaay back, and I bet some of you can add to it. THE LAST SHOT COPYRIGHT BY TONY MANDILE MURPHY WAS AN OUTDOORSMAN Three decades of roaming the great outdoors in search of fish and game has taught me a lot. I have become familiar with many of Arizona's good hunting and fishing spots. By learning from my mistakes, I have honed my techniques so my successes have occurred regularly. On the other hand, some of my experiences have convinced me Murphy's "anything that can possibly go wrong will go wrong" neatly applies to hunting and fishing. In fact, I have no doubt Murphy was, indeed, an outdoorsman! So, with an air of lightness and humor, I'll relate some of the "Murphyisms" I have gathered over the past 30 years. Some have been my actual experiences, but I refuse to say which ones. (SMILE) First, let's take a look at what I lovingly refer to as the "famous last words list." Most of these were uttered by my hunting and fishing partners, of course. "We won't need that much food. We'll eat some of the fish we catch." "I don't need a compass. I've never been lost in my life." "In 4-wheel drive, my truck can go anywhere." "Don't worry about climbing over it. That barbed-wire fence might look a little shaky, but the staples will hold." "My rifle still should be sighted in from last year." "Yea, I've eaten that kind of wild mushroom before. They're harmless." "We'll take my truck. I just had everything checked out on it." "I'll lend you one of my air mattresses that doesn't leak." "Nah, leave your raingear in camp. The weatherman said it won't rain this weekend." "We'll cook the roast in a pit while we're hunting. When we get back to camp, dinner will be ready." "I never forget the salt and pepper (substitute toilet paper, lantern fuel, forks or any other necessary item)." "Hey, I've had a trainer work with that dog for months. He'll stand rock-solid until you bust out the birds." "Oh yea, it's the gentlest horse in the string. We usually let the kids ride it." "We can leave the food out. I've never seen bears around here." "Heck yes, it's easy; we catch a limit of trout every time." "I sure can't understand how anyone can miss an elk." "Yes, I'm positive I put the plug in the boat." "No, these boots won't leak. They have a lifetime guarantee." Now, here are some probable "Murphyisms" you might encounter if you spend enough time in the outdoors. Wading to a good fishing spot often results in the water being at least an inch higher than your boots or waders. The one time in 15 years a game warden stops at your camp and asks to see your license, you discover it's in your wallet. Unfortunately, the wallet is still on your dresser at home. The rod-tip you step on and break will be attached to your newest, high-priced graphite rod, which you bought on a close-out sale at half-price. If a fish throws a lure as you are getting ready to net it, it never will be a small one. After you've hunted for four days without seeing a buck, a trophy will run across the road just as you leave camp and head for home. Naturally, the sun had set an hour earlier. You travel to a place where the fishing has been outstanding. While you are there, a new Guiness record will be set for the longest period without anyone on the lake getting a bite. While you're out hunting, a heavy rain moves in and you soon discover on your return to camp that the tent leaked. Invariably the one little leak soaked your sleeping bag. The only time anyone ever asks whether you got your deer is when you haven't. If you take your wife fishing, she always will outfish you, regardless of how skilled she is. You bring a new bird-dog pup home and quickly find he likes chewing things. His first chew toy was a new pair of $250 Tony Lama boots. A covey of quail will rise anytime you have your shotgun unloaded to cross a fence line. When you start catching fish on a specific lure, you will snag and lose it. Worst yet, it was the only one in your tackle box. The dealer who sold you the outboard motor stocks over 8,000 parts for it. The one you need, however, is currently out of stock and will take 6 weeks for delivery. This only happens when you're leaving for the lake the next day. The shortcut you take to get back to camp always ends at a steep cliff or impenetrable maze of catclaw. You finally get to camp and discover that your buddies, thinking you would spend the night afield, ate your share of dinner. A good hatch will occur as soon as you climb out of your waders, break down your flyrod and head for the car. If you can't drink your coffee without sugar, you can bet the guy responsible for getting the groceries forgot it. You will drop your tackle box only when you haven't latched the lid tightly. When you take pictures of the biggest fish or the best buck you have ever taken, the photo processor will lose the film. You buy a new baitcasting reel and practice with it for weeks. Then your first cast in front of your guide results in a hopeless bird's nest. As the guide cuts it out with his knife, you notice he isn't smiling. Teach a beginner how to tie a fool-proof knot, and the next fish you hook will untie yours. The novice, no doubt pretending he didn't see it happen, will turn his back. Whoever is cooking breakfast will turn out perfect eggs until it's your turn to eat. Although you ordered sunny-side-up, you will eat scrambled eggs or nothing; all of the eggs are gone. Your outboard motor runs great for the entire 20 miles to the far end of Roosevelt Lake. This is not the case on the return trip, however. You never fall on your rifle scope and knock it out of whack five minutes AFTER you have an opportunity at a good trophy. If you are walking back to camp along a road and someone stops to offer a ride, the vehicle will break down. By the time you get back to camp, you are tired, hungry and look like a backyard mechanic. Without fail, no one remembered to bring soap. You're probably nodding your head and saying, "Boy I remember the time....." Well, here's a little story that might have some significance if you fly commercial airlines in your pursuit of game and fish. A hunter walked up to the airline check-in counter, placed his three bags on the scale and handed his ticket to the pretty blond behind the counter. The reservation clerk smiled. "Good morning, Mr. Jones. I see you are going to Anchorage today. Is this all of your luggage?" "Yes, mam, that's it. Oh, before I forget; I would like these two sent to Anchorage and the gun case shipped to Detroit." Looking somewhat puzzled by the strange request, the comely girl's expression went serious. "I'm sorry, sir, but we can't do that. Your luggage must go to the final destination on your ticket." "What do you mean you can't do it! You did it the last time I flew on your airline." ----- 30 -----

