Keith Ellison Bawls for Muslim Killed on 9/11, and Anyone Else?

I know this is old news, but I have a point I failed to make.

Here is esteemed Minnesota congressman, barely able to compose himself, recalling the death of a Muslim man on 9/11:



I'm really curious if he wept so emotionally and bitterly for any of the 3,000 others that were killed that day.

If I was a betting man, I know where I'd put my money.

Pray for Japan

The footage coming out of Japan looks like it could have only been created on a Hollywood set.  There are a million such images.  Here is but one:



Please pray for those in Japan.  Given the state of their nuclear plant situation, their troubles may only be just beginning. 

Last Night I Dreamt of Baseball

Last night I dreamt of baseball
dreamt of the whole game complete
could smell the fresh-cut grass
felt the turf beneath my feet

Hit a screamer to the shortstop
my first time at the plate
It should have been a base hit
but the play he made was great

Hit a dying quail to right
the next time at the bat
It was ugly but effective
as I earned my first hit stat

I remember standing in the field
on the defensive side of the game
admiring the beautiful summer
Would such days ever come again?

My second hit was a liner
off of first base it careened
Alas I never hit to the right
so I knew it was a dream

Moved up to second base
on an in-the-dirt passed ball
Should have been to third on a balk
but the umpire blew the call

I argued his mistake
but it didn't matter for
the next batter put one in the gap
and on the play I easily scored

We ultimately won game
I distinctly remember the fun
of the win and my final stat line
two for four with a run

Work, stress, and nightmares
were all in full retreat
For last night I dreamt of baseball
I hope tonight is a repeat

Moose Decline in Minnesota Turning Into a Political Football

In today's StarTribune, a feature story has run about the plight on the moose in Minnesota.  Population rates are falling, and the article leads the reader to assume that "climate change" is the culprit.  The comment board accompaning the article has basically fallen along political lines, depending on one's view of the whole concept of "climate change."

The Outdoor News has a much better (and much less politically bombastic) article on the moose situation in their 2/25 edition.  A small subset of the article can be found here.  In it, you’ll find that the ratio of calves to cows has been in a 14 year decline, and is at its lowest levels since 1999.  However, over the period, pregnancy rates were fairly constant.  Baby moose are being born.  They’re not making it to adulthood.  I have my own theories as to what is driving this, and it’s not climate, but my “worldview is mal-adapeted (sic) to reality,” according to some on the board.

I think if you were to plot the rise in wolf population to the decline in calf to cow ratio, you'd have a very telling statistic.  Note, I'm not one of those "only good wolf is a dead wolf" guys.  I think it is wonderful that our population has rebounded like it has.  However, like we've seen with the deer and goose population in the state, if left unchecked, overpopulation has consequences.  Am I saying wolves are overpopulated?  Nope - I don't know enough to make that claim.  What I do know is that now there is a new threat to baby moose that was not there 10 years ago.

And that threat is NOT climate change. 

Football and Faith

Get the Kleenex ready, folks

A Dog Named Blitz - Chapter Four, "Dog Training, Sir" Part 6

For background on this serial, please click here. You can also start at the previous section


The time at the tailgate is just what both hunters and dogs needed.  While dogs took in much needed water, hunters did the same, but also passed around a thermos of hot coffee, as well as a box of convenience store doughnuts.  Stories immediately started about who did what (and who didn’t do what) over our previous hunt, and already the tales grew large.  Even though we were all just there and lived them, the stories improved with the embellishments and exaggerations. 
 
A critical part of all of this is giving each other a hard time, and my buddy JT is especially expert in this regard.  This time at the truck was typical, and he quickly moved into a grand story about some recent episode.  As his storytelling grew more animated, so did his gesturing, and in his ranting, none of us noticed that in one of his hands he was waving around a semi-stale but still luscious glazed convenience store doughnut. 
 
The only one that did notice was Blitz, fresh off her stop to the water bowl. 
 
As JT waved and continued his story, Blitz came from behind him, timed her jump perfectly to appropriately lead the delicious pasty in all the flapping, and cleanly picked the entire doughnut from the waving hand in one beautifully athletic, orchestrated move. 
 
This lead to what I can only describe as the “no, no, oh,” moment that occurred any time in which Blitz had acquired some food that she shouldn’t have.  I’d immediately run to her saying “NO,” and hoping to get to her to remove the offending morsel prior to it being devoured.  Blitz, being a speed eater, would note my impending actions and accelerate her pace, which lead to the “uh,” moment as I realized that I was too late and the forbidden food was already down the hatch.  As I moved quickly (but not quickly enough), JT went though the process of counting his digits to ensure that the dog hadn’t taken any extraneous protein in her carbohydrate-based assault.  Indeed her aim was true, and a strong pall of thanks fell over the scene: the hunters thankful for the comedic interruption to JT’s story, JT thankful for having retained all of his fingers, and of course Blitz thankful for the forbidden snack. 
 
Watered and rested, we moved to begin the next phase to our hunt.  We began pressing across a field of thin cover, on our way to a much more promising stand of switch grass in the adjacent field.  While the cover was thin, the dogs worked it hard, quartering out and back, but never showing any signs of quarry in the area. 
 
We ultimately arrived at a border area which was demarked by a barbwire fence.  One by one, we handed guns to each other and safely made our way to the other side, while dogs had the good fortune of simply running underneath the obstacle.  Assembled on the other side, we made a quick plan on our point of approach and started spreading out to cover the next field. 
 
