Outdoor Writer

Me thinks that's correct. No longer, however. Even AGFD recommends Power Bait.

They must have all died out. I seem to recall the grayling plants. I have a couple old articles about the Rim lakes on another computer that went belly up on me yesterday. Soon as I figure out how to retrieve them, I'll check. Here's the current info from the AGFD: BEAR CANYON Description A beautiful, narrow and canyon-bound lake, Bear Canyon Lake is another in a series of lakes built by Arizona Game and Fish Department to provide fishing opportunities for anglers. Despite being several miles down a dirt road and having few amenities, it draws many visitors. It's a scenic drive to the lake on Forest Road 300 (known locally as the Rim Road or 300 road), which offers several lookout points with spectacular vistas and views from the edge of the Mogollon Rim. A short, but somewhat difficult hike is required to reach the lake. At an elevation of 7.560 feet, the 60-acre Bear Canyon Lake has no launching facilities since it's a walk-in only lake. Due to its depth (max. depth 50-feet), the lake has no water quality problems. The Arizona Game and Fish Department stocks Bear Canyon Lake with 12-inch rainbow trout throughout the spring and summer. Bear Canyon Lake is a “Pack it in-Pack it out” area with no garbage disposal or services at the lake. Please pack out your trash, including discarded fishing line and other tackle. The lake is normally open from April to November. Weather can change the dates the lake is accessible. Call the Apache-Sitgreaves National Forest Black Mesa District at (928) 535-7300 for the most up-to-date information, or go to Apache-Sitgreaves National Forest - Bear Canyon Lake. Species Sportfish species include rainbow trout. and green sunfish.

Video worked fine for me. And that is definitely a nice graylng for AZ. I didn't realize they planted them is creeks. The only place I've caught them was Lee Valley, and that was years ago. They were all 1/2 the size of the one you caught, though. The fifth photo down appears to be a native Apache trout.

Yes and no. Note that this uses cooked shrimp. As you probably know, raw shrimp goes into cerviche, and the lime juice sort of cooks it. I often make cerviche as a small appetizer using only three or four shrimp with red onion, jalapeno, tomatoes, cilantro and avocado. Most recipes call for cucumber but I don't like it, so I leave it out.

This was written and posted on Facebook by a long-time friend, Michael Furtman, after his other Lab, Bella, was put down. Having lost two Labs over the past decade, I know the feeling that comes with such losses. This reminded me and made me cry again. 😢 P.S. - The spelling & grammar are intentionally written as they appear. After all it's a dog writing it. 😉 Michael Furtman 20h SCOUT REPORT #71 Hi. My name is Scout. I’m a good dog. A sad dog. And a confused dog. See, this is me on Bella’s dog bed with her collar. I can smell her on both. Buts I cant find her nowhere, and I’ve looked all over the house. So I’m sad. I want my big sister! Even on the day Pops drove up to get me from my breeders, Bella was there. She sorta got the final word if I was to ride in her truck. And be her stoodint. In almost my whole life I've never been without Bella! At first I thought maybe she tookeded a trip or something. But Pops said she got sick and died and wouldn't be back. I didn't believe him. When he said it was time for a walk, I raced downstairs to get Bella. That's my job. But she weren't there. Then today pops and mom was all blubbery. Crying lots. Every time I licked pops face it was all salty. I got fed by myself. I got walked by myself. Pops went looking for critters to pitcher, and I was alone with him. That's never happened. Bella took the left window and I took the right, helping him. So I think pops was telling the truth. Bella isn't here no more and won't be. I remember that me and her talked lots. About her getting old. About pops getting old. She didnt say nothing about herself leaving, but she did say lots about how it was my job now to take care of pops, to find critters to pitcher, to fetch critters during the hunt, to keep him from lonlinessism. "Squirt," she said (she always called me that), "you have to promise me that you'll take care of dad. He pretends he's tough, and in some ways, he really is. But not his heart. His heart is easily bruised. I don't want it broken. So when your time comes, promise me you'll love him like I do. If you do, he'll be the best dad ever, and you'll do things few dogs will ever get to do. And you'll be loved more than you can imagine. And if you DON'T take care of dad, I'll come back somehow. And you won't like it." Course I thoughts that was long ways off. Sure, she was gray. And she had tough times going up stairs. But she was my big sister, and she was always with me. And we ate deer turds together. We hunted grouse and peasants together (she couldn't hunt ducks no more). And we swum. And I kissed her face every time I saw it -- and she liked it. But pretended not. Bella, wherever you've gone, I want you to know that I love you. That mom and pops are missing you and cry at the very thought of you. I've not cried. Dogs don't. But I miss you. I miss you. I can feel you here with me. Big sister, thank you. Thank you for all you taught me. I'll do my best to keep pops from lonlinessism, I promise. I don't know who will keep me from it, though. I guess it's my time. Bella, I guess you gave me all that could be asked for. I guess that's why it was your time to be peaceful-like. I guess you were done. I guess it's good. I guess it's bad. I guess I'm confused. But this isn't a guess. You loved me. You loved pops and mom. And we allz loved you. And we allz miss you. Come to me in my dreams big sister. I will be waiting for you.