Since about 80% of the air we breathe is nitrogen, the above is harmless. Plus, the gas is NOT being injected into the meat. Since the early 2000s, they have used nitrogen, carbon dioxide and a bit of carbon monoxide to PACKAGE the meat, which displaces the oxygen, thus helping retain the meat's red color. And...the increased nitrogen preserves freshness, protects the nutrients, and prevents aerobic microbial growth. This is NOT done for meat that is cut and packaged by a butcher in a store; it applies to only pre-packaged stuff.

Available again. Please read the ENTIRE text, especially this: "...or shipped at buyer's expense."

Me too. Many on the list were my contributions. 🙄

At least 30-35 years ago.

Here's another......... LAST SHOT Copyright by Tony Mandile START SEARCHING FOR BIRDS As the adage says, time really flies. A few months ago, I put all my guns in their cases and put them safely in my out-of-the-way niche where someone has to jump through countless hoops to find and "borrow." By the time you read this, though, I'll have been out in the field at least once or twice in pursuit of the wily dove. And like many of you, the little gray rockets will have frustrated me into expending copious numbers of shotgun shells for the privilege of a few bites of meat. Doing anything else would make it seem as if I had shirked my obligation of helping keep world's shotgun ammo makers in business. Yet, as the season progresses, the places where bird numbers were on opening day often lose their appeal. Sometimes, the hunting pressure causes it. At other times changing factors such as the lack of once plentiful water or feed become the culprits. Although I have done it in the past when the bird population was still high, hunting a particular spot year after year is not always a sure bet. Low grain prices might force a local farmer to switch to a more profitable crop, such as cotton, which doesn't attract birds. Or expanding development, fires and floods might have destroyed traditional roosting habitat. So it's best to get out before heading to a once favorite hotspot. Thus, prior to the opening day, I always scout out several alternative sites, and usually do so only a few days before the season. This latter part helps me avoid wasting time. Even a sudden monsoon can completely change the birds' habit in a particular area. One year, I went out two weeks before opening day and outstanding millet field with an irrigation ditch full of water running through it and a large citrus orchard bordering it. Waves of doves going from the cover of the orange trees to feed on the millet filled the sky on both mornings I spent there. I arrived a half-hour before sunrise on opening morning and walked to my preselected ambush spot. When the sun rose, only few blackbirds flew out of the grove. A developer had graded the grain field, filled the irrigation ditch and already had marked the now dusty land with wooden stakes. A large sign next to the road announced the future home of an 800,000-square-foot mall! Even if you have a great spot for the opener, it still pays to have a backup or two. In fact, as season continues, I'm constantly searching for better hunting areas. My way involves a lot of driving, especially early and late in the day when the birds are moving. That's the time it's easier to pattern their daily routines. If you can figure out where they eat, drink and nest, you've won half the battle. Occasionally, this will take more than a day. Searching out a likely ambush spot comes next. I look for a natural blind that allows me to see in all directions. For the ease of locating downed birds, I also want one with fairly open ground close at hand. The blind might simply be a big tree, a pile of tumbleweeds or an irrigation ditch deep enough to hide in without getting wet. As a matter of habit, I always wear clothing that will blend with my planned hideout and avoid ANY white or bright colors. Many of the places I hunt border public land. At times, though, the better flights of birds take place over someone's farm, in which case I request the owner's permission to hunt. Most landowners are happy to have you as long as they know what you're doing in their fields. In 25 years, only one farmer, who carefully explained his anti-hunting philosophy, has refused me access. If you live in the Phoenix metro area and don't mind driving a bit, look to the state wildlife areas. Arlington, Robbins Butte and Black Butte are owned by the Arizona Game and Fish Department. All three are in the "Green Belt," a swath of lush vegetation that parallels the Gila River from Phoenix to Arizona's western border with California near Yuma. Local farmers lease the land and raise grain crops to help feed the doves that roost in the thick growth along the river. These areas offer excellent pass shooting as the birds fly from their roosts in the thickets and head to the nearby grain fields. Many hunters favor citrus groves or desert water holes, but over the last 25 years the farm country west of Phoenix, near Buckeye and Gila Bend, have been the most productive for me. In most places, a person who can shoot reasonably well --- certainly better me --- can take a limit in less time than it takes to eat a hearty breakfast. In the southern half of state, a lot of cities and towns have nearby agricultural regions. The farms around Casa Grande, Eloy and Florence normally offer excellent shooting. Some wing-shooters regularly describe the hunting in the fields near Yuma as incredible. At times, the Picacho Reservoir area rates a "10" as well. A friend of mine from Tucson regularly takes limits near that city or sometimes goes east to the grain fields around Safford or Wilcox. -----30-----

