The first week of October was finally here.  The first three days were spent in my favorite stand watching 3 raccoons in which I had named Larry, Curly, and Moe.  The mother raccoon was slightly bigger than the two younger ones, and seemed curious to every movement surrounding them.  The days here in eastern Oklahoma in October were still in the 80’s with mosquitoes buzzing everywhere.  I was wondering if it were still to hot to hunt and questioned myself again over and over.  Each day so far, I had hunted morning and evening with only a few does showing up.

Our family is one of three families (all related) that live on the mountain with about 360 acres of land owned by our families.  Each year we hunt, we always establish the rules.  {8 Point or better for the husbands} {Wives and kids, buck or doe} Now last year I hunted all year and didn’t harvest one deer, but I had seen enough antlers to keep me excited.  Every time Bill and Grover, my brother in-laws, sure let me know how I got spanked on last years hunt.  Both are avid rifle hunters and tagged out the year I brought home nothing.  I was thinking about this already early in this season while elevated about 18 feet up in my climber.  I wondered, as every other hunter does, will this be my year.  As I looked down from my stand at the raccoons again on the 4^th morning of October 2007, I was once again thinking of how pretty they were and how every day I am in the woods, I look for the highlight of the day.  Whether this was the highlight of the day again, or was an owl going to sit on the limb next to me, a squirrel sitting on my boot, quail leaving a fast trail for a coyote, bobcats on the prowl, turkeys rustling, what was going to be the highlight?

Then, I saw movement directly in front of me.  I was a deer for sure, and no does were present yet.  I had placed my stand in what my wife calls the quiet spot.  High cedars with no brush, not to thick, but perfect for a good bow shot.  A well used doe trail to my right, and another trail coming in from the left, thicker trees to my front.  I could see about 40 yards around me with a creek bed behind me on a down hill gentle slope. The deer in front of me wasn’t spooked or aware of my presence as it slowly made its way directly toward me.  Sun to my back and the breeze in my face, finally, I could see him completely.  “Very nice buck” I was thinking.  As he moved closer and closer, I could count 4 on one side and 4 on the other.  Not sure if I wanted to take the shot just yet, I moved into position just in case.  Standing now and ready to draw, I used the bow as if I was hiding behind its small limbs.  The buck was much bigger than I originally thought the closer he moved to my stand.  20 yards and still coming, 10 yards and still coming.  He stopped, head concealed by a large cedar tree.  I came to full draw and picked my shooting lane.  As if knowing I was now ready to shoot, the 8 point stepped from behind the cedar and moved closer, directly into my shooting lane.  7 yards, I picked my hairs on the buck, just behind the shoulder and quartering down.  I could sense the raccoons to my right and felt a sense of calm, took a large breath, let it out half way, became steady as a rock and released.

{‘Wham”}  I dropped him in his tracks.  I intended to penetrate spine, heart, and lung if possible for a deadly and swift kill.  My broadhead did exactly that.  I stood for a moment and watched the buck lie still and quiet.  Larry, Curly, and Moe were nowhere to be seen.  I called my wife using my cell phone and quietly whispered I had a good buck down, her response to me was “why are we whispering”.  Laughing a little I said, I am in the quiet spot.

After checking the buck in and heading to the processors, I continued to hunt the evening in another stand.  Each day I hunted, I elected to use my climber instead of pre-placed stands used each year.  October the 7^th, 3 days after my first buck of the year, my 14 year old son was ready for action.  This would be his first year bow hunting, and he practiced every day for the last two months.  He was actually quite good shooting the pillow target and 3D’s, in which I was very proud.  Sunday after church, he would be in the woods with me for the evening hunt.  Everything seemed to go wrong.  I found out he was afraid of heights the hard way, but patiently, I assisted him into a lock-on stand with steps, explained the safety belt, strapped him in and climbed down.  I hooked his bow on the bow string and up and away the bow went.  While the bow was being pulled up by my son, I was watching all around me, trying to quiet down the woods, when {Wham}!!!!  My right hand was numb.  I looked at my hand and there was a deep cut to the bone on the top.  My son had almost had the bow in his stand when the bow string slipped.  The bow caught me square across my hand.  Seriously nervous and seeing the blood, my son asked if I was alright and maybe we should just go home and get the hand took care of.  He said he was so sorry and it just slipped, and…………  I assured my son everything was fine, helped him get the bow up the stand, and assured him he was ready to hunt.  “Don’t worry about me son, you just keep your eyes out for the big one.  I will be about 100 yards straight across the creek.”  I pointed with my other hand where I would be, wished him good luck, then started walking away from his stand. After crossing the creek and out of sight from Chase, I stopped and looked at the top of my right hand.  I was hurt pretty good, and I still couldn’t make a fist yet.