My best friend of 40+ years, Joe Reynolds, lives in Ocean City. Every time I go to visit we do at least one "let's pig out on crabs" night. But they ain't cheap in the restaurants. A dozen med. usually go for at least $75. In a way, it's sort of goofy that we go buy them since Joe's house has a back bay called Manklin Creek in his backyard, and he has all the necessary gear for crabbing. One time when I was there, I used his nets off his boat dock and caught 2 dozen in a couple hours. That afternoon I made a crab salad with all the legs and bodies mixed with lemon juice & rinds, diced celery and parsley and left it to marinate overnight.

Yum. Looks like a porterhouse, right?

Both the clams ($5.99 lb.) and the steak were excellent. The pre-packaged steaks were cut about an 1" thick, and the "filet" part was large and very tender. The large side was not as tender but quite good.

I'll be taking a few more photos today.

Well done. It took me 40 years.

Do you see this when you shave: WARNING - Objects in mirror are DUMBER than they appear?

High prices on normal grocery items, but show me somewhere else where you can buy beef tenderloin in the valley for $6.99 lb. on sale, and I'd gladly buy it there.

Safeway

My SO just returned from Safeway with eight T-bones, on sale for $4.97 lb.. She also treated me with more cherrystone clams and two pounds of snow crab clusters. Clams and one of the steaks on tonight's menu.

I wrote this many years ago for my column in AZ Hunter & Angler. LAST SHOT by Tony Mandile GOODBYE TO MY BEST FRIEND It was nearly 12 years ago, and I had just returned from a bird hunt at a preserve near Mesquite, Nevada. My wife, engrossed in a late-night soap on TV, paid little attention as I carried the box into the room and set it down on the floor. At the exact moment I dutifully bent down to give her a greeting peck on the cheek, the cardboard box whimpered. Ellen immediately knew the source of the noise. Normally, she would wait for a commercial break before we could talk. Not this time, however. "You had to do this to me, huh?" she said. Rather than answer, I quickly removed my latest acquisition from the box and sheepishly raised its wiggling body. I figured even Ellen couldn't resist a cuddly, 8-week-old puppy. "Isn't she cute?" Ellen's cold stare became a faint smile. "I just knew when you called the other night you already had made up your mind. I know you too well." Per my normal routine on trips lasting more than a couple days, I had called two days earlier to check in. During that conversation I mentioned that the preserve manager was selling pups from a litter his German shorthair bitch had dropped. Ellen's comment was expected. "You're not buying one, are you?" "You've got to be kidding. "He wants $500 apiece for them." I quickly changed the subject. My wife really loves dogs. At the time all this occurred we actually had two of them. Thus her reluctance when there was even a hint of me getting us a third one. Of course, she wasn't too enamored with the $500 price tag either. The latter objection became meaningless after an explanation of how I traded a $200 S&W revolver for the dog. So with the tension eased, I set the 8-week-old pup on Ellen's lap, and within minutes the new family member was sound asleep. Before we went to bed that night, Ellen already had named the liver and white puppy "Ginger." I had planned to have Bruce Ludlow train her to hunt. He suggested I wait until she was at least six months old, which I did. Over the next five months, though, the house seemed like a three-ring circus. Having three dogs running around was bad enough; having one that showed excellent retrieving tendencies produced a constant state of alertness, however. From the second day she arrived in the house, Ginger would fetch anything she felt capable of carrying. Nothing was off limits; socks, tennis shoes, boots, empty film cans, and towels were key targets. And the larger she grew, the bigger her "toys" became. Fortunately, she rarely chewed them. Bruce had told me it might happen. He also said I should take away the object of her affection gently, without scolding her. Most of the time, she gave up her playthings without resistance by promptly dropping them into my hand. Finally when Ginger was nine months old, Ellen and I took her north to Ludlow's place in Chino Valley. To gauge her readiness for training, he planted a live pigeon and worked the pup on a long lead rope. Within seconds, Ginger picked up the bird's scent and locked on point as if she had been doing it for years. Bruce dropped the rope and flushed the bird. Ginger broke point when I shot the pigeon, but she ran directly to it, picked it up and brought it back to me. Like she did with my dirty socks, she dropped the dead pigeon in my hand Bruce smiled. "It looks like you'll have one heck of a new hunting partner." I looked at Ellen; she was smiling, too. At the time, neither Ellen or I realized just how much Ginger would become part of our lives. Over the next seven or eight years, we had to have the other two dogs put down. Only Ginger remained, and from that first night she fell asleep on Ellen's lap, she became a very important part of our family -- a hunting companion for me and a dear friend to both of us. Ginger refused to believe she was a dog. With the run of the house, she adopted two couches and a recliner as her own. Often, when I stretched out on one couch to watch TV, Ginger would curl up between me and the back of the couch. Sometimes she would put her head over my body and under my arm. At other times she would rest her chin on my shoulder, her nose within inches of my ear. This wasn't too bad until she began snoring. If there was anything Ginger disliked, it was being alone. She followed me throughout the house from room to room, including the bathroom. If I stayed in one room, so would she, usually curled up within a foot or two of my feet. If I was gone on a trip somewhere, she followed Ellen. Ginger was also a watchdog - sort of. Her bark was VERY loud. No one could come on our property without hearing the bark. But in all the years, she never once growled at or bit anyone. Actually, she was kind of afraid of strangers that came into the house. Once someone had pet her, though, she turned into an instant friend. A few months ago, Ginger began eating less and losing weight. At first I thought her new eating habit was merely due to her advancing age and inactivity. I was wrong. After a while she became listless, even to the point where she stopped following me around. I knew something was definitely amiss. All too often, she would climb on the couch and stay there most of the day. Her bark turned to a yelp. A few visits to the vet included myriad tests and various medications for her fever and growing arthritis. At first the vet thought she had tick or valley fever, both of which would have been treatable. Several hundred dollars later and two weeks before I planned to leave on an extended trip to Mexico, however, the diagnosis became final: -- cancer of the pancreas. She might live anywhere from a couple weeks to three months. Over the next week, while Ginger's condition worsened, Ellen and I discussed the options. I didn't want to go off to Mexico and leave her to deal with the inevitable. Finally, on Feb. 23, two days before I left Phoenix, I brought Ginger to the vet's office for the last time. I held her as her life slowly and painlessly ebbed away. Although I had done it many times before with other dogs, saying "goodbye" this time wasn't easy. I shed a lot of tears because Ginger was my best friend. ----- 30 -----

