A helpful hint for all you critically self-involved and color blind people out there.  It’s Christmas time.

If you haven’t noticed the huge Santa’s and extravagant retail displays or seen and heard those people ringing their bells as you entered your favorite shopping place, you must have noticed the predominance of the traditional Christmas decorator colors, red and green.  Naturally, it’s easy to become confused.  Each holiday has its own colors:  Independence Day is red, white and blue; Halloween is orange and black, St. Patrick’s Day is green and Easter is shaded in those pastel hues which are uncertain as to whether they want to be actual colors or not.

Years ago, before someone started to color code holidays, they could sneak up on you.  Decorations would come out of the boxes two or three weeks before Christmas and if you were really preoccupied with something like health concerns, a large business deal or a major political coup you could go to work one morning and find the office conspicuously deserted.  Today, however, the festive Christmas hangings go up before the Halloween promotions fall.  They all but skip Thanksgiving, which gets maybe one aisle for a couple of weeks.  There’s obviously no money in Thanksgiving – probably because of those earth tone reds, oranges and yellows…how festive is that?

There’s also a certain electricity in the air at Christmas time.  An excitement that permeates the air.  A joyous amicability toward all people, especially those from whom you may get a gift.  There’s an understanding of others and a love for all people who…  Okay, so maybe it’s the electrical fields generated by all those sickeningly happy colored little lights combined with a palpable increase in the tension of people all over the community who are worried about spending the exact same amount on each of the kids, whether or not to buy a gift for the janitor who cleans the teachers’ lounge which is used by the math instructor of your 8^th grader or if the amount of your life insurance policy covers your accumulated Christmas debt.

Whatever the method, these are all wonderful ways to tell that Christmas is near, so get in the mood.  HO! HO! HO!  Merry Christmas!  Seasons Greetings!

What?  Not that easy for you?  Maybe you could try something else the business community uses to artificially stimulate your shopping glands…  Like music.  Music is a terrific mood setter.  Perhaps you could listen to some Christmas songs.  How about some timeless Christmas classics like “Christie, the Christmas Mouse” or “It’s Christmas and I Wonder Where I Am” or perhaps the mournful, yet rockin’ “ I Won’t Be Twisting This Christmas.”  You should be able to find these and others scattered about irregularly in stores and broadcasts a few weeks before Thanksgiving.  After Thanksgiving you will likely be hard-pressed to find anything else to the point of finally searching the AM radio dial the final week before Christmas in an effort to find Casey Kasem’s irritating sing-song twang in a forty year old rerun simply to listen to some notes strung together without the use of bells…  Only to find Casey’s annual countdown of the top 100 Christmas songs of all time. (Bing Crosby’s version of “White Christmas” is #1, so you don’t have to force yourself to listen for curiosities sake.)

If none of these methods work, it’s possible you could take a minute to look at the reason for the holiday of Christmas – the true meaning behind the season.  No, it wasn’t developed by the CCC (Coalition of Card Companies) or the Brazen Alliance for Happy Hedonism Under Major Businesses United Globally (BAHHUMBUG).  Also, while some guy of Popish occupation (that was Pope Gregory, the calendar guy, but you won’t remember anyway so I won’t bore you with that info) decided the given holiday should be celebrated on the 25^th of December, he didn’t originate the true meaning of Christmas, either.

The true meaning of Christmas is found in the 2000 year old teachings of a carpenter from the province of Galilee in early Israel.  NO! It has nothing to do with the proper way of forming a dove-tail joint…you’re not really from this planet, are you?  This time of year was set aside as the time to rejoice the birth of Christ, the focus of the most influential religion the world has yet known.  The idea is to celebrate the occurrence…  Not only what it means to those who hold this faith as their own but, just as importantly, what the lessons and basic tenets of its teachings are to all people, regardless of their particular beliefs.

This, of course, is a noble and benevolent conviction based on love and charity toward everyone, not just toward the chairmen and boards of directors of the major retailers in the world.  And neither is it based on love and charity for everyone within your gift hierarchy, which is the relativity of the individual person to your personal, um, personage.  What I do mean by this is E-V-E-R-Y-O-N-E, not just those you know and like or wish to suck up to.  For example, it is not within the “true meaning of Christmas” to scream angrily and with great loudness at the 3^rd shift sub-assistant manager Super Toy Wholesale Outlet because she hasn’t had the new Ionizing Nuclear Slimy Alien Appendage Melter with true action light and sound effects, not including batteries in the store since 11:45 AM the day after Thanksgiving.  She doesn’t work in the factory making the things, she has nothing to do with the distribution or the shipping company and she didn’t sell the last one for sole purpose of keeping your already over-stimulated child from getting one for Christmas (although she probably will next year).  As a matter of fact, if she holds the true meaning of Christmas she will likely understand and forgive you for your red-faced, sociopathic outburst…  But probably not.

So stop what you’re doing – just for a few minutes – and look around you.  Put on a festive tie or pin a Christmas bell on your sweater.  Heck, you can put on a red suit and laugh a lot if it helps, but I wouldn’t get TOO carried away with the surface stuff.  Be kind to your kids and your parents and your neighbors and your co-workers.  That’s easy.  You should nice to them, anyway.  The object is to be nice to people you don’t know.  Try it!  That should put you in the TRUE Christmas spirit.

And while you’re at it, put up some of those decorator Christmas colors in your window – maybe your critically self-involved neighbor will see them and smile.

Merry Christmas.

I went shopping the other day.   I didn’t mean to…  Well, I did, I guess, but I was distracted by the task at hand and I didn’t think about what day it was.

Black Friday!

Just the name itself should warn people against leaving their homes.  I think they should give people more shopping time and move it to a Friday earlier in the month.  That way they could call it Black Friday the 13^th. The name would be more portentous, giving it an even more ominous sound.  In addition, the occurrence would drop substantially, since Friday the 13^th in November doesn’t occur very often.

Had I remembered it was “The Purge”[i] shopping day, I’d have left the house with body armor and a firearm of some sort.  Actually, the last time I left the house that early in the morning, I was going hunting.  And, in retrospect, I now feel bad that I was shooting at things that didn’t treat me near as poorly as Black Friday shoppers…  Don’t follow that line of thought.  I have, and it doesn’t lead anywhere good, trust me.

Why do we do these things?  Shopping like barbarians, not hunting like barbarians, I mean.  I’ll address that at another time.  Granted, IF we happen to be early enough, we can buy a 90 inch high definition TV for $139.00 or a year’s supply of aromatic (?) candles for $7.50.  Still, is that enough to surrender our humanity?  Yeah, stupid question, I know.  Still, people do it year after year.  I’ve heard families call it a “tradition”.  Many of them spend time on Thanksgiving Day gathering together, celebrating their appreciation for all they have and then, after a wonderful meal is finished and everything is put away, they strategically plan how to attack the participating retail establishments in order to defeat any other shoppers who DARE to capture the best deals!  You know, the things they were thankful for yesterday.