Thank you.

J.C Products is in Buckeye now. https://jcproductsusa.com/index.php

Many months ago, I was going to start a thread that would have had of lot of this sort of "history" in it, but since I often get PMs asking me about my background, etc., I was thinking about also making it a part of the thread from my early years on up the ladder. That old photo of the Jewel Box pawn shop was to be a part of it. Then, given the mood around here, I thought better of that idea. and scrapped it.

Thanks for the sentiments, Kev, but I much prefer a plain ol' uncomplicated sale with money.

BOTH KNIVES ARE SOLD PENDING FUNDS I acquired these knives direct from Spyderco in the early1980s at an outdoor show, while the patent for their design was still pending. Like the Circe call I listed, I cannot find an image of these exact knives. I even checked the Spyderco forum, where I joined two days ago but still haven't been verified to post images or questions. I was able to view all the other posts, however. FROM THE WEBSITE: Why the Round Hole? One of the most common questions we get from people new to Spyderco knives is “Why the Round Hole?” The Round Hole allows the blade of a folding knife to be swiftly and easily opened with only one hand. This revolutionary feature was granted a U.S. utility patent in 1981 and literally helped define the form of the modern folding knife. Unlike thumb studs, disks, and other one-hand-opening attachments, the hole offers a larger surface area for greater reliability and does not interfere with the cutting action of the blade. An iconic symbol of our brand, the Trademark Round Hole™ also serves as a user-friendly alternative to a traditional nail nick in our two-hand-opening folders and a proud expression of our brand identity in our fixed-blade knives. Why the Clip? Spyderco was the first company to equip a folding knife with a pocket clip. This revolutionary feature was introduced on our very first folding knife design in 1981 and allows a folding knife to be carried at the top of the pocket where it is easily accessible and does not interfere with access to other items in the pocket. This brilliantly simple idea inspired our entire line of CLIP-IT® knives and also helped define the form of the modern folding knife. Although it is now commonplace on most brands of folding knives, it all started with Spyderco. These models were made in Seki, Japan and are entirely stainless steel. They are nearly identical except for the blades; one has a smooth edge and the other -- engraved one -- is serrated. The engraved one has never been used or sharpened. The other was only lightly used maybe twice. Any scratches came about because they were thrown in a drawer with other stuff for nearly 40 years. My name is actually a copy of my signature back then, so it's kind of an autograph. Straight Blade - $125 Serrated -- $160 I will consider reasonable offers but no trades. Payment via PayPal (buyer doesn't need an acct; just a CC or checking acct.) or cash only. Picked up near 67th Ave. and Camelback or shipped at buyer's expense.

You got it!

Jack Cain's main income came from his barbershop in Goodyear. I seem to recall that he sold the call interest but continued to make various reeds. He was quite active at the assorted calling competitions that took place in AZ, CA and TX, as was one of my early hunting mentors.

