Dombroski's Buck

Dombroski’s Buck

Most deer hunters will spend a lifetime in the field and not even get a glimpse of a bragging size buck. What are the chances of someone who can consistently fill their tag with deer that other hunters only dream about?

 Jeff Dombroski, is one of the most laid back, soft spoken persons you would ever want to meet. He reluctantly agreed to be interviewed about his record buck and I mean reluctantly as in not wanting to come across as bragging and bringing undo attention to himself. He considers any dedicated bowhunter that takes any matured deer, be it a buck or doe to be a trophy, because all deer are truly trophies.

He revealed a few of his secrets why he is so successful. It takes resolve! Prepare yourself for commitment. Good bow hunters scout year round and hunt more than 60 days each season. And as Mark Kayser says,"You can't kill a buck unless you hunt where he lives.

 Jeff wanted to emphasize that the lessons learned from the events that lead up to successful hunt cannot be overstated or underestimated.

Understanding and utilizing this knowledge is more important than all the hunting aids and infomercials combined. He went on to say that there are some products that work well in a given circumstance but none should be counted on to work all the time.

He stressed most important thing is learning about the environment and terrain that deer populate and why deer are drawn to it. Every buck has its own unique behavior patterns, and the more you observe and study them the more you will understand their habits.

 An experienced hunter must also consider current weather and wind conditions along with concealment and timing just to get a glimpse or hopefully a shot at a trophy buck. When it all comes together, it’s priceless.

Jeff’s story unfolds in Harrison County Ohio, home of giant earth movers, monster drag lines and monster bucks. Harrison County is located in the eastern portion of Ohio, about 2 hours from Columbus, Cleveland and Pittsburg and easily accessible from major interstate highways 70 & 77 and by way of routes 22, 250 and State Route 9. Draglines like the Silver Spade tore up the landscape in search of coal and left behind thousands of acres of reclaimed and reforested land. Deer and Turkey hunting abound in this terrain and annual deer harvests have exceeded 2,700.

One of the largest public hunting areas in Harrison County is Jockey Hollow Wildlife Area. This area encompasses 3,469 acres and the wildlife area is easily accessible to the public. The terrain is steeply rolling hills and valley floors covered with second growth hardwoods, conifers and grasslands.

 Since this area wasn’t glaciated during the ice age, some of the old timers think strip-mining has something to do with the size of the bucks roaming the county side. They feel that strip-mining brought buried nutrients and minerals to the surface to be assimilated into the food chain that the local deer feed on resulting in above average size and growth.

The residents of Harrison County are a God fearing, down to earth people where a spit in the palm handshake is worth as much as their signature on a piece of paper. Hard times have hit this region and a lot of families stretch their budget by hunting and fishing.

 If Hank Williams Jr. was looking for a stereotype for his hit song “A Country Boy Will Survive” he would not have had to look any further than the people who reside in this region.

Jeff was born in West Virginia and raised in Harrison County Ohio. He was introduced to hunting at an early age by his uncle and took his first deer with a bow at 16 and has filled his tag every year since.

He chose occupations such as coalmining, farming and construction that would allow him to be in the outdoors as much as possible and he could schedule his outings so that it didn’t interfere with his family responsibilities. Any man who works with his hands scraping a living from the soil has a better understanding and appreciation of nature and Jeff is no exception. He knows this terrain like he knows the back of his weathered and calloused hands.

During the 2008-2009 deer season, Jeff took nice 8-point with a bow and wanted to help his son fill his tag during muzzleloader season. Jeff was making a drive and caught sight of a very large buck going out the back of the woods he was driving. His son never seen the deer but Jeff knew that this buck was something special and he would have to put all his hunting skills and knowledge together to get a opportunity for a shot at this buck.

As the season came to a close, all Jeff could think about was how he was going to prepare himself for next years hunt. He already knew the lay of the land including every thicket of multiflora rose and locus, every contour, and every food source within an 800 acre tract that this deer was calling home. He was confident that this buck made it through the season unscathed because word travels in this neck of the woods if anyone seen, or shot at a wall hanger carrying a rack of that size. Jeff was just hoping that the animal was not pressured to the point it would leave the area.

Jeff made some inquires about trail cameras to his buddies without letting them know what his ulterior motive was. They convinced him that trail cameras were the way to go to verify what was running the trails, so for the first time he started using cameras early in pre-season scouting trips. He managed to get some nice pictures of bucks but not the one he was looking for. He knew he needed something that would arouse this brute’s curiosity enough so it would drop its guard to get a visual sighting on him.