Okay, that may sound a bit “military” in nature, but the metaphor is there to relate the aggression many people carry into the endeavor.  Actually, comparing the approach to a military action is unfair.  No self-respecting modern military organization would consider fielding such an undisciplined group of soldiers.

All the same, people who use this event as an excuse to get out and jump start their Christmas shopping are probably doing themselves, as well as retail establishments,  a favor – even while doing the rest of us a disservice.  They are playing PAWN to the Capitalist Dogs!  They’re assisting the bourgeoisie institutions to keep the common people DOWN!  They are simply…

Sorry.  I think I was channeling Groucho Marx for a moment…or maybe John Lennon (or Lenin), I’m not sure.  Where was I?

Oh, yes, the disservice!  Many of us have family members who have to work early in the morning, forcing us to cut our day of giving thanks back to an early afternoon of celebration so Uncle Mike can get to bed ‘cause he has to be at work at 3 AM.   And, because we have to do a midday dinner instead of supper, we have to get up and start cooking instead of taking those few more lovely minutes of sleep we look forward to at holidays.  Can’t go to Grandma’s for the weekend because Sally has to work – NOBODY gets THIS weekend off!  Nope!  No family game-time this evening folks, but it’s okay because we can save ourselves a couple of bucks in the morning.  That is, if you practiced your blocking, elbowing and tripping techniques.  So, by all means, let’s reward those greedy merchandisers for messing up our holiday just so they can get the money they were likely to get anyway!

Now that I’ve taken it to the ACR’s (American Capitalist Retailers), I need to buttonhole the cause of the problem; the ROUS’s…  No, that’s a different acronym[ii].  The situation is caused by the GASP (Greedy As Sh…, no, Greedy American Shopping Public).

Yes, WE did it!  WE caused the problem in the first place.  Technically, a small percentage of the shopping public caused the problem by falling for the advertising propaganda and rushing to the store on the whim of some kid with a Bachelor’s in Marketing and a burning desire for a corner office.  He got a promotion and you got sore feet from standing in line and a loose incisor from a feisty old lady in the electronics department.  The worst part is, since a portion of Americans took their whole Christmas shopping fund to the store on ONE DAY, the business community said, “Hey!  That’s pretty good!  Let’s stop now.”

Okay, yeah.  I was just seeing if you were paying attention.  What they did is continue to urge you to overspend your holiday budget.  This must have worked on some people, because next years new kid with the Bachelors of Marketing, in an attempt to show his worth and try for his very own corner office, came up with the amazing suggestion of increasing the amount of the sales and starting them earlier.  As the years went by, the hours got earlier, the “door buster” deals got better and the shoppers got more aggressive.

Shall I go on?  I thought not.

In the end, we owe this blemish on American culture to – American culture.  But, in the end, who do you think caused the problem?  These are the same people that brought you midnight infomercials and ESPN Classic.

Although sports re-runs make Gilligan’s Island look a lot better.

[i] For those of you who are unfamiliar with this riveting piece of cinema, the plot is based upon a 12 hour period when all crime is legal.  The result, of course, is that many people lose all civility – much as they do on Black Friday.  As a footnote to a footnote, it all sounds kind of like an old original “Star Trek” episode (The Return of the Archons), and I apologize for knowing that.

[ii] This is from an actually good piece of cinema, but doesn’t directly apply.  Look it up.

There are two types of hunters who make use of dogs: Good ones and bad ones.  Now, you may think this is quite a generalization, and it is, but it’s as good a place to start as any.

The good hunter, once he reaches a certain level of hunting theory, will feel the need for a dog to help in the retrieval of downed birds.  This helps to satisfy the ethical desire to harvest the birds shot and to not allow crippled birds to suffer.

The bad hunter, once he reaches the realization that he has difficulty finding upland game birds in a cage at the zoo, will feel the need for a dog to point and flush birds for him to fire upon.  From experience, I can say that hunters in this class rarely need the dog as a retriever…at least not at first.

A good retriever will also be an invaluable asset to waterfowl hunters – usually dry waterfowl hunters.  This is largely due to the fact that no matter how smart a dog is, he still isn’t smart enough to say, “It’s 37 degrees out here!  I’m not goin’ in that water!  Are you NUTS?!?”  This may be because they can’t understand the concept of temperature, I don’t know.

There are many types of dogs used for many types of hunting.  We’re mostly concerned with dogs that fall into the category of gun dogs and hounds.  Of course, a dog that tends to fall into anything is probably not a good choice, but I digress.

History tells us the first hunting dogs were the hounds.  These dogs are most often seen in action on the movie screen tracking criminals and treeing bears.  As with most registered breeds today, each species of hound was bred for a specific purpose.  Bloodhounds, for example, are famous for their scent-tracking abilities.  The dachshund, a German name meaning “badger-hound”, was originally bred to track badgers into their dens; a dangerous occupation if you know anything about badgers.  The dachshund should not be confused, however, with the wiener-dog, which is a breed used solely to guard the grounds at the Oscar Meyer factory…maybe.  The greyhound is also a dog bred for special purpose.  These long and lean canines were designed to track and run game to ground as well as carrying large numbers of people on extended highway journeys.

My favorite dog of this group is the Norwegian Elkhound; probably the oldest line in the hound class.  Skeletal remains of these dogs have been found buried with their Viking masters in sites over 5000 years old.  It’s just a guess, but I would think that, no matter how devoted the dog was, this was not his idea.

Now, the Norwegian Elkhound can be used to hunt other things besides the Norwegian Elk, which is not really an elk, as we know it, but a moose…a Norwegian moose.  It’s worth wondering what brought a dog like this to America – after all, we have no Norwegian moose here.  Oh, there are some moose in northern Minnesota with Norwegian accents, but that was picked up from the residents.

The Norwegian Moosehound, er, Elkhound, is actually a general-purpose dog, useful for both tracking and hunting because it tracks by both smell and sight.  Although I’m not really sure what this means, I assume the dog looks for things like tracks, broken twigs or bent blades of grass, old cigarette butts, etc.

The category of dogs which receives the most attention today are the gun dogs, both in single shot and repeater.  HA!  Just kidding!  I meant pointers and retrievers; dogs specially bred to help the modern hunter.  This group of dogs can be traced back to the spaniel, possibly the first pointer.  All other gun dogs are believed to have been bred from the spaniel.

A pointer, as the name implies, will locate game and stand, pointing to the position of the prey.  These dogs are also bred to flush birds from cover on command.  This allows the hunter to find the optimum point of fire.  That’s assuming the birds will fly in the direction the hunter thinks they will fly, which they won’t because birds, while they do have “bird-brains”, still have eyes and can see a hunter standing with a 3 ½ inch magnum at the ready, prepared to blast artistic patterns in the molecular structure of the surrounding atmosphere.

