A Dog Named Blitz - Chapter One: "The Beginning, the End" Part One

The following is part of the blog serial "It's, It's a Dog Named Blitz." For background on this story, please click here.

The wind whipping outside rattled the old house. The clock read 4:05, too early for anybody normal, but a special time to those devoted to the hunting and fishing lifestyle. An alarm wasn’t necessary; I was up this early on my own and it was time to get going.

My bare feet hit the cold floor and helped get things pumping better than a jolt of coffee. I dressed as quietly as possible, trying to keep the silent house still. The creaky floor and staircase reiterated my need to shed some pounds, but despite the noise I was successful in creeping downstairs while the rest house remained still.

I ran out to the truck to get it started and warmed up, and came back in to scribble a note for my wife.

Honey,
Couldn’t sleep, so Blitz and I are going to the Duck Camp. I’ll be home later.
XO,
Mikey

I ran back outside and climbed into the cold rig. “You ready to go, girl?” I asked to the dog in the back seat. And with that start we departed for my farm.

The drive took a couple of hours due to a stop at my favorite coffee shop in Sauk Centre. As we finally approached the land which had brought us both so much joy, I couldn’t help but be flooded by memories of hunts that Blitz and I had enjoyed among the parcel.

I pulled off to the side of the dirt road and pulled the truck up to the site of Blitz’s first flush on the property. I left the truck running, but exited the vehicle, and donned my hunting vest. As I walked into the thicket of trees, my memory of Blitz's flush filled my eyes. She was an exuberant seven month old at the time – a darting yellow streak dashing to and fro with unabashed joy. Half hunting, and half just running her tail off for the simple pleasure of it. While not the best technique for hunting, it clearly was entertaining to watch.

Blitz had just completed a quartering move to my left and was coming around when her nose went to the ground hard. I had seen such behavior before, and usually found it reserved for bunnies and chipmunks, so needless to say my expectations were not high. But despite my doubts Blitz made a nose-down beeline for the thick cover to my right, and I haphazardly swung in behind her in case she actually was on a bird.

Through the thick cover I could see that she had moved in tight to a small clump of cover, and as she was closing in, she froze solid. Due to my nonchalance, I was completely out of position, but even with her locked up on point, I could not believe that she could be holding a bird in such poor cover. As I lollygagged to getting into a better area, a giant rooster pheasant suddenly burst from the cover that Blitz was pointing and quickly headed down the only window out of the cover available. Unfortunately that window was completely blocked buy a huge tree given my current position. Dog 1. Rooster 1. Hunter 0.

Blitz immediately emerged from the thick cover with looked up at me with an unmistakable look of incredulity on her face. One glance said all there was to say, “You have GOT to be kidding me!” We stood looking at each other for a couple of seconds, with me offering apologies and her giving me “the look” when, just like that, she headed off like a shot, looking for the next bird. That is one of the true beauties of dogs – short attention spans, and the complete inability to hold a grudge.

On to the next chapter

It's, It's a Dog Named Blitz

My first Yellow Dog was a remarkable dog named Blitz. While she was only with me for a very short time, her antics, the stories she subsequently created, and the joy (and, ultimately, the heartbreak) she brought have stuck with me.

Over the past few years, I have been thinking about all the stories I have of her, and had been toying with the idea of cobbling them together into a book. Now, before becoming critical of me, note that there are ways to self-publish in very small runs for friends and family. Hence, I have no delusions of grandeur on my writing and my long term prospects. I know where I stand.

I was further buttressed in my desire to write Blitz's story once a read Marley and Me. Frankly, I felt I had more compelling story to tell, plus Marley didn't even hunt. Hello.

Thus, I'm going to try and tell my stories via this blog. I intend on doing it a section at a time - consider it a blog version of an old radio serial if you will. I'll still post the usual blog stuff, but will intersperse the Blitz content with it. The format may not work well, but I'll try it and see.

Toward that end, I'd really appreciate your candid feedback. Feel free to leave comments, and also use the poll that I have set up on the right. I trust and appreciate the readership I have - be it long time friends and family, or folks that just happened to find this site via Google or some other random method.