While at the Roger’s Sale, Jeff met Smokey McNicholas, a professional trapper and maker of deer lures. He had heard that Smokey’s glandular deer lures was a trusted name in the lure business so explained to Smokey that he wanted to get this particular buck to show himself because it was real camera shy. Smokey recommended a gland lure that could be used early in the season and would arouse this buck’s curiosity about other bucks in his territory. If this buck was the alpha male he would definitely want to size up the competition.

On his next scouting trip Jeff started using the lure that Smokey recommended, he made sure that it was being applied properly and about 6 weeks before the start of bow season he finally spotted his buck

Jeff spotted him right where he had placed the lure. Now that he knew where the buck was ranging he would be able to regularly observe this bad boy’s habits from a safe distance using field glasses. As deer season approached Jeff was confident that he had learned enough about this buck that all he needed to do was put it all together.

If curiosity killed the cat then overconfidence can sometimes leave you discouraged. Jeff forgot a very important rule when hunting, always expect the unexpected.

Jeff would sparingly apply more lure and would see this buck on a regular basis still hanging close to the field that he first found him. It was early in the day and Jeff was on his 4 wheeler going back to replenish his lure and almost drove right over the buck he was pursuing. He had no idea that the buck was laying off the trail that he used to access the area. Jeff said luckily, the buck was looking away from me and the wind was in his face and that buck must have been used to hearing a 4-wheeler because he didn’t budge.

When Jeff finally realized how close he had gotten and how big this monster was, he just said to himself “My God this just ain’t going to happen”. Jeff got out of there as quickly and quietly as he could and didn’t return until bow season, he just kept hoping that he didn’t spook this buck.

This encounter left Jeff so shaken that he was starting to question his ability and resolve to take a buck of lifetime. So when he returned home he called a good friend and fellow hunter Don Weber from Fairpoint, Ohio a person he considers one of the best deer hunters and sportsmen that he knows and respects. Jeff explained to Don what happened and how he was having second thoughts about his ability to kill a 200 class buck. Don assured him that if anyone could do it he would be the one that would be able to get the job done. Don’s words went along way helping Jeff restore his confidence.

Bow season started on a Saturday and Jeff promised his grandson who is fourteen that that he would take him out hunting over the weekend. On the 3^rd day Jeff returned to the site where he had previously set up a ground blind and as he was going into it he seen his buck coming up the hill toward him. Since he wasn’t prepared to make a shot, he waited until he could back out of there without being detected and went to another stand about a thousand yards away. While on that stand Jeff passed up a shot on a real nice 8 point that he figured would have scored above average as a non-typical.

The fourth day turned out to be a wash and Jeff thought for sure that he pressured this buck just a little bit too much. But on the 5th day, back in his ground blind he heard a commotion coming from valley sounding like someone was taking a ball bat and hitting the trees. He just knew it had to be that big buck, possibly fighting with that 8 pointer he saw on the previous day.

It was early in the afternoon on the 6^th day when Jeff entered his ground blind and was just settling in when a few does appeared on the edge of the tree line and started to make their way into the adjoining field. Jeff was so intent on watching the does that he almost missed seeing an 8 pointer coming come out of the woods and was studying the does. Jeff thought to himself this looks like the same buck he passed up on the third day.

When the buck was about 10 yards away he abruptly turned and was looking right at Jeff’s blind. Jeff thought he was busted and he knew if this buck alerts, all hell was going to break loose. Jeff also knew if that happened the only thing left for him to do was pack up his dog and pony show and get out of Dodge.Unbeknownst to Jeff this buck wasn’t looking at him; it was looking at another buck that came out of the woods directly behind his blind. Jeff heard a loud snort and turned just in time to see a flash of white break over the ridge and drop into the next valley. The 8 point then turned and went back into the woods and the does just kept on feeding like nothing ever happened. Jeff waited awhile and figured it wasn’t going to happen then eased out of his blind and removed his face mask. When he happened to look up, standing 45 yards away on the far side of the field was his monster buck. The setting sun was reflecting off its antlers making the tines appear as polished sabers pointing toward the sky. With his nostrils flaring, chest bulging and hair bristling, and with his head down the buck started to move directly to the place the 8 point was last seen. This display of superiority allowed Jeff time to re enter his blind and get his face mask on with out being spotted.

Now Jeff was trying to keep it all together and even though his eyes are the same color of blue as Paul Newman’s, “Cool Hand Luke” wasn’t in the blind that day.