Not wanting to leave the woods with my son still in a stand, I elected to set up on a trail I knew of and wait it out.  I pulled off the climber from my shoulder and worried a little about if I could even use the stand to climb or not.  After setting up the stand at the bottom of the tree I picked out, we were going to find out if I could climb with one hand.  It actually wasn’t that bad.  Up the tree I went, got situated, smiled a little at how stupid I was to stand directly under my sons stand when he was raising his bow then shrugged it off as “my stupidity, my fault.” Now situated and seated in my stand, I wondered if I could even draw my bow back with the bum hand.  So, I stood up quietly, drew the bow and wow, man did that hurt.  I sat back down and thought once again, I hope a big buck goes by my son instead of me this evening.  Not real sure I could even draw again.

45 minutes later, about 6:05pm, I caught movement from over my right shoulder.  Yep, you guessed it.  It was a buck, but a very small buck.  Knowing that early in this season the bucks were still traveling together, I stood, turned and prepared.  Sure enough, 5 yards behind the 4 point, was a small basket 8 point.  Immediately I decided not to shoot this small 8.  To my surprise, directly on his heals was a really nice 8 point.  Now I was getting excited.  By the way, the first buck in front had walked directly under my stand and was now in front of my stand.  I drew slowly, aimed center mass of the shooting lane in a gap in the brush.  The small 8 point buck walked through the gap, and then “There he was”,  A fine 8 point standing in the gap.  Once again, I picked my area of hair behind the shoulder, quartered down, controlled the breathing, paused, and slowly squeezed the trigger release.

{Wham} I dropped him in his tracks.  I intended to penetrate spine, heart, and lung if possible again and sure enough, the broadhead did the work.  Can you believe this, 6 yards, another nice buck on the ground, just laying there.  I stood in amazement, I was shocked.  This was a really nice buck, pretty wide and may score as well.  The odd thing about this was, “dropped in his tracks.”  The very thing every hunter hopes for is to find the deer, or even better a swift and clean kill.  Well, not only did I find the deer three or four days ago, I found this one too.  I was like a dream.  Two 8 point bucks, both bow kills, both in the same week, both dropped in their tracks. I realized after a brief moment of silence, that my hand did not hurt anymore, and to make things even better, my son was on this hunt with me only 100 yards away. The two bucks that were in front of this one, there would be a good chance Chase saw them or even may get a shot.  But what will always cross my mind is how big was the buck that was still coming in from behind the buck I harvested.  I saw him jump when I released.  I climbed down and walked to Chases stand, walked cautiously up to the side of him and told him we had a good buck down.  Excited, he said he saw two bucks running and asked how big my buck was.  I told him, “well, I don’t know really, maybe you should help me track him”.  Chase was so excited when he walked up to my tree, buck in plain site.  “Man, I’m gonna get me a buck like that” I went to retrieve the 4-wheeler, we loaded the deer and headed to the house.  I was kind of in a hurry as the darkness was starting to set in, and I still needed to check this buck in too.  Arriving at our home on the mountain, my father stepped out on the deck and observed our approach.  My father had just come in from out of town that day to visit us for a week, so that was kind of cool him seeing me bring in another deer.  He was a big deer hunter with hunting skills that I always admired.

As far as the wife goes, she was so excited.  Not so much that I had gotten a nice buck, but that I had gotten two nice bucks with a bow in the first week of hunting season.  She rubbed it in real good to her two brothers whom still hadn’t harvested anything.  The next morning, as I watched the brother in laws roll out to the woods to deer hunt, I told them the same thing I always told them.  “Good luck and I hope you get a big one” Every bit of this is true, and I honestly believe this will be hard for me to beat next year.  After all, now my season just went from deer season, to “dear” season.  Being tagged out in the first week of bow season is a sure sign that honey-do’s will be a major part of the rest of my season.