Should the hunter find it possible to down the bird in his quest for perfect pattern placement, also known as “accuracy”, he must collect the prey.  A good retriever is an invaluable asset to this hunter – meaning one who can shoot.  The retriever will find the bird and return it to its master.  If the bird is wounded, the dog will track and find the fowl (usually a pheasant, from my experience) and, again, return it to the hunter.  Ideally, the bird should be intact; that is, the dog shouldn’t get his share until later.

There are many breeds of dogs you can use for hunting.  You may have a mixed breed which you thought was a mutt, but would make an excellent hunting dog.  This is unlikely, but then you may be struck by lightning on the golf course, too.  Usually when you take the family dog to the field, he will immediately jump from the vehicle to excitedly stretch his muscles and explore somewhat… At least enough to flush every bird of any kind from the surrounding section of land.  It’s kinda’ like taking one of the kids along.  In some cases this can be remedied by leaving the mutt at home.

Your best bet, if you have a serious desire to clean fowl, is to acquire a dog bred for one or more of the purposes we have already discussed; any of a group of labradors, retrievers, setters, pointers, spaniels or poodles.

“What?” you say.  “Poodles?”

Yes, poodles were originally bred to be retrievers.  Actually, I understand they made very good hunting dogs until someone began the practice of giving them those lacey little pansy haircuts, after which they lost all of their dog self-esteem and allowed bows to be put in their tails and became wimpy canines.  You may want to try to correct this situation by turning the poodle back into a hunting dog, if you feel you can stand listening to the other guys laughing at you during the process.

Anyway, any of these breeds or some combinations of them can be excellent bird dogs.  Also, I understand there are new types of dogs being bred every day.  Some of these may become the hunting dogs of the future:

“FOR SALE: Reconnaissance retriever puppies.  Scientifically bred to scout an area and report the location of specific bird species.  Will flush and retrieve to military commands.  Can be used to direct artillery fire.  No training required.  Olive drab in color, camo pattern.  AKC registered.”

“Must be a sissy if you can make a bed like that!”

“You’re supposed to be a guy.  Aren’t you embarrassed?”

“You’re gonna sleep in there again in a couple a’ hours.  Why do ya’ need to make it?”

“Did you learn that in home-ec?”

Just a tip…  Don’t go to a retreat with a bunch of young guys.  Especially if they’re jocks’.  Excuse me; sports enthusiasts.

But yeah, I can make a bed.  Yep.  You can bounce a quarter off of that bed.  That could be sissy material in high school, but I seem to remember they taught me how to properly make a military corner on a bed the same week they gave me an assault weapon and started teaching me self defense and the general art of killing people (they teach the fine art of killing people in the advanced special forces training and those guys don’t care if you can make your bed), so…  You were saying what?

Actually, I accidentally saw a segment on one of those daytime talk (talk, talk, Talk, TALK) shows about a new method to make your bed so it would be easy to remake in the morning.  It was NEW!  It was amazingly INOVATIVE!  It was… actually nothing your mother shouldn’t have taught you.  And she probably did; you just didn’t pay attention.  What she attempted to teach you is often called a “hospital corner” or, as mentioned, a “military corner”; a method of tightly tucking the top sheet under the bottom corners of the mattress to help it resist movement during normal nocturnal tossing and turning. Of course, you can also get the sheet to come out in other ways that are NOT normal tossing and turning, but I’m pretty sure your mother wouldn’t tell you about that.

So, what makes it NEW?  What makes it something they can call their own fresh idea and throw it out there as a fresh segment on a (freshly) informative TV show?

Two reasons.  First, the technique used was developed by someone long ago and is not owned by any one particular person.  In other words, it is what is called “public domain,” meaning it belongs to everyone.  More specifically, because of this fact, no one person or company can make money from it’s’ use.  If they could, the network lawyers would have refused to air the show and I wouldn’t have seen the piece in the first place and you would have been saved from reading this.

Secondly, you never paid attention when your mother showed you how to perform this intricate (not really) task, so you watched the television, enthralled with the newly found skills you now own.  If I remember correctly, the person who demonstrated the technique was a male-type-guy.  Don’t know if he was in the military or not – maybe he was a maid at a hotel…excuse me, valet, or manservant or…manmaid.  Whatever.  Either way, his orientation is not at question, not important and, furthermore, not any of our business!

So, really.  Why is it these people can pull out these old gems and serve them up as their own?  It’s because we don’t collectively attack them as frauds, slackers and/or idiots.  Or combinations of the same, depending on whether they lied about it, failed to do the research or just thought they were the first to discover electricity when they hit the light switch.

And, sadly, it’s because we don’t know how to do things for ourselves.  Let’s face it, we live in the same society that figures we don’t know how to go to the grocery store or read a cookbook so they sell us a meal on the world-wide-web.  We then receive a shipping carton from the UPS guy including “fresh produce and meats” and complete with step-by-step instructions…kinda’ like one of those model kits you put together when you were a kid.  And then we complain about box wines.  The same society to invent the motion activated paper towel dispenser so we don’t have to manually push that physically demanding lever.  The problem with this is you spend a great deal of time waving at the towel dispenser before you realize it’s an old fashioned pull-out model.

Now, to be fair, part of this is not a new society problem, but an old one, such as the adolescent comments at the beginning of the page.  That part of societal development used peer pressure as one of its tools to interject and strengthen what were then gender norms… You know, they bullied the other kids.  Still, what these kids learned was that these menial tasks were for girls.  Happily, this is not a view to which our current culture subscribes.  Now days we are under the impression that in order to be successful we have to pay for these tasks to be done by someone else.  If this is true, then it follows that anyone who hopes to be successful in the future need not bother to learn these skills because one day, someone else will do these things for you.

BULL!  Make your damn bed.  Learn how to boil some pasta, for heaven’s sake.  Don’t know how?  Look it up on the computer; it’s a marvelous resource.  If you can learn how to construct a nuclear weapon on the internet, you can certainly find out how to complete a small household chore.  Besides, the theory is the easy part of the nuclear weapon thing.  Acquisition of that pesky radioactive material is the hard part!  But, anyway, do some toil aimed at self-sufficiency.  You’ll feel better about yourself and, as an added benefit, you’ll put more steps on your Fitbit.  As an exercise, pretend you live all by yourself with no one around for miles and you have to do everything for yourself.

Trust me, if anyone finds out you’ve been looking at that nuclear weapon information, you’ll likely have to get used to it.

Another election is approaching.  It’s the time of year we are inundated by obnoxious media advertising.  I’m not referring to politicians… they’re obnoxious all the time.  I’m talking about the new car ads in which every automobile manufacturer, including some which have been out of business for years, tout their new model year designs as the ultimate in vehicle production and you’ll never want to buy another car, ever, so long as you live until maybe next year when they come out with an even better design.  Some of them may actually believe it themselves.  You’d think they had received divine blueprints with measurements in cubits, or their metric equivalents.