As the buck kept moving toward him it was all he could do to keep his “10 Point” crossbow steady. Jeff used to hunt with a compound bow, but a broken shoulder coupled with nerve damage to his right arm made all but impossible to draw and hold a bow. He kept reminding himself over and over, don’t look at the antlers and don’t look this buck in the eye.

The buck continued coming toward the blind until he reached the tree where Jeff had previously placed the deer lure. The buck then stopped and nonchalantly started to sniff at the tree. The buck’s interest shifted from the 8 point to the odor emanating from the branches. Then the buck turned broadside and remained in that position giving Jeff enough time to pick a spot and settle in.

Jeff continued to hold steady and was squeezing the trigger to the point that he wondered if he released the safety. Finally the bolt exploded from the bow hitting its target from about twenty five yards away. The buck just stood there for a moment kind of startled and then trotted away, not realizing it was hit.

 Jeff said he was so mesmerized by that moment that he continued to hold his bow on the spot where he placed the dot in the scope and continued aiming well after the buck turned and started back the way he came.

Not wanting to push this buck, so he waited for what he thought was an eternity but he guessed it was about twenty minutes before he left the blind. He decided to go home which was only a few miles away and come back before darkness set in. It was all he could do to curb his enthusiasm as Jeff and his son returned to the spot where the buck was last seen. He kept telling his son, “it’s big, it’s big” as they recovered the bolt, covered in blood when it made a complete pass through. Jeff knew at that time that buck was his, but as the great sage Yogi Berra once said; “It ain’t over till it’s over”.

They found the buck in some tall grass about fifty yards from where he shot it. There was very little blood trail to follow but by standing on his tip toes Jeff could see its antlers protruding from the grass about ten yards away. It was when he placed his hands on the buck’s antlers to hold its head up that Jeff finally realized how big this buck really was.

The sun was almost below the horizon as Jeff and his son loaded this magnificent animal on the 4 wheeler for its final trip home. Both father and son were so humbled by this moment that no words were spoken or needed to be said during their return trip home.

Jeff’s buck scored 192 3/8 at the Ohio Valley Outdoors’ 2010 Big Buck Rendezvous held in Lisbon, Ohio and was the highest scoring non-typical entered. It was also the highest scoring Ohio buck and crossbow entry.

Jeff’s Gear

Crossbow- 175lb 10 Point, 2008 model

Scope- Red Dot

Bolt- Easton alum 2219 Crossbow Hunter

Broadhead-  Montec G-5 100gr 3 blade

Camo- Bush in a Bag

Lure- Smokey’s Deer Lure

Blind- Natural

Taxidermist- Joe Pietro, Dillonvale, Ohio

Warning Signs

As we drive the highways and byways we always see those yellow signs that warn us of the impending dangers that lie ahead. If the route you’re taking has been traveled time and time again these signs are registered unconsciously in our brain and become part of the scenery on your way to your destination. Visual recognition and repetition has programmed our brain to take evasive action to avoid a catastrophe even when we were not aware of it.

In the woods or on our lakes or streams those warning signs of impending danger are not as visual as those signs on the highways so we must train ourselves to become constantly aware of our surroundings and be alert at all times. Even though we have hunted the same area or fished the same stretch of river year after year we become complacent and take things for granted that nothing has changed. Nature always gives us warning signs regardless of what we are doing in the outdoors. Most of the time they are very subtle and unless you are acutely aware of your surroundings they will go UN-noticed. Always assess your surroundings looking for tale, tale signs of impending danger before you commit yourself.

If your fishing cold crystal clear streams that no matter where you look you can most always see bottom, before you step away from the bank know how deep the water really is by using a wading staff or test the depth with a fallen branch. What might look like 1ft deep is in reality about 6ft deep. This is called refraction.

I was fishing the Pere Marquette River around Baldwin, Michigan. Being my first trip to this area I was really amazed on how clear the water was. No matter where I looked there were only a few places I couldn’t see bottom so I just stepped off the bank into the stream and my leg kept on going down with out touching. I was wearing chest waders and the loss of footing coupled with the strong current put me in a precarious situation that I was about to become a human cork to be carried off to Lake Michigan. Luckily for me there was a sapling growing close to the water that I grasped onto saving me from getting a fish eye view of the bottom while being swept away.