Eleven year old Chelsea, AL resident, Katie, went hunting for the 1st time on the Youth Hunt day (11/14/2009) and bagged a 10 point buck!

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U.S. Hunting Today
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EDGEFIELD, S.C. — Since 1973, the National Wild Turkey Federation and its dedicated volunteers have worked with wildlife agencies to help successfully restore wild turkey populations in nearly all suitable habitat in North America. As the need to trap and transfer wild turkeys becomes less necessary, it is critically important to look toward the future of North America’s greatest game birds and work to make sure that future is bright.

“The comeback of the wild turkey is arguably one of the greatest conservation success stories in our nation’s history,” said Dr. James Earl Kennamer, NWTF’s senior vice president for conservation programs. “A lot of folks have asked what’s next for the wild turkey? The NWTF and its partners are ready for the next phase with the North American Wild Turkey Management Plan.”

In fact, the NWTF’s staff, grassroots volunteers, and agency partners have been working together to write the next chapter in the wild turkey success story. The Wild Turkey Management Plan will not only ensure the continued success of the wild turkey, but at the same time it will improve habitat for a multitude of wildlife and plant species, while also focusing on providing more opportunities and access for North America’s hunters.

“The North American Wild Turkey Management Plan is a compilation of plans that cover the United States, all Canadian provinces home to wild turkeys and selected areas of Mexico,” said Kennamer. “The plans will act as a guide to help wildlife management agencies and the NWTF’s dedicated volunteers target the most important habitat needs in their areas.”

The Wild Turkey Management Plan will ensure our volunteers can make informed decisions when spending their hard-earned Hunting Heritage Super Fund dollars to not only put them in the right places, but to make them go further with additional cooperator funds, Kennamer added.

Ensuring the wild turkey’s future is a tremendous challenge and the primary focus of the North American Wild Turkey Management Plan. Kennamer says this ambitious plan, which will be updated as needed, will not only ensure a bright future for wild turkeys through the 21st century, but will also conserve the flora, fauna and habitat that define its world.

“The plan will be dynamic and adaptable by constantly monitoring progress, balancing the social needs of people with the biological needs of wildlife, and will provide accurate and relevant science based support for wild turkey management,” he said.

According to NAWTMP Coordinator Mark Hatfield, working with non-government organizations, government agencies, corporations and other partners in conservation gives NWTF volunteers key opportunities not only to strengthen and improve habitat, but also to forge the relationships needed for across-the-board cooperation.

“Today, even the smallest habitat project requires the efforts of multiple partners whose very influence could have far-reaching effect on wild turkeys,” said Hatfield. For example, partnering with those who work with threatened and endangered species creates a win-win scenario that allows the NWTF to leverage Hunting Heritage Super Fund expenditures with Endangered Species Act dollars.”

The NWTF will continue to work with state wildlife agencies, the USDA’s Forest Service and Natural Resources Conservation Service, the U.S. Department of Interior’s Bureau of Land Management, U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service and numerous other partners to maintain turkey habitat on millions of acres of public and private properties across North America.

“The NWTF’s long-term relationships with these partners were key to the restoration of the wild turkey across the U.S., and having them on board is a blessing for the wild turkey’s future,” Kennamer said.

Making More Places to Hunt

The Wild Turkey Management Plan will focus not only on maintaining essential wild turkey habitat, but will identify areas that NWTF’s state and local chapters can help fund projects to improve hunting access.

“Studies by the National Shooting Sports Foundation indicate that one of the top reasons hunters give up the sport is that they can’t find places to hunt,” said Kennamer. “Losing a place is not trivial. The ripple effect from such losses are immense.”

Kennamer added, as hunter numbers decline, state agencies lose revenue used to support habitat and places to hunt. Without habitat and places to hunt, wild turkeys and hunters lose again. Without changes, the cycle will slowly feed itself until there are no places to hunt, no hunters, and ultimately, no turkeys.

For years, the NWTF has worked to improve access to hunting lands with great success. At both local and national levels, the NWTF and its volunteers have developed partnerships with landowners, and worked with state and federal agencies to help improve hunter access. As part of the North American Wild Turkey Management Plan, the NWTF will continue to fight for increased hunter access through the More Places to Hunt initiative.