          But let’s be honest – these trapezoid transportation tins (sorry) have come a very long way since the first Model T rolled off the assembly line, which was a long time ago; before the alphabet was even placed in the current order because the Model T was followed by the Model A, but that’s another story, I think.  Since that time many advancements have been made in aerodynamics, suspension, automotive electronics, manufacturing efficiency and, most important from the auto company’s point of view, financing.

          Take the shape of cars, for example.  The first motorized vehicles were highly angular, squared off boxes – basically, they were what they were called – a horseless carriage.  And if you drove one, you’d know what they meant.  These first autos would go from 0 to 20 in maybe 4 minutes.  NO horses at all.  You couldn’t squeal the tires or jump speed bumps or generate high insurance rates or anything.  Anyway, once they advanced to better steel working technology the cars began to grow more rounded… and then they got squared and angular again, and then rounded, and then…  Well, I guess the styling advancements didn’t really go anywhere, but the vehicles have become lower to the ground and more aerodynamically friendly.  This is achieved by placing a model of the vehicle in a tunnel and blowing large amounts of air at it.  Then they just chop off the corners that don’t act dynamic.  It’s an intense and highly scientific thing, but it helps cars become more fuel efficient, better handling, quieter and have 1/3 less fat.

          Another very visible change is color.  Henry Ford first said about his pioneer, mass-produced automobile that it was available in any color, “as long as it was black.”  With advances in pigmentation, chemical bases and polymer coats, cars today can be purchased with solid or metallic colors in a plain blue to a radiant teal or a pearl opalescent white or any color in between.  Except black.  I don’t know if you can get just plain black anymore.

          Which brings us to the personalized part of the car; the part which makes your vehicle different from every other car in the country… the options.  The first production automobiles had very limited options available.  Basically you had the option of buying one or not.  Eventually the manufacturers began to offer certain choices when you purchased one of their cars.  At first it was simple things, like, do you want a top or not?  Do you want a few seats or a whole bunch?  Do you want regular or decaf?  Today you can choose from a cornucopia (this is a word I found in a Pilgrim dictionary.  It means “a lot”) of choices from color and trim to suspension packages and satellite link road service systems.  This last item is a real option on certain up-scale models (READ: expensive cars).  If you signal that you have experienced a breakdown or need emergency services, a control center receives your exact location via satellites in geosynchronous orbit.  Then they laugh heartily because their primary job is remotely opening doors for morons who lock their keys in the car.  [alt.:  because their primary job is dealing with multi-gazillion dollar equipment and they’re not really concerned with your $40,000 car.  Still, they will call someone and have assistance on its way to you within 20 minutes… 48 hours, tops.]

          Some options offered over the years have disappeared, like the swiveling drivers’ seat which made it easier for the operator to hit their knees on the steering wheel, or the steering coordinated headlights which shone in the direction the vehicle was turned… such as the eyes of the oncoming driver.  These were not bad options, just not government mandated, not very popular or, like the am/fm 8-track stereo with 29 channel citizens band radio, not popular for very long.  The really popular options, such as the radio or power assisted disc brakes replacing regular hydraulic drum brakes, eventually became standard features.  The manufacturers keep notes on these things and if, over a period of several years the public orders, say, 92% of all cars with am/fm stereo valve stems, it makes good business sense to offer this as a standard feature thereby lowering the overall cost due to volume sales and only torquing off the 8% of the people who wanted the car without the am/fm stereo valve stems who now have to pay more for the vehicle than they originally planned, but less than they would have had to had they added this option before it was a standard feature…  See?

          Another mass production sales technique the automobile companies use to reduce the price to you, the victim, er, consumer, is to offer option “packages.”  This works in much the same way as making items “standard features.”  If most of the cars ordered have air conditioning, power windows, power door locks and little buttons in the glove compartment to open the trunk accidentally while you’re nervously trying to locate your vehicle registration and proof of insurance, then the people in the statistical note department at Standard Autos will recommend that all these items be included in an option package.  In this way, these options will cost you only $1,868.47 instead of the total individual price of $1,876.18, thereby resulting in a substantial savings and helping to individualize your car with options for less money.  Of course, that makes your individualized car pretty much the same as everyone else’s and you’ll have to put one of those antennae decorations on it to find it in the parking lot.

          Finally, the major breakthrough in automotive technology is in the area of financing.  This is due to minor adjustments in banking practices and computerization and huge advances in automobile pricing.  Let’s face it; at $50,000 most people wouldn’t have a new car if they couldn’t stretch the payments out over a little longer time frame… like the Jurassic Period.

          So park an older car next to a shiny new model with swoopy lines and ergonomic design, scratch resistant paint and high fuel efficiency, state of the art safety features and a sound-deadening passenger compartment.  Compare the two.

          What do you see?

          I see that one of these cars is paid for and the other soaks up most of my future retirement funds.

             I have recently returned from a bike trip with my friend, Super Slab Steve.  For some reason, unknown to most bikers, Steve likes to ride the interstate.  He likes the four-lanes; the big concrete ribbons that can take you where you want to go quickly without the useless bother of actually seeing anything.  I knew this going into the trip, but sometimes friendship and a short ride window cause you to do some strange things.

              “How about a ride to Hannibal, Missouri, Steve?  We have 3-4 days and I always wanted to visit Mark Twain’s beginnings; hometown of Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn.  I thought we could take the direct route down and meander back along the Great River Road.  What do you say?”

              “Sure,” says Steve.  This is what Steve always says.  Steve’s agreeable until he sees curves.

              I took off from central South Dakota on a Monday morning and maximized my time by taking I-29 at a south-east angle before cutting over to a paved side road by-passing construction and the interstate.  I rejoined I-29 before Sioux Falls for the diagonal trip to Council Bluffs where I picked up Steve.

              After a quick planning lunch we headed out, again on I-29 South toward St. Joseph, MO.  While a trip on the interstate is, well, a trip on the interstate, we did experience a short rain delay when we stopped for gas in Mound City, MO and found the whole town was out of power because of a brief but apparently harsh thunderstorm.  Sadly, the young fellow at the helm of the fuel stop we chose was new and would not sell us a cup of coffee while we were waiting for power to return:  no computer, no sale.  Thanks to the technology of the day, I was able to establish that nearby towns had NO power difficulties.  Without the deterrent of a neighborly cup of coffee, Steve and I checked Mound City, MO off of our list of places to stop and rode to the next town where we took our break, filled gas, and went on our way.

              It should be noted at this gas stop that I ride an old, carbureted 2004 Kawasaki Vulcan Classic with a bullet-proof shaft drive (positive attribute) and a dinky gas tank (negative attribute.)  While this configuration may hamper travel speed due to frequent stops, it’s excellent for reliability and seeing the country-side.  Steve straddles a fuel injected 2002 Harley-Davidson Road King with obligatory belt drive, nearly as reliable and hardly as thirsty.  We have logged many miles together on this combination of steel steeds and likely will turn many more.

              At St. Joseph we parted from I-29 to take US-36 East, still a four-lane but at least not the interstate.  At Chillicothe, MO we refueled and ended our day at a convenient motel next to our fuel stop.  A comfortable room, an in house restaurant and pub combined to end our first day in fine style.