Chest waders are notorious for holding air in the legs especially if you are also wearing an outside belt. When you lose your footing, the air trapped in the legs of your waders brings your feet up and when both feet come up, your head goes down. You have now become a strange looking bobber and are at the mercy of the current. If the water is deep enough you will most likely drown unless you can save yourself or someone can get a hold on you in time.

When wearing chest waders and using an outside belt always be sure that the belt has a quick disconnect buckle and always carry a small, sharp sheath knife attached to the suspenders of the waders. If by chance you find yourself with your head under water, lose the belt and cut the suspenders if they get hung up while trying to remove them. First and foremost, stay calm and don’t lose your cool. Get rid of your fishing rod and concentrate on getting out of your waders and your head back above the surface of the water.

Wading lakes or streams without chest or hip waders can also become a hazard. Even when you can see the bottom there is always a possibility of false bottoms,broken glass, shards of metal or discarded hooks just waiting for you. Either wear wading shoes or tennis shoes with thick soles. If the bottom is strewn with round slippery boulders or flat rocks covered with algae, use a wading staff and a boot with felt soles to keep from slipping.

I was fishing a lake in cut offs and tennis shoes that had a sandy bottom and very clear water. The smallies were ignoring all my presentations and were only taking live crickets that I had noticed  being in the water close to the shoreline, so off I went to find a bait shop that sold crickets. After finding a bait store that sold crickets I purchased fifty and a cricket cage that was designed to dispense one cricket at a time and returned to where the fish were rising. I was concentrating on the location of the fish and trying to bait a hook with a cricket and wasn’t paying attention to where I was wading. The next thing I knew I was going down. It was like stepping into an uncovered manhole. The water was only up to my knees then over my head  in a split second. The bottom just dropped out and I never touched the bottom. I’m trying to hold unto my rod, close the cricket cage and tread water at the same time, needless to say I let go of the rod, the cricket cage top came off and all the live crickets converged on my head and face and trying to enter any orifice that my head presented. I finally made it back to a solid bottom and proceeded to remove all the crickets from my head, face mouth, nose and ears and then go diving for my rod. What had happened, over time the water currents had moved out the sand leaving a deep depression that filled with leaves and other vegetable matter giving the impression that the bottom was stable that close to shore.

 If I had spent a little more time at the bait shop or with the locals inquiring about the lake that I was fishing and if there was anything I needed to know about the bottom structure and if I was paying attention to where I was wading and using a wading staff I might have stayed safe and caught some fish. I learned a great deal from that experience plus the fish got a free supper from the crickets so I’m glad it ended well.

Where I fish there are a lot of snakes, mostly water snakes that can give you a good bite if you’re not careful where you put your hands and feet or your butt. Their bite is not poisonous but can become infected quickly Copperheads are known to reside around certain section of the creek so you have to be keenly aware because they are masters of camouflage in leaves and other vegetation and their bite is poisonous. Wild animals such as coyotes, skunks, fox, and raccoons will go way out of their way to avoid you. If you encounter an animal that exhibits unusual behavior, give it a wide berth and do not provoke it.

When these things happen just remember to stay calm and not make the situation any worse than it already is. You only get one chance on the merry-go-round of life so live it to its fullest and be safe out there while you’re doing it.

Old Archers never die, they just shoot their arrows away

As I pulled into the driveway I could see him in his backyard in a bowhunters shooting stance, his Howard Hill long bow being drawn back more like a machine than human. As he released the arrow his bow made a slight whffft and another cedar shaft found its way into a five inch target. By the time I got my gear ready and approached him, he was already knocking his last arrow and concentrating on the mark. He completed his draw and released in one fluid motion and his last arrow found its place among the previous four all within the circle. He then turned and gave me that mischievous grin that not only showed his pride but offered a challenge for me to try to do better. That person is Byron Dray and at 84 years young and is a dedicated disciple of traditional archery and hunting the hard way, just like Howard Hill did it.

In the world of outdoor sports particularly hunting and fishing there are those who rise to the top possibly due to their natural ability, determination and a willingness to make personal sacrifices to achieve their goals. We all have dreams of catching a world record fish, hunting an animal that would surpass anything in the record book or winning a world class shooting event. It is normal to have those dreams but what is the driving force that motivates some of us to succeed to that level while others fail. Then there are those that have that determination and drive but are seldom heard of or recognized even though they have made lasting contributions through their dedication and active participation. These are the unsung heroes that we all know that give of their time and resources to insure that the legacy of their chosen sport continues to endure. There are a million untold stories out there and this is one of them.