Chapter One, Part One

Follow the Dog with Google Reader

I ran across Google Reader - a great utility that Google created that allows you to aggregate feeds from different websites, and view, at a glace, what is happening.

For those of us that monitor a number of different sites and blogs throughout the day, it serves as a great one-stop-shop.

You can sign up here

Don't forget to add the YellowDogPatrol.com!

It's Memorial Day, and I'm a Dick

I awoke this morning to log-in for the first time in 8 days, and was met with 1,839 emails to process.

I was going to write today about those emails in a real "woe is me," fashion, but as I was driving back home I thought about the day that it was today. Memorial Day. The one day that we take to honor our fallen; those that have paid the ultimate sacrifice.

I'm currently reading Stephen E. Amborse's book D-Day, and in it he describes how Eisenhower at the time wanted the invasion force to not be filled with veterans from fighting the Japanese. Despite the logistical challenges of using those men, there was concern that seasoned veterans, already damaged by living war up close, would be so frozen upon seeing the carnage wreaked by Hitler's Atlantic Wall that they'd not be able to depart their Higgins boats and charge across the bare beach. Only the fresh faced rookies would be ignorant enough attempt the brave and impossible acts required.

I wonder what the gallant souls that fought and died on that cold beach 55 years ago would say about my emails.

May all that have given their lives for our country rest in peace.

Furlough Finale

Today marks my last day of furlough, which is officially over at midnight tonight. As a condition of said furlough, I have been prevented from doing any kind of work whatsoever during the past week. That means no emails, no phone calls, no texts – nothing.

In looking at this period, I have a number of reflections:

• Getting to the point of being out of the office for a week without any contact of any kind about killed me last week. I was already very close to a burn out point, and the incremental work and pressure pushed me to my mental and physical limit. I was in a very, very bad place.
  
• I was finally able to completely “let go” about Monday. Since then, my time here has been absolute bliss.
  
• With 11 straight days out of work, you’d think I might get bored, and you’d be dead wrong. Among other things, I fished a ton, had meaningful conversations with my friends and wife, read two books and countless magazines, saw six movies, rode my bike, worked on websites for my Delta chapter and for the resort, played both virtual and live poker (and won at both), took multiple naps, and cooked and enjoyed a number of fabulous meals. If this is what retirement looks like, I cannot wait.
  

I know in all of this I have some lessons that I need to apply to my non-furlough life. I’m still unclear as to what exactly those lessons are, and will be thinking on it the next couple of days. I clearly need to find some balance between work and living, and that’s where I’ll focus first.

Also, all that good food and drink I’ve been having has added a couple of pounds. I’ll be working on shaving those off too.

If the ultimate goal of any vacation is to relax and rejuvenate you, this has been my best vacation ever. Hands down. With that hindsight, the fact that it cost me a week’s worth of my pay seems like a bargain.

Now, off to the lake in pursuit of last day walleyes!

Good Fishing, Better Gumbo

I headed out with Bill today to aid in his pre-fishing, and he did not disappoint. We covered a ton of this 100,000 acre lake. Bill has a beautiful new, used Ranger. It’s a lot like fishing out of your living room. It is comfortable, completely tricked out, and likely the fastest boat I’ve ever ridden in. We were up over 50 mph a couple of times today – extremely fast for a boat.

We started at Trappers and immediately found fish. We had two in the slot and a number over, but didn’t keep our slot fish as we had just started and they were in the 14”-15” range. I was holding out for those big 17”. Ah, the old bird in the hand…

We fished Little Stoney and I caught a couple bigger than 20” – nice fish. Then a quick tour to west of Goose Island, followed quickly by a run to Snake Pits where I landed a 23”. Then up to Ottertail, and just south of Two Points, where our wind proceeded to die to nothing.

We made the big run to the south side of the lake over glass water. It is incredible to run for 10-12 miles with nary a ripple. I was reminded of the time in college when dad and I were fishing Submarine and the wind died on us. He happened to have the water ski equipment in the boat, and I skied back to Big Rock – about 8 miles. Even being in good shape back then I was exhausted by the end of the haul! He got a big kick out of it.