              Day two began with a fruitless search for a local breakfast restaurant, which led us to the highway and the next town.  This murderous delay of my morning coffee was a lucky turn and one of the gems of the trip.  Off the road in Brookfield, MO we found the Simply Country Café.  We were treated to friendly service, good coffee and wonderful food.  After an extended break, we again hit the eastbound road, stopping only for fuel on our way to Hannibal.  A quick informational break at a visitor center and we were off to the old part of town and Samuel Clemens’ boyhood home.

              ‘Charming’ is the most definitive word to use for this part of the Hannibal experience.  We spent several hours in the historic section of what was once a primary part of town, close to the lifeline of the mighty Mississippi.  The original structure of the Clemens’ house and those of neighboring buildings have been kept in original condition to offer a more complete picture of the childhood that sourced the stories of Americana many of us grew to know.  The scene makes it easy to visualize Tom Sawyer whitewashing the fence or Huck Finn pushing a homemade raft into the current.  After wandering the neighborhood, museums and attractions, we stopped for a quick bite and headed for the return portion of the trip: the Great River Road.

              Now, what I’ve come to find about the Great River Road in my brief and passing research on the subject, is that there really isn’t one.  Well, there IS, but there isn’t ONE.  The Great River road is, much like the Lincoln Highway or Route 66, an amalgamation of connecting roads which change as the roads and conditions of those roads change.  In addition to its constant change, the GRR is not one collection of roads, but TWO – one on each side of the river.  For those of you who like everything planned in a concrete and laid out manner, like Steve, for instance, this makes for a difficult, stressful trip.  For you other adventurers who carry your tent and sleeping bag on every trip and use your GPS only when you want to find out where in the heck it is you’ve lost yourself to – such as myself – it’s an escape to long for.

              Since my ability to find and hold these trails has proven itself repeatedly in the past, Steve takes little offense to allowing me to birddog our track.  His dislike of the curves is normally tempered by the scenery.  My plan, sketchy as it was, was to access the scenery quickly, thereby distracting Steve from his inherent anxiety at following small, winding roads with nothing to look at.  As near as I can tell, this causes his mind to wander to the end of “Easy Rider” at which time he wants to make a break for wide concrete and greater population density.

              With this in mind, and knowing that in an effort to promote the distribution of your tourism dollars, most of the states sharing the Mississippi as a border place signs which, while not always completely up-to-date, offer an excellent guide to the GRR.  Using this information as a template, we headed north from Hannibal and I followed the first sign that promised to guide us to the Great River Road…and after a quarter mile we encountered a sign that informed us that this portion of the road was closed ahead due to construction.  The fix was simple: turn around and head further north to the next access point.  Sadly, before we reached the next sign, Steve had to stop to plug in his phone and expressed his apprehension.

              “Maybe we could head northeast to Des Moines,” he offered. “There are a couple good brewpubs there.”  He was offering alternatives and falling back on the familiar, the comfortable. 

              Looking at the surrounding countryside and imagining the level, straight, uneventful ride back through Iowa and Eastern South Dakota, my enthusiasm faltered a bit.  Still, we had time to ride only a small portion of just one side of the river and the dullness of the return was going to have to happen eventually.

              “Sounds like a plan,” I agreed, “Any ideas?”

              “Well, I don’t really know how to get there from here.  You got your map?”

              “Steve,” I smiled.  “Saddle up and follow me.”  It’s good to be appreciated for something.

              From this point we snaked our way across the map past Mt. Pleasant, IA, the home of the first woman in America to practice law, west through Ottumwa, most importantly, home of fictional character “Radar” O’Reilly and northwest past the beautiful Dutch community of Pella and into Des Moines.  During State Fair week! 

              Distancing ourselves from the fairgrounds we found a motel which still had rooms, primarily because it was located off an interstate exit that was under construction.  This issue didn’t bother us much since we were out to ride and we were tired.  We checked in, dropped our gear and made our way to the brewery I can’t remember.  An excellent meal and a few good micro-brews took the edge off of my disappointment at missing out on the Great River Road experience.  Steve has his own talents and, from my experience, knowing and finding a good Brewpub is a much underappreciated skill.  We retired to our room for a recap of the days’ events and some needed rest.

              The final day of our trip found us at the local Cracker Barrel for breakfast and a beautiful day for a ride home…even if it was on the interstate.  I stopped at Steve’s house for a cup of coffee and then followed a slow, circuitous road home.  

              Pondering and planning my solo Great River Road trip the whole way.

My dad called me on the phone the other day.  Do I want to go deer hunting this year?  Sure…but I thought I missed the application deadline.  After all, there’s no snow on the ground anymore – I was sure the last day to file was long past.  I never even think of putting in for a tag until at least 2 or 3 weeks after the last day.  No, says my dad, we’ve still got a week.  Sounds great, said I…Maybe I should go get a basic hunting license?!

I enjoy hunting, probably because it’s something I do with my Dad.  More than that, I enjoy the outdoor activity.  Still, it’s something I plan for about as much as an appendectomy.  Also, unlike pheasant season, deer hunting is not something you can write in ink on your calendar since your application may not be drawn.  Then you’ve got a weekend set aside for nothing and you’ll probably wind up doing chores or going shopping.  Of course, you could just not mention the fact that you didn’t draw a tag and take the weekend to go out and play cards with the guys.  But then, now that I’ve mentioned it and your wife may have seen it, I would advise against that plan.  Sorry.

I usually give the meat to other family members since I don’t have much use for the venison.  Neither my wife nor children care for it, commenting it tastes similar to “Goodyear” steak no matter how I prepare it.  I don’t think this is true, but then I have never sampled or prepared “Goodyear” steak before.  Maybe it’s something my wife makes when I’m gone hunting.

Since I don’t use the deer myself it would be useful to employ a recently popular fishing method, but I don’t think it would transfer well to hunting.  After all, there are some vital differences between “catch and release” and “shoot and release”.  Perhaps tranquilizer guns could be used.  The hunter could have his picture taken with the incapacitated deer as proof of a successful hunt after which the unharmed deer could stagger off with a glassy look in its eyes.  Of course, this wouldn’t do anything for the control of deer populations and it could cause a previously unheard of wildlife drug problem with deer standing around waiting to be shot.  Maybe somebody could work on that.

Anyway, I generally have pretty good luck in drawing a deer license.  I’m sure the fact that I don’t apply in the years that I wouldn’t get one is a factor.  In addition, my application is always for the most remote areas on the map.  These areas are sometimes so remote that you can’t even find them except on the map.  Should this strategy continue to be successful, we will receive our tags and preparations can begin.

The first thing is to do the fall check on the rifle, which can be found in the gun cabinet where I placed it after the last time I went hunting – three years ago.  The firearm is not loaded.  I always unload it at least three times before I bring it in the house, as much to keep a loaded weapon from an irate spouse as to have guns and ammo locked away from the kids.  I find this practice can settle the mind a great deal when your wife finds out you bought a different boat trailer instead of a new dishwasher.