I first met Bryon a few yesrs ago in Wall-Mart. We were both in the magazine section looking for the latest issue of the Traditional Archer. He casually remarked about the magazine having a lot of the articles were very informative to the instinctive archer. He then introduced himself and asked me if I shot a bow and specifically if I shot traditional. I replied that I have shot a few arrows in my time. A broad smile lit up his face and we spent hours talking about traditional archery, he was doing most of the talking and I was doing the listening. Our wives who were waiting patiently almost had to drag us apart. That’s a switch because we are usually dragging them out of the store. Age differences present no boundaries when it comes to archery and that chance meeting started a friendship that keeps growing stronger over the years.

Byron grew up in the East end of East Liverpool Ohio spending more time in the woods and reading novels by James Fennimore Cooper than he did in school. His heroes were guys who shot archery when it was just archery, not what we call traditional archery today. He tailored his shooting style and hunting philosophy after Howard Hill, probably one of the the greatest archers and bow hunter who ever lived.

He started shooting a bow as a youngster and recalls his first bow was a York longbow. After a stint in the Navy during WW2 he started hunting with a bow in 1949. His other passion was varmint hunting with rifles, particularly a 220 swift with a Mauser action which he built with the help of his father-in-law who was a well known gunsmith. He also hand loaded his own ammunition spending endless hours experimenting to find the perfect load.

At that time Bryon didn’t have the time to join a sportsmen’s club due to raising a family and working at Crucible Steel in Midland PA. as an electrician. Any free time that he had was spent in the woods hunting or in his workshop tinkering with his rifles. He also takes great pride in making his own arrows and cresting them.

When it comes to promoting traditional archery Byron has no equal when it comes to his dedication. His knowledge of the sport, particularly the history and shooting feats of Howard Hill, is endless. After his retirement Byron has devoted his time teaching the basics of archery and is a certified basic archery instructor with the NFAA. As far as equipment, he doesn’t care if you prefer a compound bow or a recurve because the basics of learning to shoot consistently are the same as shooting traditional. Although he has never owned or shot a compound bow his personal feelings are that he wouldn’t shoot anything that has "training wheels".

Bryon was an active member of the Columbiana County Archers an archery club that is devoted to perpetuating the sport of archery by maintaining a place to practice and having qualified instructors to assist those beginning in the sport. The club bestowed him their life time membership award for his contribution of countless hours of volunteer work making improvements to the club and working with children and adults teaching them the basics of archery.

Men of this caliber are the unsung heroes of the sport of archery.

