Youth Hunter Takes First Duck Bill Cooper for the Leader Journal 11/10/1`4 Ten-year-old Lance Ybarra, of St. James, killed his first duck early last Saturday morning. That event would never make the newspapers, if I was not sitting here pounding on the keys. The harvest proved to be a big event for young Lance. Lance is a consummate outdoorsman. He would rather be outside than inside most of the time. His father, Patrick, loves the outdoors as well and sees than Lance gets plenty of opportunities to pursue his passion. The two of them spend a lot of time together outdoors. Pat is as patient as Job and Lance is like a sponge, soaking up every bit of information his father, or anyone else dispenses to him about the outdoors. My son-in-law Jayson Parsons asked me about going duck hunting. It is always an understood that Patrick will be in tow. He has become a regular at our family functions and is considered one of us and knows he and his boys are always welcome. It came as a bit of a surprise when my son, Jayson Cooper, called me and asked me if Lance Ybarra could accompany me, JP and Patrick on the duck hunt. “I think Pat is too shy to ask you,dad,” Jayson had said. I couldn’t imagine Pat being shy. He never meets a stranger. “Sure, Lance can come,” I told Jayson. “Lance is a great kid and loves the outdoors. Duck hunting will be a great experience for him.” I spoke with JP and we agreed to meet at one of my favorite duck hunting spots at 5:30 a.m. I would arrive early, select a spot and through out the decoys. I had just finished tossing out about 75 decoys, far more than usual, when the guys arrived. Lance glowed in the dark. His youthful exuberance brought back memories of many kids I have introduced to the outdoors over the years. I had teased Lance the day before that I charged a food tariff to get on my boat. He showed up with a breakfast burrito in hand! We quickly pushed the boat up against some lakeside cattails. JP and Pat sat in the boat, while Lance and I sat two camp chairs in the reeds ten yards away. I like spending time with a kid on his first duck hunt. I can give them the advantage easily. I had three lines of decoys set about 30 yards out to attract diving ducks. Twenty yards to the downwind side I had two small family groups of mallard and pintail decoys set. The first ducks of the day will often sit down in the family groups. The Eastern sky furnished a blush of pink and red to inspire as. Just minutes after shooting hours began, a lone ringneck duck sailed towards one of the family group sets and sat down. To insure success on his first attempt at duck hunting, I allowed Lance to shoot the duck on the water. He made a quick, clean kill. Cheers erupted from all of us. Lance became the hero of the day. We each took numerous photos and returned to the hunt. Lance chattered steadily about how proud he was of his duck. He watched intently as several more small groups of ducks worked the decoys. I explained each of the calls I made and he watched as ducks responded to my calls. Lance Ybarra became a duck hunter on Saturday. He will be a lifer. To commemorate the day, I presented him with a 75th anniversary Ducks Unlimited Call. I also told him that midnight was the best time to practice on his new call.