At any rate, the clip is removed and the chamber is empty – except for the dirt, grit and residue left there from the last outing.  Now is the time when it occurs to me that I haven’t cleaned the rifle since before the last time I sighted it in for deer hunting.  Now is when I remember that I told myself last time I would clean the rifle when I got home from hunting.  Now is also when I tell myself that I’m going to clean the rifle as soon as I get home from…you see where this is going, don’t you?

Once the firearm is cleaned and prepared for sighting-in, it’s necessary to decide which ammunition to use.  You may find some half-shot boxes left over from past hunting excursions – some of which may actually fit modern firearms.  It’s a good idea to use this ammo for something other than big game hunting.  While it’s nice to have old ammunition as an excuse, er, reason for not being totally successful in your hunt, it’s not worth the stress of a misfire while standing 50 yards away from that buck no one has ever shot ‘cause it was so big they thought it was an elk.

After you have chosen your ammunition, you’re ready to sight in your rifle.  Most hunters use 100 yards as a target distance when sighting for deer.  By use of some little known neo-algebraic formula, this same 100 yards is often recalculated to equal anywhere from 250 to 600 yards after the rifle is fired at an actual deer.  I believe this is the same formula used by politicians at election time when they tell us how much they’ve done for us and how much money they’ve saved us.

When sighting in your rifle you should use a seated bench rest position, if possible.  Obviously you won’t be able to fire from these ideal conditions in the field, but this will allow you to adjust your firearm to its greatest accuracy.  Also, you will be certain that it’s not your rifles’ fault when you can’t hit a 300-year-old oak tree at 50 yards.

Since wild game is not aware that it is supposed to appear at precisely 100 yards from a given hunter, it is a good ides to understand the principals of windage and projectile drop for your particular rifle and cartridge.  Even if you memorize the statistics tables it’s still necessary, in the field, to determine your distance from the target.  Some people have great difficulty with this task.  If you think the average automobile is 50 feet long or the distance between Tucson and Tuscaloosa is a spelling error, perhaps you should consider acquiring a focal range finder.  This item, which works on the same principle as binoculars, will tell you the distance to the point of focus.  Of course, by the time you dig out your range finder, set your focus, check your distance and raise your rifle, the deer will be gone and the other wilderness creatures will be standing in a rough semi-circle, staring, wondering what the heck it is you’re trying to do, anyhow?!  Let’s face it; this would look rather foolish if any other hunters saw you.

There are other technological advances, which are designed to assist the hunter.  The laser sight is one such invention, but laser light tends to drop less in 400 yards than the average metal projectile so distance is still a factor.  Your long range shooting may not improve with such a system, but your outfit will really look impressive to other hunters – some of whom can hit a prairie dog at 400 yards in a stiff wind without ap scope.

For those of us who still have trouble, perhaps further advances are warranted.  Maybe something in the line of a radar-based, deer-identifying mine system.  Or tactical nuclear hunting rounds for your 30-06.  Just think…not only would you get your game without a direct hit but the venison would already be cooked and you’d have cleaned out the shelterbelt at the same time.

I sat near a guy at the bar the other day…  And yes, considering my orientation that’s not optimum positioning, but all I was after was a beer, so there’s that.  Anyway, it was a common, national brand BWWing place and the guy ordered wings with the feature sauce which, I can only imagine, surprised him by its, um… veracity.

Now, he consumed them in a manly manner.  And by this I mean he was sweating profusely and refused to accept any soothing fluids or suggestions, choosing rather to suffer in macho muteness rather than allow others (this primarily means “pretty young women”) to see him exhibit any weakness.  This is almost always a poor approach; mostly because it doesn’t work.  Instead of showing an attractive machismo it simply spotlights a pathetic idiocy…  But then, those terms are basically synonymic; you know…the same.

As interesting as this episode was, in a hilarious sort of way, it set me to thinking… yeah, don’t make fun of that.  If it weren’t for my thinking and putting this crap through a keyboard, you would revert to making fun of handicapped people and geeks, which now days is, for the first, politically incorrect and for the second, not a good idea since it will result in you never again owning a working computer.  Anyway, it got me to thinking about why.   As in, why would anyone add battery acid to their tortilla chips and decide, “Hey, that’s pretty good!”  So, since you didn’t research this stuff and send me an email to fill me in, I determined to ferret out this information.

The origins of the use of excessive spice application are kind of muddled, at least in the easily accessible information found on the internet.  Granted, there could be some highly classified material in a highly secure database that would be in simple 12 keystroke reach of a fourteen year old digital wizard, but I can’t think of any good reason to keep this information from the public at large.  We’re already stupid enough as it is and I can’t imagine any weaponizable reason not to tell the public why some ancient civilization chose to give themselves mouth blisters.  What I DO believe is that academia simply hasn’t found the answer because, unlike the discovery of the Ark of the Covenant, it wouldn’t make a good movie (hash tag, Indiana Jones).

What I DID find, however, was a combination of solid scientific discovery and educated guesswork.  Basically, the scientific community is kind of sold on the idea that the use of spices was due to the need to preserve food, since very few prehistoric cultures had iceboxes, refrigerators or freeze-drying technology.  The thought is that early civilizations found that food which was treated with certain herbs would inhibit bacterial growth and remain palatable for longer periods.

Okay, while they didn’t really know anything about bacterial growth, they did know that, as the food aged, some of it got to tasting really sketchy.  If you treated the foodstuffs with peppers, salts maybe some herbs you hadn’t smoked last night, it got rid of the questionable taste and even made the meal more interesting – kind of.  Eventually, someone noticed that fewer people were dropping dead from gastrointestinal issues… or whatever they called it at the time.  But then again, maybe they just didn’t have many choices in what to eat:

”We’ve got these shell-things we dug out of the sand by the water.  Just pry it apart with a sharp rock and swallow this snot-stuff inside.  Try it!”

“Uh, no, that’s okay.  I’ll just eat these green things that burn off the inside skin in my mouth and make my teeth soft.  I’m good…”

Modern scientific research finds that there actually is some anti-bacterial benefit to using many of the culinary additions cultures have derived over the years.  Physically, there are proven anti-obesity, anti-inflammatory, anti-oxidant and anti-carcinogenic benefits resulting from the use of many spices, particularly some of the hot ones.  There is also a verified correlation as an aid against pregnancy.  I think, however, that has more to do with an increase in eye-watering halitosis than an actual method of contraception.  Just a guess on my part.

While science hasn’t unearthed the exact reason humans began incorporating these flavors into their diet, they have amassed a great deal of quantifiable data regarding the sales figures of these foods and current contemporary use of these flavors.  Also just general information, but, ya’ know, if there’s no money in it…  For instance, the chemical that causes the heat you feel when eating that habenero is capsaicin.  This is a chemical that the plant developed over time as a protective method to keep you FROM EATING IT!!!  This shows, along with social media, politics and the popularity of the Kardasians, that evolution doesn’t always work.