Tenkara, not to be confused with Tempura

Be careful what you ask for in a Japanese Restaurant
 

    A while back my friend Lee called to tell me about this new method of fly fishing that he seen at a Sportsman’s show that doesn’t use a fly reel. He said that they were using a super light weight rod about 15 ft long with no ferrules or line guides because the rod telescopes and the line attaches to the tip of the rod. The more he rambled the more excited he was getting and it was all he could do to contain himself.
Do you remember “Wildcat”Bob Goldthwaite, the hyperactive comedian from the seventies and eighties, well, that’s Lee. Talking to Lee is like communicating with someone who has been diagnosed with PTSD, ADD, St. Vitas Dance and Tourettes Syndrome all rolled into one. He might be a little excitable and unpredictable at times but he’s fun to be around as long as he is on his meds. I asked him as many questions that I could about this new fad of fly fishing trying not to set him off and he told me that he couldn’t remember the name of the booth or what they called it. He then proceeds to tell me about the new reels he seen there that had metallic paint jobs to match your boat, hyper drive disk brakes with 25 to 1 gear ratios and a whole bunch of other things. The next thing I know he’s talking about sports cars so when I finally get him back on track about fishing he tells me that it sounded  like ”ten carrots” which didn’t make any sense at all. Lee said he had to go because he was getting a headache from trying to remember this stuff and he had to take his pills.
Fly fishing without using a reel seems very interesting and I became intrigued by it’s simplicity but I had some reservations about how it would feel when actually hooking and landing a big fish. I thought I would research this method of fishing since I’m a big advocate of the kiss factor and the less complicated something is, the better I like it.  I made a few phone calls to a couple of my fishing buddies asking them if they ever heard of a Japanese fishing method that sounded something like “ten carrots”. One said he thought he seen something on the Outdoor Channel a while back and another one told me he ordered it once at a Japanese restaurant and he said it was delicious. Being a big fan of oriental cuisine and I thought the Japanese restaurant was a good tip because who would know more about Japanese fishing than a Japanese chef who specialized in fish. I told my wife that I was taking her out to a Japanese restaurant and the first words out of her mouth was “and I suppose you’re going to order fish”. I forgot to mention that my wife was traumatized by fish when she was younger so that anything that looks like a fish, smells like a fish or swims like a fish she wants nothing to do with it. As a youngster her and all her siblings would go swimming in the old farm pond and the bluegill would nibble on her leg hairs which really freaked her out, not to mention the stories that her brother told her about their grandfather stocking the pond with piranha’s to eat the trespassers. Right after we met she told me this story and I tried to convince her to let her leg hairs grow longer and when she shaved her legs I wanted them to use the hair as tails on my hand tied fly’s. I was convinced that this would be a sure fire fish bait.
Meanwhile back at the restaurant, from the time we left the car and was seated she s telling me if she even gets a whiff of a fish she was leaving. The waiter, a polite young man who spoke broken English gave us our menus and asked what we would like a drink. Before my wife could say another word I told him; two Sake’s. Now she wanted to know what Sake was and I told her it was a Japanese drink made from rice and she would enjoy it. The waiter returned with our drinks and she took a sip letting it run around her palette, swallowed and gave her approval by downing the rest of the cup. I quickly ordered her another and by the time we were ready to order our food she was up to three. After three Saki’s on an empty stomach I was almost convinced that I could have ordered her a raw octopus and she would have eaten it with delight.
While scanning the menu I causally asked the waiter if he ever heard of “ten carrots”. He looked at me with a puzzled look on his face then with a big smile he said;  “Asooo, Tempura, velly good velly good”. Now about this time my wife got a bad case of the giggles while winking at a mackerel with glazed over eyes in the bowl of fish head soup that was served at our adjoining table. While she was trying to get the fish to respond her winking, I ordered Habu-Habu and another Saki for her and I ordered the Tempura. After a delightful meal I called the waiter over and asked him to give my compliments to the chef and to ask him if what he knew about fly fishing, Japanese style. I knew I wasn’t getting across to him so I called Lee on my cell phone and asked him if he could explain to the waiter what I was talking about. Lee assured me that he knew a little Japanese since he was stationed in Japan when he was in the service and it wouldn’t be a problem so I put the waiter on the phone with Lee. After a short while, the waiter looked at me in total disbelief, handed me the cell phone, muttered something in Japanese and took off the kitchen in a dead heat run. I told my wife, this is great I finally found someone who knows something about Japanese fishing. After a short while the doors to the kitchen burst open and out comes this little man with a head band wearing a white apron that was way to big for him shouting something I could not understand, frothing at the mouth and waving a large meat cleaver that you could have cut a horse in half. He was followed by our waiter who points out our table and both came on like a banzai charge with the chef in the lead waving his cleaver. I got up from the table and was going to respectfully bow but the waiter got between us and was shouting No Bow, No Bow he will cut your head off. I looked over to my wife who was sipping her fourth Saki with a devilish grin on her face thinking how hilarious it was that I was about to be decapitated by a Sushi Chef.
The Japanese language has to be properly annunciated with the correct pronunciation along with guttural sounds and tonal inflections in order to correctly communicate your message. I have no idea what Lee told the waiter but I’m sure something got lost in the translation. The waiter informed me that I wanted to know why The Chefs Mother’s breath smelled like the rear end of Macaque Monkey. After many humble apologies and explanations along with a very large tip for both the waiter and the Chef, I finally soothed his feathers and as he regained his composure he said to me in perfect English; you crazy American I don’t fish, I buy fish at the local fish market like everyone else.

The Japanese are given credit for inventing or replicating a lot of things but I don’t think they invented fly fishing. The style of fishing with only rod-line-fly has existed throughout Europe and much of the world for centuries and even after fishing reels became common, the Japanese did not adopt the reel as part of their fishing gear. This method seems to be related to another method of fishing that roughly gets translated as “Zero Fishing Method” meaning fishing only with the bare essentials in Japanese.
Tenkara, The term tenkara became popular in Japan about 30-40 years ago but it is also called "kebari tsuri" (lliterally translated to "fishing with a feathered hook"). The Japanese have perfected this form of fly fishing only using a rod, a line and a fly that allows drag free drifts which keeps the majority of the line off the water while presenting the fly in its most natural form. Fishing a fly in the western world usually necessitates a reel but the Japanese has taken the concept of presenting a fly with only a rod and line and has elevated it to an art form. The Tenkara method was reintroduced to the western world in the last 60 years but has never caught on until recently.