More Places to Hunt is a new NWTF program designed to help provide more hunting land on both public and private property. The NWTF already has spent nearly $9 million and obtained more than 400,000 acres for hunting since 1987.

However, this new program’s objective is to find out specifically what hunters need in regard to access, incorporate their needs into the Wild Turkey Management Plan, and build upon NWTF chapters’ successes and allow the NWTF to better cooperate with partners to accomplish even more.

The Federation’s chapters have already experienced tremendous success in affecting hunter access in a variety of ways, including significant land acquisitions such as those in South Carolina, Iowa, Ohio, West Virginia and North Carolina; funding conservation easements that provide public access in Montana; funding a walk-in hunting area program in Kansas; holding landowner appreciation days in Wisconsin; and active involvement in legislative issues.

Press Release courtesy of: The National Wild Turkey Federation

Water flows freely through the three pipes of a beaver impeder on Wednesday as Skip Hilliker fastens part of the device around a breach made in a beaver dam on a pond in Pequot Woods in Groton. Hilliker and a crew from the Humane Society of the United States installed the device to ease flooding caused by the beavers’ dam.

Groton

IT TURNS OUT YOU CAN FOOL most of the beavers most of the time, and that’s a good thing both for these infamously industrious rodents and for humans who love their wild neighbors.

On Wednesday morning a device of deception called a beaver impeder was installed at Pequot Woods park by a team from the Connecticut chapter of the Humane Society of the United States as a solution to a problem that threatened the continued peaceful co-existence of hikers and beavers at the park.

Watch a slideshow of the installation of a Beaver Impeder

”These devices are ingenious in their simplicity, and also in their effectiveness,” said Sean Guinan, urban wildlife program coordinator for the Humane Society, wearing still-dripping waders from the morning’s work with Skip Hilliker, the impeder installer.

A family of beavers that lives in a lodge at one side of a small pond within the park had, as beavers instinctively do, dammed up the channel where the pond flows into Fishtown Brook. The dam did its job of keeping the water level high enough in the pond so that the entrance to the lodge would be under water and protected from predators like coyotes, but it also flooded the main trail through the park, turning it into more of a sluiceway than a walkway.

The town had been searching for a solution, including relocating the beavers, but soon learned that the state hasn’t allowed beavers to be relocated for a decade because all available beaver habitat is occupied. That left the town with two options: trap and kill the beavers or find a way to learn to live with them.

That’s when the Humane Society, prompted by calls from many who read about the beaver problem in The Day, came to the rescue. Laura Simon, field director for the Humane Society’s urban wildlife program, said there are about 60 impeders throughout the state.

”They have a very high success rate, about 89 percent,” said Simon.“We keep telling people trapping doesn’t work. The population will control itself.”

The impeders fail, she said, when owners forget to clean them out – a five-minute job that needs to be done a few times a year – or through vandalism. The vandalism usually occurs, she said, when people mistake the impeder for a beaver trap. She has recommended the town post a sign in the park about the impeder so that misguided animal lovers don’t dismantle it.

The device, paid for with about $800 in town funds, consists of three 20-foot lengths of flexible pipe to carry the water flow under the dam and into the brook, and a wire cage covering the opening of the pipes to block debris. Designed to take advantage of instinctual beaver behavior, the impeders work because the animals will tend to build the dam bigger on top of the device, thereby securing it further.

”They go and build when they feel water moving, but that just helps cement the pipes in place,” said Simon.“This site is a typical dam where we feel this device will really work well.”

The installation took just a couple of hours, with most of the time and labor spent on muscling out a large enough space through the center of the dam for the pipes. To do this, Hilliker climbed on top of the dam to remove sticks and twigs by hand, and Guinan waded into waist-high water to attack the wall of muck with a potato fork.

”It’s pretty thick,” Guinan said.“They really pack it in.”

Once the pipe was situated and anchored, the team buried it under the sticks and muck they had just removed. As soon as the dam was breached and the pipes in place, water from the pond began rushing through into the brook.

As for the beavers – Simon said there are probably a male and female in the lodge with two to four yearlings and a new litter due within the next few weeks – they stayed hidden when all the activity was taking place. Probably, though, they would emerge around dusk and again today just after dawn, the times beavers are most active.