As would be expected, once there was notice that one pepper seemed hotter than another, someone had to construct a numerical scale to use as a comparison base in order to have a scientific way to win bar bets.  That task was accomplished in 1912 by Wilbur Scoville, a pharmacist in the employ of Parke-Davis Pharmaceuticals.  Wilbur’s scale measures the chemical results in a subjective way using Scoville Heat Units or SHU’s.  This scale runs from 0 (basically, water) to “AAARRHHHH!!!!!” (Infinity).  Presently, the highest rated source on this scale is the Dragon’s Breath pepper at 2,480,000 SHU’s.  This statistic could, however, change before I reach the end of this sentence.  To put this in perspective, a jalapeno, at its hottest, is about 20,000 SHU’s and a habanero chili tops at about 350,000.  2.48 million is basically airplane paint remover…except more noxious.

This glimpse into the science behind the heat leads us naturally back to the question alluded to at the beginning – why would anyone want to eat this stuff if they didn’t absolutely have to?  Well, cultural upbringing is one reason.  Those cultures in which the foods in question are traditional are more likely to be desensitized to their effects.

“Eat your jalapeno casserole or I’ll let your brother have your Cayenne cake!”

This is popularly known as the “Pink Floyd Effect”, and if you don’t know what that is, it may take you some research.  Here’s a hint:  play, “The Wall.”

Culinary psychologists (no, I am absolutely NOT kidding.  There are people who have managed to sell themselves as “Culinary Psychologists.  And you thought being a “celebrity chef” was a useless, made-up job!) have found a correlation between spicy foods and a risk-taking personality.  So I can conclude that my bar-mate with the over spicy wings was actually a risk-taker.  A man with a need for excitement.  A “James Bond” type personality without the exacting job.

He shouldn’t have listened to his “culinary psychologist.”   His risk-taking personality would have been better served if he had jumped out of a perfectly good airplane instead.

A local geological landmark in my area is undergoing a name change.

Now keep in mind, when I say “in my area” I’m not talking about your average urban neighborhood.  What I’m referring to is, oh, maybe a 3 or 4 hundred mile radius.  These are local concerns.  Granted, there’s a lot of space in between but it makes perfect sense if you consider population density.  Let’s compare, for example, the Crown Heights area of New York City.  This is just one neighborhood within the city.  It covers an area of about 1.5 square miles, depending on the source you consult.  For this article, I checked with the lady at the library (SHHHHH!) and some guy hangin’ around outside the Home Depot.  Anyway, where I’m from, 1.5 square miles is about the same as the walk home from the nearest pub.  The walk to the pub is measured in linear miles but, depending on the time spent and the volume of intake, the trip home is better measured in area.  That said, this one neighborhood of NYC contains a population greater than all but the largest city of the state in which I live…and that covers a much larger area than 1.5 square miles.

Where were we?  Oh, yes.

At issue in the effort toward renaming the mountain in question, which could be considered a geological landmark since it’s just kind of sitting there in the way, is the offensive nature of the person for whom the mountain was previously named.  It seems that this person, a general from the Mexican-American War era, was also one of the early military leaders of the Indian wars, and was himself a great Indian fighter.  The real problem, particularly in today’s society, is that he was also a “not-so-great” Indian fighter, as in the fighting of women and children who weren’t fighting in the first place.  These members of early Native American society were not called “Braves.”  I guess, as mentioned, they were called “women and children” and those who aspired to become “Braves” never got the chance.

In an effort to neutralize the awkward discomfort of the modern “political” (which is actually “social”) incorrectness of the name, it was decided the name should change.  Naturally, the problem stems from associating the name with someone who is presently unpopular.  Heck, even some members of the guys’ family wants the name to change.  So…  What do we call it?

Naturally, if the mountain were named after a going business concern which had paid for naming privileges, it would make no difference if they were worthy of the honor.  The only honor necessary is that someone profited from the naming.  Expansion of this practice would make it much easier to decide what to call things.  Just name them after whichever entity ponies up the most bucks:  Exxon Bay, Coca-Cola Canyon, Lake BP or maybe Apple Forest (or possibly iForest).  We have a great deal of experience with that in our “neighborhood.”  Let’s just say that it’s not any easier to hide skeletons in a closet full of money than it is to hide them in a regular closet – it’s just that the skeletons in the money closet don’t look as dead… Or maybe they look like they died of natural causes.

Getting back to point, the problem with sponsored naming is that if sponsorship is dropped, the designation would change and we’d have to learn a lot of new names for things.  Finding your way would be difficult because you know your GPS is never going to be that up-to-date.  Stopping to ask directions wouldn’t likely be much better:

“Hey, my friend…can you direct me to Premier Pond?”

“Premier Pond?  What’s that?”

“You know; it’s that small lake, lots of maple trees and a nice dock off the north end.  They catch all the Perch there…”

“Oh, you mean Dyson Dam.  Used to be Ford Fjord.  They change that again?  Anyway, yeah.  You go west of town till you get to Victoria’s Secret Hill and then…”

“Till I get to WHERE?”

You can see the problems inherent with this type of system and why we have permanent (kind of) names for things.

We could take the randomness and favoritism aspects out of naming things by assigning them numbers or, more scientifically, referring to them by their GPS coordinates.  Aside from being very difficult to remember, the mystique, romanticism and downright usefulness of the name would be severely diminished if not entirely eradicated.  Lover’s Point loses a little in the translation to 43. 5581938 x 96. 7483478.  Actually, I just used that as an example.  Those coordinates will actually take you to the local Buffalo Wild Wings and while the consumption of alcohol may lead to Lover’s Point, the coordinates I have listed will not.  Nor will the eating of buffalo wings.  Just try to look amorous and generate sexual interest while eating sauce-saturated chicken wings with your fingers and you’ll see the source of that determination.

Back to the case in question, I believe one of the frontrunners in the name change is that of a Native American leader and Medicine Man.  I think this is an excellent choice for a name.  It maintains the local, historical reference, it’s familiar, since some other things in the area contain the name and, while we have a great deal of information about the person, we have no evidence that he did anything offensive, generally stupid or foolishly socially incorrect.  Thank God there was no iPhone video available at the time or we might still be looking for a name.  It’s difficult to put a bad spin on the act of taking extra buffalo skins for political favors if the only remaining evidence is a faded painting of the act on a rock somewhere.  That’s not photographic evidence, it’s just hearsay – kind of like this article.  In addition, anything he may or may not have done can be taken as a normal action or attitude in another culture or society – unlike this article.

Another suggestion is the name it was referred to by the Americans who were here before we got here.  I think changing the name to a different language which is used by a tiny percentage of people, regardless of race, gender, color, sexual orientation or whatever someone is offended by today, is a bad idea and a good way to have people resist the change.  This idea is paramount to using a Latin name (a language used nowhere outside Academia, which, by the way, is nowhere near this mountain).  Perhaps we could name the peak using the name and language given it by the tribe who lived here before the tribe who lived here when we got here.  You see where I’m going with this, I’m sure, and because of that I’m not going there.