Since  we all know that the Internet doesn't lie I will have to come clean and tell you that the above story was a dash of truth, A little fiction, and a whole lot of imagination.

Evil is Alive & Well

A good friend and fellow blogger just posted a story last Tuesday with a header stating that Evil is Alive & Well in the U.S.A. It’s about the failure of Congress to include the assault weapons ban in their gun control legislation. He goes on to say or agrees that Wayne La Pierre and the NRA are no better than the Klu-Klux- Klan and the al-Qaeda and that Americans should be ashamed of them selves for sponsoring and allowing this organization to have that much power and political clout. Politicians who disagree with banning assault weapons or banning all guns should be ashamed of them selves for not standing up to the gun lobby and we should send these cowards packing.

I want to be first to say that I will support his right to say and publish his thoughts and his beliefs to the death for we have been given this right under the 1^st amendment of the Bill of Rights. Each of those amendments are linked together and interwoven to provide the fabric of who we are and what our country stands for. It has been said that the pen is mightier than the sword so that being the case man’s thoughts being uttered or put to paper can do more good or damage than any weapon. History has shown that is has brought nations to its knees and caused new nations to rise up.

What’s hard for me to wrap my head around is why anyone with any intelligence and stature would have a problem figuring out that if you weaken one amendment you will weaken rest. If I can stand behind his right of freedom of speech, freedom of the press and the freedom to lawfully assemble then why is it so hard for him to stand behind my rights under the 2^nd amendment to keep and bear arms.

Columbiana County, zero population by 2014

My morning routine consists the three S'S followed by a large cup of coffee and then scanning the morning paper for little nuggets of wisdom of the tongue in cheek variety. Some of these are obviously typos or misprints but most of these gems come from the police blotters from around the county.  Just this morning I read about the County's overall health report and I almost choked on my last gulp of coffee, The health commissioner noted how automobile fatalities have fallen off in the recent past that in 2011, 17 out of 100,000 deaths in the county were attributed to traffic fatalities compared to only 14 in 2012. The last I looked at the 2011 census, there are only 107,570 residents in the county. Maybe our county treasurer ought look in to this to find out were everyone is buried at.

The Poor Man’s Tarpon or Blue Collar Bone Fish

Article printed in Ohio Valley Outdoors, Spring Issue,March 16, 2013

The difference between a bass fisherman and a trout fisherman is the bass fisherman loves football, has Bass Master Fat Heads on his bedroom wall, has a tackle box so big that he has to pay lot rent on, watches the Outdoor Channel, drinks beer, drives a pickup truck with a gun or a bow in the back window, owns big bass boat, and loves noisy and big busted women.  They also say, “Git-R-Done” rather than “Nicely Done”.

The trout fisherman on the other hand watches CNN, drinks expensive wine, drives a Mazda, attends fondue parties, eats sushi, expounds lofty phrases of praise and adulation when his fishing partner hooks up on a fish and hardly thinks about women. The latter is possibly due to the ice cold water running between his thighs for extended periods of time.

I consider myself a hybrid, I use a fly rod to fish for both trout and bass plus other warm and cold water species of fish, I tie my own creations experimenting with all types of fur and feather, I prefer to wade in a pair of cutoffs and tennis shoes, I like JD and Coke rather than beer or wine, I rarely attend parties, not fond of sushi, I watch the History Channel, and I still think about women. At my age and being married, that’s about all I can do, fish and think.

I have a moderate collection of fly rods that I have used over the years and each time I hold one of them it brings back many pleasant memories of the places I have been, the streams I have waded, the fish I have caught, and the friends I have made. My wife on the other hand considers anything over one is one to many. I try to convince her that each of those rods is like a chapter in my life of fishing and the book is not finished. She has threatened to write the final chapter if I buy another rod, so if you read about my untimely demise in the daily rag you know what happened.

One rod in particular, brings back memories that would make the “purist” fly fisherman lose his groceries in disgust. Only a scoundrel and a charlatan would sully the works of the great Izaak Walton by angling for such a fish. Even entertaining the thought might possibly bring shame and dishonor to the sacred fraternity of the fur and feather. I’m talking about fishing for carp, yes I said C-A-R-P, carp on a fly.