”They’ll be here, checking it out” and fixing their dam back the way they like it, said Simon.

j.benson@theday.com

Brian Andrews, left, and his dad, Randy Andrews, of Independence, Iowa, with the 26-point mounted whitetail before it was stolen from the Andrews home in 2004.

What began as a story about a young Iowa hunter taking a world-class whitetail deer with outdated archery equipment has evolved into one with a price tag and a plea for help.

In 2003, 16-year-old Brian Andrews of Independence, Iowa, wanted to go bow hunting but didn’t own a bow. He borrowed some outdated archery gear from his sister’s boyfriend and started practicing. After several unsuccessful hunts the next fall, Andrews shot a whitetail buck in Buchanan County, Iowa, that scored 253 1/8 net Boone and Crockett Club points that made it the non-typical state record and the world’s No 2 bow-taken whitetail that year. Andrews’ buck sported 26 points.

Sometime between 8-10 p.m. on June 18, 2004, Andrews’ mounted whitetail buck was stolen from his family’s home.

Bass Pro Shops announced Friday it is offering a $5,000 gift card to anyone with information leading to the return of Andrews’ buck and the arrest and conviction of the person or persons who stole it.

The Andrews family and the Buchanan County Wildlife Association Inc. also are offering a $5,000 cash reward for the same results.

The Bass Pro Shops reward came after a request from Illinois outdoor writer Les Davenport, who has been investigating the theft of Andrews’ buck along with several other thefts of Iowa trophy whitetails

“It is our hope by doing this, someone will come forward with information that will finally get Brian’s buck back where it belongs,” Bass Pro Shops communications manager Larry Whiteley said in a statement issued Friday. “Maybe with Les bringing attention to all of the other stolen Iowa bucks, too, it will help get some of these other magnificent animals back to their rightful owners.”

At least 12 other Iowa trophy whitetail mounts have been reported stolen since 2003.

Anyone with information about Andrews’ buck is asked to contact the Buchanan County Sheriffs Department in Independence, Iowa, at 319-334-2567.

By BOB HOOD

blhood@star-telegram.com>

Carothers was hunting in southeast Dane County the day after Thanksgiving when he saw three whitetail deer on a neighbor’s land. Fifteen minutes later, he heard a shot. Awhile later, he saw three deer appear back on the land he was hunting. Carothers noticed one of the deer was limping and a brought it down with a round from his 12 gauge.

“I waited a while for someone coming up the blood trail, because we have an agreement that we can track deer we shoot onto the neighbor’s land and they can do it on the land we hunt,” Carothers said.

Several minutes later, Carothers tagged the doe and was about to field dress it when Mike Wolff of Janesville and his son, Haydn, came along. Wolff asked Carothers where the deer had been shot, and Carothers said he turned over the animal to see it had been hit with a “killing shot, but it just was able to keep going.”

Carothers learned that Haydn was on his first hunt and had fired first at the doe.

“I just said the deer was his. It was a great experience seeing that father and son out on their first hunt,” Carothers said.

Mike Wolff said Carothers then cut his tag off the deer, which made Haydn “ecstatic.”

“… From a sportsman’s point of view, it was a very honorable thing that Dennis did and a good lesson for Haydn,” Wolff said.

The incident rekindled fond memories for Carothers who was 13 when he began hunting with his father. He now regularly hunts with his son, Dennis Jr., 30.

“Some people may think hunting is just about the shooting but it isn’t for me. It’s the relationships and time you get to spend doing something with people who you like having around,” said Carothers, a unit manager at Kuhn Manufacturing in Brodhead.

After giving Haydn the doe, Carothers didn’t get another deer last gun season, but he didn’t mind as Dennis Jr. took one by bow and another by gun last year.

Carothers’ unselfish act represents what the DNR wants to spotlight with the Ethical Hunter Award now in its 11th year, said Conservation Warden Steven Dewald of La Crosse.

“The theme of the award is hunters engaging in activities that reflect positively on the tradition of hunting,” Dewald said. “Rather than pursuing personal gain, Dennis set a positive example of helping out another hunter rather than thinking of himself.”

Dewald will present Carothers with a plaque at today’s DNR board meeting.