Trout in History's Shadow

TROUT IN HISTORY’S SHADOW Bill Cooper for www.southerntrout.com May/June 2014 A slightly noticeable dimple appeared in the slick water of Maramec Spring Branch when the plump, 2-pound trout sipped the surface for the tiny mosquito imitation. Th trout appeared healthy and strong. The well-colored fish powered its way upstream and quartered into current. I grimaced as my fly line peeled from the reel. My 1-pound leader remained in tact, even through four spectacular jumps, which the trout executed in quick fashion. All too soon, I slid my landing net under the exhausted fish. When the fly line went slack, the tiny fly fell from the trout’s jaw. The sun soon sunk low in the west, casing long shadows from the remains of a long long-dilapidated pre-settlement ironworks furnace nearby. I relished the moment. My mind wanderer from the pleasures of the stream’s trout fishing to times long past, when hardy pioneers struggled to eke out a living from a frontier business venture, the Marmec Iron Works. In 1825, The Courtois Hills region of southeast Missouri remained one of the most formidable wilderness areas in the new state of Missouri. Mile after mile of hog-backed ridges lay between Maramec Spring and the St. Louis region, almost 100 miles away. The vast wilderness long remained a physical barrier to settlement, transportation and communication. A few pioneer attempts had been made to mine the unusual sinkhole iron ore deposits found in what is now Phelps, Crawford and Dent counties. All had failed, however, until an Ohio ironmonger by the name of Thomas James explored the area after learning about hematite deposits from a ban of Shawnee Indians. The tribe’s members camped on James’ Ohio property while on their way to Washington, D.C. Alongside Maramec Spring, James managed to establish the first successful ironworks west of the Mississippi River. An entire company-owned village developed around the endeavor, which lasted from 1826 to 1876. The legacy and romance of the frontier business are still alive today within the boundaries of Maramec Spring Park, owned and operated by The James Foundation. The rushing waters of Maramec Spring, the seventh largest spring in the state, once powered trip hammers and grist mills. Now, thousands of park visitors and trout fishermen find tantalizing, breathtaking beauty in its waters as it winds its way downstream. As it does with three other trout parks - Bennett Springs State park, Montauk State Park and Roaring River State Park - the Missouri Department of Conservation maintains a put-and-take trout fishery in Maramec Spring Park. MDC personnel stock the stream each evening with 2 1/4 fish per estimated fishermen for the following day. The trout fishing season in all the parks runs from March 1to October 31. The daily limit at Marmaec Spring Park is four fish. Anglers are required to carry a fishing license and a daily trout tag. Both can be purchased at the reception building at the park entrance. The James Foundation also charges a $5 per day parking fee, or an annual pass for $35. Trout have long been a part of the attractions at Maramec Spring Park. According to Spence Turner, a former fisheries research biologist with the Missouri Department of Conservation, trout were stocked at Maramec Spring as early as 1880. “The original stock came from the McCloud River in California. Eggs ere shipped un-iced by train to a hatchery in St. Joseph. There, the eggs were hatched and the resultant fry were shipped in milk cans to St. Louis by railroad. Crews were given instructions to stock a few streams on the return trip, which ended in Joplin. The Meramec River, Maramec Spring Branch, Crane Creek and Spring River were the first place to receive rainbows. Three more stockings took place between 1880 and 1890,” he said. According to Mark Benton, regional manager of the James Foundation, “Mrs. Lucy Wortham James wrote about feeding trout in Maramec Spring Branch in the early 1920’s. She reportedly stocked more rainbows in the branch in 1922. The James family never allowed any fishing above the county road crossing, now the road bridge.” Then in 1942 the MDC and the James Foundation entered into a cooperative agreement for managing the stream’s trout fishery. The agreement advanced through several stages until the establishment of Maramec Spring Park as a daily tag trout fishing area in 1958. During the early 1970’s, I conducted my graduate research at Maramec Spring. Trout fishermen told me they came to Maramec for a variety of reasons. They were drawn by the area’s outstanding beauty, the cleanliness of the park and the opportunity to enjoy the romantic history of a lifestyle gone by. The trout park’s proximity to St. Louis was another reason. In fact, more than 60 percent of the fishermen I interviewed for my study were from St. louis. Metro angler reach the park after driving an hour and a half southwestward on Interstate 44. From St. James, Maramec Spring lies 8 miles southeast on Highway 8. Taking a limit of scrappy rainbows at Maramec may be a cinch on opening day, and for a couple of months thereafter. However, as spring rains subside, the flows from the spring become crystal clear. A flurry of fast action is enjoyed by anglers at the whistle, which marks the beginning of the fishing day. Fishing success subsides quickly and anglers settle in for the day. Tout spook easily in the clear water and stealth becomes important. For a real summer time trout fishing treat, try fly fishing during the last two hours of the day at Maramec. Bug hatches are common this tine of day. Alight rod and tippet equals great fly fishing fun. Each year, millions of gallons of cold, crystal-clear spring water flow past the remains of the Maramec Iron Works. And more than a few anglers pause each year from their fishing on cool summer evenings to ponder what life must have been like for the pioneer fishermen of Maramec Spring. For more information on Maramec Spring park and trout fishing, call the park office at (573) 265-7387. Incidentally, the spelling of “Maramec” is an Anglicized version of the Indian word mirimiguoa, meaning catfish.