Written many years ago for my column in AZ Hunter & Angler: THE LAST SHOT OCTOBER Copyright by Tony Mandile SHERIFF SPOILS DOVE OPENER The August LAST SHOT column concerning Arizona State Trust Lands revealed the fact that the Maricopa County Sheriff's Department deputy who denied access to a citizen was unaware of the statute that permits licensed hunters and fishermen to legal trespass on trust lands. September's column covered the subject of poaching and obeying the game laws. Coincidentally, this column will intertwine with that one. On September 1, at the invitation of President Michael Bond, I joined about 40 other members of the Phoenix chapter of Safari Club for a pancake breakfast and dove hunt on a private dairy farm southwest of Phoenix. The organizers of the shoot had obtained permission from the owner. At first light, we spread out along the two private dirt roads on the farm to await the morning flight of birds. An hour later, a Maricopa County Sheriff's Department car with two uniformed officers --- one male and one female --- drove up and stopped to tell each one of us we were hunting illegally. My conversation with the male half of the duo went something like this. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave. You're hunting within a quarter of a mile of those houses." The deputy cocked his head in the direction of a row of houses. To me, all of the homes seemed to be much farther away. "I can't really argue with you because I haven't measured the distance, but they look like they're at least a half-mile away," I said. The deputy then pointed to a farm shed. "What about that one?" he asked. "That's only a hundred yards away, but it's not occupied. Besides even if it was, we have permission to hunt here. In fact, I could be shooting off of the farmer's back porch, if I wanted to." "Do you have written permission on you?" he asked. "I don't need written permission. All I need is verbal permission. If you're so concerned, drive over and ask the farmer. "How many birds do you have?" I reached down and counted the doves on my bird belt. "Six," I replied. The deputy "You're done hunting anyway. You've got your limit." By this time, I was starting to get angry. The last thing I needed was a game law violation on my record. On the other hand, I thought no court possibly could find me guilty of a citation from a deputy with little knowledge of the game laws. With a degree of sarcasm, I let my displeasure be known, almost daring him to write me a ticket. "The limit happens to be ten, and no more than six may be whitewings," I told him. "If you plan on enforcing the game laws, you should know what they are." "It seems you're the one who doesn't know them. You'd better leave or I will cite you." I though twice about wanting a citation. Resisting the urge to challenge the deputy further, I picked up my spent cases and joined the others for a cup of coffee. In the meantime, I already was thinking about this column. Ironically, the subjects of my last two columns had merged, so to speak, to affect me personally. I found out later that the female deputy was a detention officer for the sheriff's department and lived in one of the houses the deputy said we were too close to. Unfortunately for us, two hunters who were not part of our group had parked near her house and had hunted quite close to it. A few of their errant shots had peppered her car and roof. As a result, rather than call the game department, she contacted the county sheriff's substation in Avondale for assistance. Since we were hunting nearby, we, too, were deemed lawbreakers. Undoubtedly, if the deputy who answered the call knew anything about ballistics, he should have known the chance of our little #8 shot coming remotely close to any of the houses, even if they were within a quarter-mile, was highly unlikely. The small shot from the low-based loads probably travels no more than 150 yards, at best. After the two officers left, one of our group hopped in his truck, drove to the nearest house and clocked the distance to the spot we were hunting. It measured just under a half-mile. Still fuming from the morning's undue harassment, I called the Avondale substation later in the day and spoke to Officer Ott. I asked for the deputy's name. Ott told me the car's license number was not enough to identify the deputy. When he asked why I wanted it, I told him. I also cited the pertinent laws regarding the accusations. Here's how they read: BUILDINGS - It is unlawful to discharge a firearm within one quarter-mile of an occupied building while hunting without permission of the owner or occupant. (Title 17, 17-309, #4 of 1987 Arizona Game & Fish Regulations) DOVE LIMIT - Ten (10) mourning and white-winged in the aggregate, of which no more than six (6) may be white-winged doves. (Commission Order 19, Federal Migratory Bird Regulations) As anyone can readily see from the underlined words, the deputy was way off base on all counts. None of the laws mention the need for written permission, and a ramshackle stock shed definitely fails to meet the criteria of an occupied building. As for the limit, the numbers are quite clear. I sympathized with Ott when he told me most of his officers did nothing but police dove hunters on opening morning. At the same time I expressed my concern at how a peace officer can answer complaints and cite violators when he, himself, is ignorant of the laws. Officer Ott said he would mention the confrontation to his supervisors. A few days after the incident, I spoke with Bill Powers, the head of the game department's enforcement division. He concurred with my assessment of the unfortunate incident. I suggested he send numerous copies of the regulations to each substation. Surprisingly, he said before the season began he had mailed over 30,000 memos outlining the 1987 dove hunting regulations to every law enforcement officer in the state. This was done to eliminate exactly what occurred, Powers said. Evidently, at least one individual failed to read the pertinent memo. Or perhaps, because the person doing the complaining just happened to be a fellow officer, the correct statutes made little difference? Regardless of the reason, the Maricopa County Sheriff's Department needs to have their officers bone up on the multitude of Arizona's laws, or it should leave the enforcement of such laws to the agencies who do know them. ----- 30 -----