We motored the south side, basically vertically jigging, but getting nothing. I landed a nice keeper perch just west of Pipe Island, but that was the stringer. While embarrassed with such a wimpy catch, that perch will likely come in pretty handy next lent, so I’ll take the one fish and like it.

Overall for the day I caught 6 walleyes, one small, one good keeper (that I didn’t keep) and four really nice fish over 20”.

Last day fishing is tomorrow. It has been a great vacation, and the fishing has been really outstanding. I hope to do some damage against my freezer limit and get my lovely bride to work on hers as well. We’ll be in the resort’s pontoon, which will be a far cry from Bill’s Ranger, but it is big, comfortable, has a private potty for those than need it, and a radio for the finest classic rock in northern Minnesota. Wish us luck.

By the way, the gumbo yesterday was out of the park. If my cousin knew a Yankee could cook like that, he’d likely think I’ve got some rebel blood in me somewhere. I’d tell him no, I just have a good teacher.

Leech Lake Muskie

Leech Lake is renowned nationally as perhaps the finest muskie lake within the United States, and with good reason. The lake’s habitat, structure, and geographic location create an environment that is almost perfect for the big fish. Muskie enthusiasts from throughout the country travel here in hopes of landing “the fish of ten thousand casts.”

I’ve been fishing Leech ever since I’ve been in first grade. The hours I’ve put on this water over the past thirty five years or so have to run well into the hundreds and are quickly approaching one thousand. And in all that time, with all those lines in the water, I’ve never even seen a muskie boated.

Consider that situation over. Yesterday as I was trolling a Tail Dancer on the flats outside of Rogers looking to raise a big walleye, I was slammed by my friend here. He started out putting up a massive fight, but ended up with the other treble hook in the front of his snout, and finished coming in pretty quietly. He was small by muskie standards at 26 inches, but was fun to catch nonetheless.

Big west winds and the resort’s rental pontoon boat kept my fishing options down, so I was limited to the southwest side of the lake. I boated a couple of perch and my muskie, but finally had got skunked by the walleyes. It had to happen sooner or later, and it was a good run.

The boats are all rented out this weekend, so I’m not going to be fishing today for sure. Bill comes back up tomorrow and has promised to take me out, so we’ll be running hither and yon as he conducts his pre-fishing for the big walleye tournament up here in two weeks. While there’s no guarantee we’ll catch fish, I am guaranteed that I have a nice tour of the lake as Bill’s not afraid to burn up the boat gas.

So today I’m relegated to replicating my cousin Terry’s gumbo recipe. I have a big pot, some duck and pheasant, some great andouille sausage, and the Cajun holy triumvirate of green pepper, onion, and celery. Roux work begins shortly…

Fishing, "Big Time"

I Met up with my buddy Jeff and his brother John today for another session on the lake. Huge south winds kept our options limited, but we toured the south end of the lake looking for the bite. We started at Rogers, moved up to Club 21, then Stoney. We had some bites at 21 and John landed a small northern, but it clearly was not what we were looking to get ourselves into.

John had an idea about Trader’s Bay, so around the corner we went, and still nothing could be convinced to bite. We were pondering different options and ready to make a big move across some big waves when we decided to give Little Stoney a try since we were right there. Good idea! We got bit right away and ended up finding the walleyes. I was hot – boating 4 (a 19”, 20” and 21” plus a slot fish) and had another slot fish to the boat before losing him. John did his share on two, including one slot fish. Jeff? Not so much…

We had a great time, although fishing could have been a little easier for us. Regardless, it was kind of them to trailer their boat over and take me out, and we had a lot of laughs.

Speaking of laughs, the boys will be launching their TV show later this year in October. I’ll post up time/channel details once we get closer, but in the mean time here’s a preview.



To think, I have now officially outfished both Al Lindner and Jimmy “Big Time” Miller. I gotta get me a TV show…