Big Rainbow Trout at Maramec Spring Park

Ft. Myers Snook

Fort Myers Snook Fishing Rebounds Snook are one of the premier game fish of southwest Florida. Unfortunately, a “cold kill” occurred in 2010, wiping out tens of thousands of fish in several age classes. Snook cannot survive water temperatures under 60 degrees. An especially cold winter decimated the stocks. However, snook populations rebounded quickly and the season re-opened in September of 2013. Snook have long been on my bucket list. The long, slender fish are phenomenal fighters, which many call a souped-up largemouth bass. Personally, I think they leave a largemouth in the dust. The sporty snook begin their annual move from the backwaters in March each year to the salty bays and inlets surrounding Ft. Myers. The full moon of May is the traditional kick-off for snook fishing, but I couldn’t wait. I was going in the middle of March, before the fishing crowds arrived. Because of the mile after mile of gorgeous, white sand beaches surrounding Ft. Myers, it is a prime tourist destination, even in March. And, I just happened to land there during spring break. The crowds of sun seekers grew by the day. However, most peole were there to party rather than fish, so I didn’t feel the pressure. I contacted Lee Rose, the Communications Manager of the Lee County Visitor and Convention Bureau. He hooked me up with Port Sanibel Marina and Capt. Ryan Kane. Strategically located just before the causeway leading to Sanibel Island, they were only minutes from where I stayed. Capt. Kane quickly explained that snook are primarily ambush feeders. “They like to hide just inside the mangrove tangles and lie in wait for prey,” he said. “It can be real tough getting baits where they need to be. “Skipping” baits up under the over-hanging limbs is key to catching big snook.” Most anglers use live bait for snook. “Live bait is the easiest way to catch snook,” Kane instructed. “I use live baits with most of my clients. Mullet, pinfish, croakers, or white baits, and live shrimp are common and fairly easy to acquire.” Kane’s long time experience with snook had taught him well. He constructed his own lightweight boat so he could negotiate shallow waters which lead to snook hides. His medium-heavy rods were matched with Shimano reels spooled with 30-to-50-pound braid. Leaders consisted of 30-to-50-pound Fluorcarbon. “It is best to match hook size to the bait you use,” Kane noted. “I use 1/0 to 2/0 circle hooks for greenbacks and shrimp. I go to 6/0 or 7/0 hooks for the bigger baits like pinfish and mullet.” Less than two miles from from Port Sanibel Marina Capt. Kane eased his boat into a small bay out of the stiff wind. He climbed onto the front deck of the boat and began scouting the shadows at the edge of the mangroves. “I hunt snook,” Kane said. “Sight fishing for them is as fun as it gets. I love to spot a big snook and then fool it into biting.” Minutes into his search, Kane spotted the first snook cruising in the shadows of the mangroves. “See him, Bill?” Kane asked. A long dark shadow moved, effortlessly, to the left. I felt my blood pressure increase. The excitement had begun. Kaitlin Rae, one of the manager’s of the marina, stepped to the bow. The bait skipped several times before settling up under the mangroves, a perfect cast. The snook turned to investigate. “Aaawwws” echoed from the boat as the big snook returned to the tangles. Gulls and pelicans proved to be a real problem for us while we were trying to fish. The cunning birds began to check us out when they saw the boat come to a halt. They flew around near the boat until they saw one of us make a cast. Immediately, they plunged into the shallow water and grabbed our baits. Capt. Kane would grab the rod and skillfully jerk the bait alway from the avian thieves without hooking them. Kane had considerable experience with thieving birds and had the perfect plan to distract them. He had a 30-inch long fluted tube, which he used to sling shrimp far away from the boat in the opposite direction from where we wanted to cast. it worked like a charm and allowed us enough time to cast our baits to the mangroves without being noticed by the marauding birds. Minutes later Kaitlin