GAME AND FISH NEWS Aug. 13, 2020 AZGFD's countdown to dove season continues Check out a new video each week leading up to Sept. 1 opener PHOENIX — As we continue to hunker down at home, we’re constantly scrolling through our mobile devices, looking for anything that might be entertaining to watch, right? Well, if you’re a dove hunter who’s counting down the days (19) until the Sept. 1 opener, the Arizona Game and Fish Department will be rolling out a new video each week that is sure to whet your wing-shooting appetite, from where to hunt, to how to turn those birds into tasty table fare. Just keep checking your email each week, and enjoy what our professionals in the audio-visual department have produced about hunting doves, Arizona-style. This week: Dove Season Opener in 60 Seconds And, for those who might have missed it . . . Aug. 6: Dove Hunting Near Agriculture July 30: Women's "Learn to Hunt" Group July 24: Yuma: A Dove Hunter’s Paradise

GAME AND FISH NEWS July 30, 2020 AZGFD's countdown to dove season continues Check out a new video each week leading up to Sept. 1 opener PHOENIX — As we continue to hunker down at home, we’re constantly scrolling through our mobile devices, looking for anything that might be entertaining to watch, right? Well, if you’re a dove hunter who’s counting down the days (34) until the Sept. 1 opener, the Arizona Game and Fish Department will be rolling out a new video each week that is sure to whet your wing-shooting appetite, from where to hunt, to how to turn those birds into tasty table fare. Just keep checking your email each week, and enjoy what our professionals in the audio-visual department have produced about hunting doves, Arizona-style. This week: Women's "Learn to Hunt" Group And, for those who might have missed it . . . July 24: Yuma: A Dove Hunter’s Paradise

It's been many years since I've been there, but there was a water catchment near where the Big Saddle hunting camp once stood. I think it was right near the intersection of FS roads 425 and 292, which goes to Crazy Jug Point. About every time I've been there, I've seen a flock of turkey at or within a few hundred yards of the tank.

And the dog's spelling and grammar are quite a bit better than yours.

Man, you're a lot stronger than me. I doubt I could ever do that.