I’m talking about that large scaled toothless torpedoes with whiskers and Raggedy Ann eyes that will sometimes scare the Be Jesus out of you by swimming between your legs when your wading and creating a wake like a Great White shark. Granted they are not a pretty fish and their feeding habits would put a pig to shame and I have yet to find one hanging on someone’s wall. What they lack in good looks and manners they more than make up with lighting fast and powerful runs. Picture this, hooking onto Jerome “The Bus” Bettis with a fly rod when he was making his run through the line.

In earlier years I have fished in Ohio, Michigan, Pennsylvania, and West Virginia for trout and steel head with a fly rod, all of which were memorable and enjoyable experiences. I now resign my self to fishing Beaver Creek and its branches located in the Northeast section of Ohio for Smallmouth bass and what I call the “The Poor Mans Tarpon” or the “Blue Collar Bonefish” otherwise known as the Common Carp. I have caught Coho salmon in the tributaries off Lake Erie and have hooked into a Chinook in Michigan which is still going down the Muskegon River heading for Lake Michigan with my fly line in tow, but nothing can compare to hooking up with a 10 to 15 lb. pound carp that will make a steelhead run seem like he took a dose of Nyquil.

The common carp are originally from Europe and Asia and was brought to the U.S. in 1870. They are now found in most warm water lakes, streams, and rivers through out the United States. Most fishermen consider them a trash fish and leave them to die on the bank when caught. In Asia, they are considered a delicacy and when properly prepared by their method of cooking their flesh somewhat pleasant to the taste. They feed primarily on insect larvae, crawfish, and small fish and grow to an average weight of 10 lbs with a few weighing in at 50-60 lbs and over 40 inches long.

Carp are not dumb and it’s not like fishing in a barrel. They are as skittish and sensitive as any trout so approach and presentation of your offering has to be just right. When feeding, they will either take you’re offering or if spooked they will skedaddle out of the hole you are fishing. Stealth wading and staying low to the water is the best way to approach them and presenting your fly without making a splash will keep them calm and content.

When you see their tail up they are feeding off the bottom and their line of vision is only about 6 inches to a foot depending on the depth and turbidity of the water. When they are horizontal and part of their backs are showing above the water line, their line of sight good up to 3-5 feet depending on water conditions. Remember, you’re not fishing with dough ball or chicken gizzards so smell is not how they will find your offering.

I recommend a 9 ft. medium action fly rod, 5-7 weight and a fly reel with a disk drag spooled with either level or weight forward casting line and 100 yards of backing. Once they feel the bite of the hook they will take off, screaming through the water like a wild bull coming out of a bucking chute. Battles can range from a few minutes to more than a half an hour and in some cases longer depending on the size of the carp. Be prepared to run up or down stream to maintain control and to recover your fly line.  A rod that is too light and a reel without a drag will feel like a strand of limp spaghetti in your hand and you will definitely lose control of the fish. All you can do at that point is look around and hope no one can see the look on your face as your fish takes off for parts unknown.

I don’t think carp are as picky as trout about what they eat since carp uses both sight and smell; they also use their barbules or whiskers to locate food in muddy water. A variety of well known nymph and terrestrial patterns like Hares Ear, Clouser, Wooly Worm and Wooly Bugger will work if the presentation is correct. I prefer to tie my own flies so I can name them Bug Eyes, Ham& Eggs, Sloppy Joe, Pork & Beans, and The Dough Boy, these names seem to be more fitting to carp fishing. Again, it’s all about presentation, not so much the offering.

The biggest challenge will be locating the fish. Look for areas of disturbed or muddy water and carp actively feeding. Once they are located, be patient and work every fish you see by casting multiple times making your presentation without spooking the fish. Slowly swim your fly by stripping the line gently four to eight inches at a time. Taking your fly will be subtle; watch your line or indicator to move erratically or stop momentarily on the drift. A carp will turn on the fly and inhale it with a quick sucking motion. If it not to his liking he will spit it out very quickly so be ready to set the hook. A hook set is made by a quick upward motion of the wrist while stripping the fly line to take up slack. Carp have a leathery and a very tough mouth so keeping your hooks super sharp is a must to make complete penetration and prevent pull outs.

Once you hook up with one of these super suckers on a fly rod you will see why I call them the poor mans tarpon or the blue collar bonefish. You will have almost as much action and excitement as if you hooked into a Tarpon, Bone or Red fish in Florida or a Steel Head or King Salmon in Alaska; it’s like having a champagne taste on a beer income. The only thing missing will be the beautiful scenery and lavish surroundings.

Hell, I can dream, can’t I?

D.R. "Doc" Roberts