connected when a second snook took her bait. “They are definitely here,” Kane whispered. “Lift and reel down. You’ve got a big one, Kaitlin.” Kaitlin handled the big snook like a pro. The powerful fish made several runs before succumbing to her skills. Everyone aboard offered kudos for a job well done. Dozens of photos later, Capt. Kane rigged another bait and the hunt was on again. We spotted dozens of big snook as we slowly moved down the line of mangroves. Numerous fish darted out of the dense over to investigate the squirming baits. However, they didn’t seem intent on eating the baits. “The snook season is just beginning.” Captain Kane explained. “In the coming days and weeks, the bit will only get better.” To check out the snook fishing opportunities at Ft. Myers, Florida check in with Lee Rose, Communications manger, Lee County Visitor and Convention Bureau at: www.FortMyersSanibel.com. You can contact Capt. Ryan Kane, of Southern Instinct Charters at: SOUTHERNINSTINCT@EARTHLINK.NET and Port Sanibel Marina at: Ryan.Clark@PortSanibelMarina.com.

Bear Hunting with Taxis River Outfitters, New Brunswick, Canada

Bear Hunting in the North Woods Bill Cooper “Bill, Bill, Bill,” Dian whispered excitedly. “There’s a bear.” Dian sat on the left side of a two person stand. We were a mere 8 feet off of the ground. The stand stood 10 feet from a logging road, tucked into the dense brush. Visibility through the the thick vegetation ranged from five to 30 feet. A 20 foot wide shooting lane lay directly in front of us. A sow and two yearling cubs had walked right in on us without our hearing them. The sow was no more than 15 yards away when Dian whispered. Just as she cleared the brush line along the small road, the bruin turned and looked straight up at us in the stand. Two hundred pounds of mama bear now stood less than 15 feet from us. I could feel Dian’s arm trembling. I did not want to shoot a sow with yearlings. Even though the yearlings could survive on their own, other bears would kill them if the opportunity presented itself. As a precautionary measure, I slipped the safety off on my 30-06. Bears can cover ground rapidly and I wasn’t taking any chances. Hunting black bears in New Brunswick had been a life long dream. I read about bear hunting and brook trout fishing in the province in “Outdoor Life” magazine as a child. The opportunity to fulfill my dream presented itself when a bear hunt in New Brunswick, with Taxis River Outfitters, came up for bid at the Conservation Federation of Missouri annual conference last spring. Planning began immediately. I first contacted the outfitter, Larry Davidson, to set a date and gather information about required license, equipment needs and hunting conditions. Davidson, with a life time of experience in the north woods, perked my excitement with his descriptions of what to expect. According to him, bears were plentiful and success rates were high. A former client of Davidson’s had already filled me in on the details. Their stories matched. Dian, my wife, agreed to tag along as videographer. She expressed concerns about sitting in a tree stand while surrounded by 250,000 acres of Canadian wilderness full of bears. Leased from a timber company, Davidson’s hunting grounds are behind locked gates, offering clients the opportunity to hunt under natural conditions. We flew into Portland, Maine, a beautiful town near the coast. We took two days to cover the 8 hour drive to Boiestown, New Brunswick, the location of bear camp. Gorgeous scenery became our guide as we drove through idyllic coastal towns. Freeport sported the original L.L. Bean Store. Other quaint locales inspired artists to paint their interpretations of rugged coastlines, ship yards and panoramic views. By late afternoon, we arrived at the port town of Castine, Maine, one of the oldest towns in New England, predating the Plymouth Colony by almost a decade. Manor Inn Bed and Breakfast, a massive wooden lodge overlooking Penobscot Bay, provided the perfect setting for a moving Maine experience. With lobster on our minds, we landed at the famous Dennett’s Wharf for a huge platter of steamed clams, lobster, corn on the cob, slaw and fries. Clam chowder, consumed with the sound of