Asked what he’ll say when presented with the award, Carothers wants to thank the DNR and landowners he knows for the many hunting opportunities they have provided.

“Hunting is a privilege not a right but it’s only worthwhile if you have the place to hunt, and I appreciate everyone who allows me and my family the places to enjoy it in,” he said.

By KEVIN MURPHY/SPECIAL TO THE GAZETTE

BURNSVILLE – Jerrell Keele knew his turkey had a pretty good beard on him when he shot him last month. He could see the black hairs hanging from the gobbler’s neck when he shot him from 37 yards away.

But the 67-year-old Burnsville resident didn’t realize that the 17.28-pound turkey actually had seven beards and scored enough points to make it a state record in the nontypical division.

There were so many beards that the registration form had to be altered.

“The form only has room to write in six beards for each turkey,” said Keele, whose turkey scored 151.155 points. “Jerry Hazlewood (the Northeast Region wildlife biologist) wrote in the seventh beard on the side of the form.”

Nothing too unusual
Extra beards on Tishomingo County turkeys apparently weren’t unusual, Keele said.

“No, I hadn’t seen him before, but I knew there had been some up in there” in the hunting club property, he said. “I had seen one with three beards, and another one had four beards. Really, it’s just something that’s handed down from one generation to the next.”

Keele started hunting turkeys in 1994 after his brother, Denvil Keele of Russellville, Ala., introduced him to the sport. The Mississippi Keele learned the basics from his Alabama brother.

“A lot of turkey hunting I learned on my own,” Jerrell Keele said. “Mostly by trial and error. Now, my brother got into that trial-and-error thing back when Ben Lee was making turkey calls.”

Lee, of Coffeeville, Ala., was a five-time national champion turkey caller.

‘Hooked’
Jerrell said his brother warned him about turkey calling.

“He said when you go turkey hunting, you will definitely get hooked,” he said. “I knew it was going to take thousands of dollars and hundreds of hours out of my life.”

Keele, who said he has only 25 percent pulmonary functions after a heart attack three years ago, gave credit for divine support.

“That heart attack liked to killed me because I didn’t get to hunt turkeys that year,” he said. “A lot of people would have just sat down and whined. But I believe the Lord will help a fellow who wants to help himself. So I kept trying.”

So, armed with a Remington Super Mag 12-gauge pump shotgun – along with a defibrillator and a pacemaker – Keele found his record turkey early March 17.

“I let out a flydown cackle, and I heard a bird gobble on a ridge about 15 minutes to 7,” he said. “I did four or five more yelps and he jumped on that. So I put out the decoy. He saw that and had to come on.”

The turkey, however, had obstacles.

“He had to come across two ditches to get in range, and I knew he was going to get tangled up in there,” Keele said. “He never gobbled anymore, and I didn’t either. I didn’t wait until he got really close.”

Keele said he took the record bird to Belmont taxidermist Paul Witt for mounting.

BY BUSTER WOLFE
Daily Journal

So, according to his will, his ashes were packed into shotgun shells. Soon, a couple of dozen pals will raise their firearms, pull the triggers and thunder Terry’s ashes across a lake.

“He wanted to go out hunting,” says pal Mike.

Mike, 58, lives in Peoria Heights. He met Terry, a Missouri gent nearly 20 years his senior, through their work in the insurance industry. Terry did booming business. In fact, in his self-penned obituary, Terry called himself “the greatest salesman in the world.”

Though he worked only six months a year, he was a millionaire. He plowed profits into land in rural eastern Missouri, where he set up hunting grounds. There, he also created a 15-acre lake, which he stocked with fish. He dubbed it Turkey Lake, for all the wild fowl dashing about.

He’d also hunt and fish all over North America, often taking along Mike and other pals. Mike’s living room boasts a black bear taken in Manitoba. But that’s nothing compared to Terry’s house in Missouri, where nearly every inch of wall space displays mounts of sheep, mountain goats, moose, elk, turkeys, deer and quail.

But Terry hunted not just for wall trophies.

“All he ate was what he hunted,” Mike says.

They’d also often head to the Florida Keys to seek red snapper. The next such foray was on Terry’s mind in November when he got harsh news from his doctor: brain cancer. And it was moving fast.

When he told Mike, Terry asked, “Will you take me to the Keys one more time?”