Now, I don’t know who it was exactly that decided the name should change (you and I both know it was “them” because “they” decide everything!) and, until I read about the effort I was unaware that the mountains’ namesake was unworthy of the honor.  Nor did I care, to be honest.  If “they” had started telling people that the mountain was so named because it was traditionally called that and no one knew why, the nomenclature would probably still be fine.   The name was so far removed from the man that, in modern times, the rock took ownership of it.

“So,” you’re wondering, “why is this topic under a Naturalist’s Corner flag?”

Well, that’s what I’m wondering and I’m the one writing about it.  The basic point really IS the  “ownership” of the name.  It’s a cultural argument.  It’s a personal interest argument.  It may be a political argument.  It can be debated and changed numerous times in the next thousand years but, when it comes down to it, it’s our petty perception problem…

The mountain just doesn’t care.

I have recently observed yet another climatic change.  Oh, not like the dramatic warming or cooling of the global environment.  Just your standard yearly temperature increase due to the coming of spring.  Not that I have really been paying attention to anything but the last home heating bill, which I originally mistook for the fuel statement of the most recent launch of whatever orbital system NASA is using now.  The signals which tip me off to the coming of spring are much more subtle.  Things such as the noticeable reduction in the climb over the snow pile I left in the driveway because it was, after all, already February and sure to melt soon.  Also, in the spring it’s easier to track the kids through the house because the mud melts more slowly than the snow which preceded it.  Finally, a change in the center of balance of the chairs in the kitchen is a foolproof system.  This occurs in most households as the winter coats, which for some reason cannot be placed on a hanging-type device in an actual closet, become stacked so high on the backrests that the chairs assume positions lying around the table at perpendicular angles.

          I have also noted that the fishing habits of a lot of my friends have changed.  The ice is going out and the seasons’ ice fishing is drawing to a close – except for a few individuals who:  a) are extremely cautious, b) are extraordinarily stupid or c) are filled with a desire to swim in large, frigid pools with small doors.  Each year as spring approaches, there is some moron who takes his life in his hands and drives out onto the middle of the lake because the ice at one point seems to be thick enough… or they’re too lazy to walk.  More often than not this is a waste of a person who, while they should have known better, could have been trained.  It’s also a loss of a perfectly good vehicle.  Worse yet is when the person behind the wheel escapes from institutionalization long enough to take someone else with them.  This should be a question on the drivers test in all northern states and Canada:

                                                                                         yes           no

                     Are you an ice fisherman?                           [ ]           [ ]

                     Are you an idiot who doesn’t know any      [ ]           [ ]

                     better than to drive on the ice in March

                     because you’re too damn lazy to walk?

If they answer yes to the first question they should be required to take a free course on ice driving safety.  Should they answer yes to both questions the tester should deny them licensure while staring at them as if they have mayonnaise on their eyebrows. 

          Come this time of year, most of us will move into other fishing venues.  If the ice is out far enough – say 12 feet from shore – some individuals will attempt to fish from the boat.  These are usually the same fellahs who’ve recently lost a vehicle through the ice.  They will normally spend an hour and a half getting the boat in the water around the ice and troll 400 feet of beachfront in 3 ½ feet of water.  This is, of course, a much more active endeavor than standing on the shore pulling in fish like all those other guys. 

          Personally, come ice-out, I like to wander to shore and fish for the really big northern pike.  This change in prey requires a change in fishing style.  My first change in technique is basically to stay awake.  This is not because of the increase in the volume of action or the subtle approach of the northern pike in nibbling your bait.  Mostly it’s because you could wake up and find that a northern in the twenty-pound range ran out your hi-tech line and took your graphite composite rod and $127 bait casting reel for a spin around the bottom of the lake.  Since northerns live, at best, to be the age of small children, as evidenced by the fact that they can’t remember where they found anything, you will never see that particular rod and reel again.

          This leads us very naturally to our next point – anchorage.  No, I’m not referring to fishing in Alaska.  What I’m talking about is the systematic fastenage, if you will, of your rod to some solid, well-set fixture.  A tree works well if available, or possibly the bumper of your vehicle.  Personally, I use a steel carrying tube for my rod.  This doubles as a tool to pound in metal fence posts, which I can use as a rod holder.  It looks stupid, but I haven’t lost a rod and reel in years.  When fishing around a reservoir it’s possible to use a driftwood log.  It’s always hopeful that this will serve a twofold purpose – that is, if it doesn’t keep the fish from pulling your rig into the water, it will at least act as a bobber.  Since most of us are not likely to catch a fish quite that big, I’m guessing you could be fishing a bit too high in the water and you should scan the vicinity for that guy trolling the thin water strip.

          Another major change I make from the usual walleye and perch fishing I do through the ice is a change in line.  Of course all you proficient fishermen will know this and probably change your line quite frequently anyway.  Still, when fishing for an aggressive fish like the northern or muskie it’s surely a good idea to go to a heavier line.  Now, this fish is not nearly as picky as a trout or even a walleye.  Because of this, your line selection need not be particularly specific…actually, ¼ inch nylon rope works pretty well.  The downside of that is the resulting size of the spool.  Even a heavy rope, however, is little protection against the rows of razor sharp teeth carried in the mouth of these aquatic predators (i.e., big, hungry fish).  A few shakes of the head and any line will be sawed clean, allowing the pike to escape with your bait, your treble hook and a really bad case of indigestion.

          For these reasons, the employment of a leader is called for.  If, however, you can’t find a competent leader who is knowledgeable in this type of fishing, you should at least use an 8 to 12 inch spacer on the end of your line, which is harder than the teeth of the fish and thus resistant to abrasion.  This is also a leader and generally a steel one is used to prevent the escape of these game fish.  For set fishing I like to use a 3/16th inch cable.  It’s definitely heavier than needed but I don’t have to replace it very often and it does away with the need for a weight on the end of my line.

          The final note in technique for pike fishing is simple and stems from the fact that these fish are, even as fish go, rather crude.  They have no real style and are more or less the rednecks of the fresh water fish world.  Truth be told, there really is no “technique” to pike fishing once you find out where they are.  My grandfather used to use large nuts for sinkers, homemade treble hooks, braided line and bailing wire for a leader – all on the cheapest rig he could put together.  I always thought it was kind of funny until it occurred to me that Grandpa had caught a number of northern in the mid to upper twenty pound range.  My best in expensive gear in a number of the most productive lakes and rivers is nearly 10 pounds beneath his average.

          My point?  I’ve spent a lot of time reading articles and stories by the most respected fishermen in the world and I have learned a great deal – only to forget the most important lesson about fishing that my grandpa taught me:

          Find yourself a good spot, relax and enjoy yourself.