I posted this in 2011 when Sasha died. Note the sentence in bold type. It was written before we met Hershey. ************************************************************** I thought I was pretty tough in situations like this, but Weds. was a really rough day for me. That's why my initial message was short and to the point. When I sat on the couch to watch TV Tues. night, Sasha came running with her Kong toy, as she often did. She'd bring it to me and then back off about 6-8 ft. so I could throw it for her to catch in mid-air. She kept at it until I told her "no more." When I did that, she laid down on the floor next to me, between the couch and the coffee table. Her Kong was nestled between her front paws next to her nose. That was the last time I saw her alive. I eventually fell asleep on the couch where I spent the night. Weds. morning, I woke up about 4:15, turned on the kitchen light and made coffee, etc., etc. Usually as soon as I get up, Sasha would be at my heels. I was awake for about two hours when I finally realized I hadn't seen her. I began looking. She wasn't in any of her usual haunts. First place I checked was the couch in the front living room where she often sleeps; it's the only piece of furniture in the entire house she was allowed access to. The couch was empty. I then started checking all the other empty, dark rooms by calling her name from the doorways. When she didn't come to my calls, I went out back and called for her from the patio. Nothing. By now, it was about time for my wife to get up, so I opened the bedroom door and turned on the light to see if Sasha might have been closed in there when Ellen had gone to bed. Sasha wasn't there either. So I asked my wife if she had maybe opened the front door after I fell asleep. Although I knew Sasha wouldn't go anywhere, I thought perhaps she had been isolated to the front patio. But the few times that has happened, she barked continuously until one of us let her into the house again. But Ellen hadn't been out front at all since she got home from work at 5:30. I decided to check each room again. I turned on the light in the spare front bedroom -- one Sasha rarely went into unless Ellen or I were in there for something. I could see her nose sticking out on the far side of one of the beds in there. I walked over, sat on the other bed and could tell she wasn't breathing even before I reached down to touch her. My wife walked in right behind me, and all I could say was "She's dead." Ellen said, "Oh no." By then, I was already in tears. Ellen joined me. It was really quiet and sad here yesterday as I went about the business of doing what I had to do with Sasha's lifeless body. Few words were exchanged at the dinner table last night. This morning isn't much better as I move about the house and see Sasha's crate, toys, bowls and beds still where they were when she died. The Kong is still laying between the couch and table, where she had left it. Her collar now hangs alongside the one that belonged to my German shorthair, Ginger. At least with Ginger, knowing she was old and had cancer gave me time to realize she would soon be gone. Sure it was hard to take her to the vet and have her in my hands as the injection caused her life to leave her. I still shed some tears, but by then I was ready to handle them. That's been the case with almost all of the pups I've owned over many years. Most have lived to old age. That's not the case with Sasha's sudden and unexplained death at less than five years old. While I certainly wouldn't want her to have suffered, I would have been happier if we both had several more years to enjoy each other's company. And if dogs could talk, I bet she would have said the same thing. As I said after Ginger died, I'll likely never get another pup. If I ever decide to make such a mistake, though, it would be quite difficult to find another with Sasha's temperament and personality. The sadness will last a long time, but after a few days, we'll get over the loss somewhat and move on as we have in past situations such as this. Anyway...I really appreciate the sentiments from everyone. Thank you all.

I was just the opposite. After the deal with Ginger, no way was I going through it again. We simply left Hershey at the Humane Society.

This was Bella's last post on FB: BELLA HERE... So here I am with my sidekick Streak. You know how superheroes have names like Flash or Raven or Hulk? Well, Scout is “Streak” and my name is “Stealth.” Stealth because I’ve always been stealthy - sneaking up on rooster pheasants while hunting with dad, or hanging back real good like when I saw dad trying to photograph a critter. And I used to cougar him — stalking him ever—-so—-slowly as I crept up in play. Now I use my super stealth powers to please myself. Like tonight. We were all out for a walk. Dad saw some bird. While he was busy, I crept away. There was green grass to eat, and fresh deer droppings, and I let my nose lead me wherever. I may be old, but I can still vanish in a hurry! That’s when dad gets worried. He couldn’t find me and got a bit scared, but I was fine. And having a good time. That’s when Streak appeared. See, dad has taught Scout to track me when he says “find Bella” (my name is Stealth!). And so she does. She comes streaking in, and lets me know dad is worried. So I follow her back (in a sort of in-my-own-time fashion). Then dad is happy and he doesn’t even yell at me. He just gives me a big hug and sighs. So this is a photo of Stealth (the good looking dog) and Streak after our adventures. Dad thinks we’re both super!

This is the the subject of Scout's note. Posted by Mike on FB, as well. WITH HER NOSE TO THE WIND, AND HER TAIL HELD HIGH... Bella the Wonderdog set out on her last long retrieve today. A rapidly developing, inoperable tumor in her jaw and throat would have led to a short, painful future. We decided to bear the pain ourselves, and sent her on that last retrieve. We are heartbroken.

Went though that with my German shorthair, Ginger. She had pancreatic cancer and developed a huge tumor. I held her and started bawling when the vet gave her the shots.