Terry said he might not be able to help with some chores, such as driving his own boat.

“I can’t hold on to things,” Terry said. “I keep dropping things.”

Mike said he’d make it all work, even allow Terry to fish with weakened hands. Mike said he’d outfit Terry with thick gloves, then use duct tape to affix a pole in Terry’s hands. Terry liked that idea.

But it didn’t happen. Quickly, Terry’s health nose-dived.

“I can’t go,” he told Mike in mid-December.

So, Mike went to visit Terry one last time. Terry died in January, at age 76.

Mike got the news in a phone call from one of Terry’s sons. But there would be no funeral.

“He was just that way,” Mike says, shrugging his shoulders.

But weeks later, Mike received an invitation from Terry’s family in Missouri. It explained Terry’s wish to have his ashes blasted over the lake, during a party planned by Terry. The invite included a poem by Terry, which closes:

So drink my booze and eat my food, for good time’s sake,

and shoot my ashes in the Turkey Lake.

Notice that this tale has no surnames. Mike and Terry’s survivors worry about the ash blast violating environmental laws. So I asked the Missouri Department of Natural Resources about open-air interment of remains via shotgun.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had that asked before,” a spokeswoman said. “I don’t think we’d have any regulations on it.”

Regardless, Terry’s place is in the middle of nowhere. So I doubt anyone would even note the shotgun blasts.

But Terry’s friends will. They’ll remember this forever.

By: PHIL LUCIANO – columnist with the Journal Star

MILWAUKIE, Ore. – A couple of Milwaukie High School students made a bizarre discovery on the way to school Tuesday morning.

Nicco Phillips and Lexi Eads found an exotic animal hopping around their neighborhood.

At first, they thought it was a little deer or maybe a small kangaroo but after making some calls, they found out it is actually a Patagonian Cavy, the world’s fourth largest rodent.

If someone doesn’t come forward to claim the Cavy, the students say they will keep the animal. It is legal to keep them as pets.

I was just as skeptical about the existence of a white deer. Then, a few weeks after the encounter, my daughter and her friend saw it crossing our road on a fogbound night. They described it as ghostly, but I knew then that it was real.

I yearned for a glimpse of the phantom creature. It’s not often someone who’s lived as long as I have gets to witness something entirely new without leaving home.

A family of whitetails dines regularly on our three-acre plot, mostly on expensive mail-order plants. In cold weather they dare to come closer to the house to ravage our juniper bushes, their snack of last resort. A too-young-to-know-better fawn had the audacity to munch on hemlock branches just inches from the back door.

Still, I waited in vain for a white deer sighting.

I could hear gunshots coming from the woods. A white deer would stand out like an electronic billboard. I lost hope that it would survive hunting season.

Snow fell. Domestic life turned inward. The only wildlife we paid attention to was the occasional white-footed mouse scurrying across the ceiling of our crooked old colonial house.

Then one evening at dusk, I was chopping onions when I glanced out. Six deer were grazing on the wettest part of the lawn. One of them was white.

Not albino white; this deer had a few brown markings, as if he’d been shooed away with a bucket of bleach. His eyes were brown, not red. His ears were trimmed in black. He looked smaller than his companions, more like a goat or a small pony. Yet the other deer seemed to accept the odd-looking animal, even though its presence surely is dangerous for the herd.

My heart pounding, I tiptoed toward my camera, wary that a creaky floorboard or flash of movement would scare them away. I quietly lowered the window, thankful that we had replaced its squeaky, paint-stuck predecessor with a sash that glides. A lilac bush served as the perfect blind. I shot away for half an hour. The darker it got, the longer the lens stayed open and the more ethereal the white deer appeared.

I’ve since learned that it was a piebald deer, not as rare as an albino but a phenomenon seldom observed. The gene that produces this anomaly is recessive, so chances are good this was the same deer that was spotted in the neighborhood months ago. Piebald deer are thought to represent as little as 1 percent of the population.

I hope he bucks the odds and survives, even if he raids our garden. I’ve never seen anything as thrilling in 35 years of living in rural Connecticut, not even the wild turkey in full romantic regalia who courted his mate on my patio.

I feel so lucky to live in a place where such encounters are still possible, and still humbling.

By: DARYL PERCH – EDITORIAL REPORTER

Courant.com