I was taking my place in line, when I noticed that Blitz was no longer messing around with the other dogs.  I quickly looked around, and found her about 20 yards behind me, in an area that I, three other hunters, and two other dogs had just walked past.  She was there; locked completely motionless, staring at a lump of grass no bigger than the size of a backpack.  I immediately wondered if she was on point, but it was a fleeting thought.  Too much activity had passed that spot – both human and canine – for a bird to hold.  Likewise, the area was just too darned small to conceal a pheasant. 
 
“Blitz, what are you doing?” I exclaimed as I turned and headed back to her.  About two steps into my return a rooster pheasant exploded from that small patch of grass immediately in front of Blitz’s nose. 
 
At this point, everything went into slow motion for me:  The bird flushed straight up and immediately began banking to take advantage of the wind to put as much space between him us as he could.  I quickly shouldered my gun, consciously thinking the whole time, “OK, this is Blitz’s first bird.  You’re close.  Take your time and don’t mess this up.” 
 
BAMBAMBAM. 
 
 I messed it up. 
 
I executed my three shots about as quickly as my gun could mechanically process them.  I couldn’t have been any quicker on the trigger, and my heart broke as the cock made the most of his altitude and wind and headed for safety. 
 
His flight path, however, was guarded by my uncle.  The bird was now at about 30,000 feet flying at mach 2, so I wasn’t surprised when the first shot missed, but with the second shot, the bird crumpled into a heap.  With the momentum of the flight, the dead bird sailed across a deep creek to the opposite bank.  The whole time Blitz was on the bird, running on the same line as the bird’s flight, preparing for the fall so she could retrieve it.  Immediately the other guys in the hunting party generously commanded their dogs to return – this was going to be Blitz’s retrieve. 
 
The bird was a good 80 years away from our party, and with the difficulty of the creek crossing, I felt there was no way that she’d be successful, but I barked out my encouragement as she dove into the think cover on our side of the creek.  Seconds later, up reappears my yellow pup scaling up the steep opposite bank, which elicited immediate cheers and yells of encouragement by the entire group. 
 
Blitz made it to the top and headed into the cover in the general vicinity of the fallen bird.  I was yelling encouragement to her the whole time, but I still believed that her odds of making what those in the industry call a “blind retrieve” were long.  I was about to be surprised by her hunting performance for the first time, and it would repeat itself many times in our days together, as after about thirty seconds of rustling around, Blitz suddenly appeared on the far bank with her first flushed wild bird in her mouth. 
 
A huge cheer went up with the guys who were likewise surprised at the performance.  I began to call her into me for the completion of the retrieve, but as I tried to yell “Here, Blitz!” I could only get about half of it out as I was choking up.  Seeing her run at me, bird in her mouth, after executing perfectly, just got to me.  I had a clear revelation that I was a hunting dog owner, and she was a good dog.  That’s pretty much I that I could want at that moment. 
 
The exuberant pup came right up to me, released the bird without too much of a struggle, and looked up at me as if to say, “OK, boss, what’s next?!” totally obvilious to the huge step that she, I, and we had taken.   
 
*** 
 
One of the best parts of hunting for me is the time after the hunt, sitting around with the guys and a libation, replaying the day just occurred.  That night we happened to be at a small bar in Atlantic, Iowa, when my buddy Pauly cornered me at the end of the bar.  “Mikey,” he said, “I think you’re going to have a hell of a dog.”  “Thanks, Pauly,” I replied.  “I hope you’re right.” 
 
But something deep down inside me knew that he was right.  She was going to be a hell of a dog.  

Chives Restaurant, Green Bay's Finest - Kitchen Table Review

My wife and I recently had dinner at Chives Restaurant - one of Green Bay's finest.  We leveraged a gift certificate that my team had given me for Christmas, and took advantage of Chives' "kitchen table" experience. 

And what an experience it was.  

Basically chef sets you up in a corner of the kitchen (next to his cook books as you can see in the picture) and then proceeds to feed you course after course of small bites. 

For this evening, we were presented with the following: 

• An oyster trio, featuring one raw, one baked with a smoked cheese base, and one fried with a pepper sauce. 
• A plate of poached asparagus in a light lemon sauce and fresh goat cheese. 
• Freshly caught whitefish (from the chef himself!) that were poached perfectly
• An incredibly well prepared seared scallop course with parsnip puree
• A grilled chipotle beef tenderloin with an accompany of French fried blue onion
• Bananas Foster, with homemade cinnamon ice cream 

The dishes were creative yet delicious, complex yet tasty, casual yet formal, all at the same time.  The dinner could not have been any better.  And for someone like me that has never been in a professional kitchen in the middle of service (beyond what I've viewed on Hell's Kitchen), it was as much a learning experience as it was gastronomic nirvana. 

Hat's off to owner/chef J.R. and the rest of the crew.  Our chef's table experience at Chives could not have been any better.  It has our highest endorsement.

Green Bay Delta Waterfowl Event Recap

My wife and I attneded our first conservation event in our new home town, and Green Bay does it up right.  The Delta event had free beer, all you could eat chicken and ribs (which both were outstanding), and a small but friendly crowd.

We dropped some dollars to help the cause, buying more than our share of raffle tickets.  And I'm happy to say we were big winners. 

What did we win?

Let's just say it was a Hollywood ending...