Once you nail down a state, be sure to visit it for several days during every season. A state that's nice in summer could be a downer during the winter. In the mid-70s, we bought a resort near Vallecito Lake at 8300', about 25 miles from Durango, CO. I first visited the area for a DIY horseback hunt in the 60s, and we began taking our vacations there every SUMMER for about six years. The skiing, fishing & hunting were super and the scenery was spectacular. We arrived on Jan. 10 during a snowstorm and left on Jan. 10 during a snowstorm three years later. The winters were an endless chain of snowfalls, eventually adding up to more than 400 inches a year. The first year, it was a novelty, not so much the next two. So we moved back here where coping with the summer heat is better than using a snowmobile to get around. 😎 MORAL: Go somewhere for the summer and somewhere for the winter.

I forgot to add Mexico, New Zealand and Africa to the places I've been to hunt/fish.

City is for convenience. Lived in the Valley since 1962, with a brief 3-year exodus in the 1970's to the Colorado high country (Vallecito Lake at 8300' outside of Durango) where we owned a resort. Guided fishermen in the summer, hunters in the fall and hit nails in the winter & spring. But...I've always been the "Have gun/rod, will travel" type. As such, I've been fortunate to hunt or fish in 39 states and 10 Canadian provinces. So it's been a good & full life for this outdoorsman. 😎

Haven't got to the photos yet. Will try ASAP.

I own my grandfather's Parker Bros. 10 ga. that was made sometime in the late 1800s. I posted the following in the Parker Bro. Collector's Forum in 2011. Several years ago, I inherited a 10 ga. from my grandfather when he passed away. Although it all seems to be original with matching SNs on the barrels, forearm and receiver, it's unfortunately not in pristine shape. It was likely rusty at some point because it appears the outer metal was perhaps polished clean with maybe a wire brush or steel wool. There are no actual scratches but there is some pitting left. The hammers, firing pins and triggers are intact and work just fine, as does the lifter release. Here's a quick description: Exposed hammers, lifter-type action and 35 1/2" (36"??) Damascus barrels. It has a small silver shield behind the tang and minimal engraving -- just scroll work, no birds and such. So I guess it's one of the lower grades produced. The buttstock is walnut with a very nice figure to it. It has a silver metal butt plate. Slight crack between tang and the shield and the checkering has been worn down a bit. Forend also is cracked along the entire length except for about an inch at the front. It is still in one piece, however. The SN is 18884. Other numbers I can find are a Patent of April 19 (or 12), 1876 and the number 9761 under the barrel. There are also a 4-1 and 3 stamped where the barrels fits to the action. The Patent on the buttstock is March 16, 1875. I looked at the list of SNs here and see it was seemingly made in 1880. I've pretty much resigned myself to continue using it has a decoration in my trophy room because of the sentimental value but wonder as to the real worth of it. These are a few replies I received: According to the Serialization Book compiled from Parker Brothers stock books, your gun appears to be a rare Grade 2 36" Damascus steel barrel ten gauge lifter action Parker with straight grip stock, unfortunately in abused condition. ******* Yes, rare, like not many made in that configuration. It makes Parker guys like me just go crazy. There were 12 ten gauge Grade 2 lifter Parkers made with 36" Damascus steel barrels according to our Serialization Book reference. There were 13 ten gauge Grade 2 lifters of all barrel types made with 36" barrels from a total ten gauge lifter Grade 2 production of 1854. There were 21 Grade 2 36" barrel lifters made in all gauges. These totals were extrapolated by the authors, but not necessarily accurately.

With all this talk about meat and shellfish, thought I'd post this recipe I've been using for about 30 years. It was always a big hit on the Steenkin' Peeg Hunts i organized for 10 years or so. Pickled Shrimp 3 pounds of cooked, deveined med. shrimp 1 large, thinly sliced onion 1 1/4 cups salad oil 3/4 cup white vinegar 1 1/2 tsp salt 2 1/2 tsp celery seeds 3 Tbsp capers & juice 2 dashes tabasco or Louisiana Hot Sauce 1 crushed clove garlic Combine all ingredients in a bowl. Allow to marinate several hours, preferably overnight. Remove garlic before serving. Serves 12-16. For one pound of shrimp, just use a 1/3 of the other ingredients except for tabasco and garlic.