waves in the background, never tasted better. Mile after mile of densely wooded hills and bogs lay before us as we headed up I-95 towards the border crossing at Holton. I dreaded the process of getting a rifle though customs, because of the numerous horror stories I had heard about the process. To my great surprise, however, customs personnel proved to be professional and friendly. The entire process of filing proper papers and paying the $25 registration fee for taking a firearm into Canada only took 15 minutes. Two hours into New Brunswick, we arrived at Taxis River Outfitters just outside Boiestown on the banks of the beautiful Taxis River. The Davidsons greeted us at the lodge and quickly had us settled into our cabin for the week. Lodge decorations set the mood for our week in camp. Abundant photos of hunters posing with their bears, mounts of giant moose and outsized Canada whitetails worked their magic on the hearts and minds of arriving hunters. I spent several sessions studying a mount of a splendidly colored, Brook Trout. It appeared just as I remembered from “Outdoor Life” magazine five decades ago. Eight other hunters arrived from Maine, New York, Vermont, Massachusetts and North Carolina. A collection of experienced bear hunters soon began to educate Dian and me about the nuances of becoming successful bear hunters. Seventy-six-year-old Bob Amaral, of Massachusetts, had taken almost 40 bears in his lifetime. He entertained camp attendees with his decades of experience. Amaral hunted with a bow. Dian chattered non stop on the way to our bear stand on the first day. I was a bit apprehensive myself, not knowing exactly what to expect. We settled into the stand the stand a little before 5 p.m. Shooting hours ended at 9:40 p.m., just as daylight began to fade. Firearms had to be unloaded and cased at that time. Davidson would not return to pick us up until 10:30 p.m., well after dark. Our first bear encounter came with the sow and two cubs at 7:15 p.m. The sow stood 15 feet away staring intently at us. Dian trembled. My heart thumped heavily as I slid the safety off on my rifle. Fortunately, the sow heard the “click” of my safety and turned back up the road the way she had come, gathered her cubs and left. Dian and I both took a few deep breaths to calm ourselves. Our first bear encounter had been up close and personal. We scanned the thick woods all the way around our stand, continuously. At 8:40 p.m. a big bear slowly lumbered from the dense brush 40 yards away and walked right to the bait sight. I eased my rifle into position. “Thats’s a big bear,” Dian whispered. I trembled in anticipation of taking my first bear. The dark, sleek animal approached the far side of the bait barrel, blocking any possibility of a shot. Minutes seemed like hours as I waited for the bear to make its way to the other side of the barrel. Finally, it presented a broad side shot. I settled the scope’s crosshairs just behind the shoulder. The bear lunged forward and disappeared into the brush. Seconds later Dian and I heard the undeniable “death moan” of my first bear. Guides Mannie Bedard and Dale Weldon skinned and butchered my bear. too, they prepared the hide for the taxidermist. Each of them patiently explained the whole process to me, an education from two very experienced North woods bear guides. Excited by the turn of events, Dian decided to hunt as well. She spent the next four afternoons, two of which pounded us with heavy rains, to no avail. The rut had kicked in and boars were roaming to establish territories and run other bears off. An exceptionally big boar circled our stand for two evenings “woofing”, but never showed itself. “I wish I could have taken a bear, but the experience of being in the wilderness on a bear stand for 5 days is one I will never forget. I will get one next year.” The Davidson’s, at Taxis River Outfitters, provided one of the most enjoyable camps Dian and I had ever experienced. And Bonnie is a superb cook. We have never eaten better in a camp situation. As if bear camp wasn’t enough, the Taxis River runs right by camp. I spent my mornings catching brook tout on my fly rod. If you want to check them out yourself go to: www.taxisriveroutfitters.com.