We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
Readers know that I like to hunt on the northern end of Lake Winnipegosis in the first week of October. Having just returned from a 2-week trip to Europe, I couldn't really do another week so soon. Thus Gwynnie and some other Maggie's Farm pals are up there without me.
Here's the old private duck hunting club where we stay. It's an old log structure with rough clapboard covering. Open only 6 weeks per year. Females not allowed except for the cook and housekeeper. It's 13 miles from the nearest "town," which consists of a tiny old general store (duct tape, chewing gum, cigarettes, batteries, work gloves, wool hats, rope, Coco Puffs, milk), a liquor store, and a gas station, all on one dirt parking area. Mostly Indians up there, and some Ukrainian farmers.
One of the equipment shacks - a 100 year-old log cabin:
Where I am not, but where I would love to be this week. Up in Manitoba, climbing out of a lumpy old bed into the frigid room, layering one's clothing, covering it all with camo, scarfing down a quick coffee and maybe a brandy and an apple or something, loading some ammo into the ammo boxes, and getting those duck boat engines running in the frosty morning and heading out onto Lake Winnepegosis to match wits with the migrating ducks (who are famously smarter than humans).
I think Gwynnie will retrieve some photos for us...
That's King Buck on the 1959 Federal Duck Stamp. A great champion, and the prize of avid sportsman John Olin's Nilo Kennels.
In 1931 the Olin chemical and ammo company bought the bankrupt Winchester Repeating Arms company, and still owns the trademark for the firearms and makes the ammo.
The story of Winchester is the sad story of manufacturing and unions in the Northeast. From the Wiki:
By the 60's the cost of skilled labor was making it increasingly difficult profitably to produce Winchester's classic designs, incorporating as they did considerable hand-work. In particular, Winchester's flagship Model 12 pump shotgun and Model 70 bolt-action rifle with their machined forgings could no longer compete in price with Remington's cast-and-stamped 870 and 721. Accordingly S. K. Janson formed a new Winchester design group to advance the use of "modern" engineering design methods and manufacturing principles in gun design. The result was a new line of guns which replaced most of the older products in 1963-64. Unfortunately the reaction of the shooting press and public was overwhelmingly negative: the popular verdict was that Winchester had sacrificed quality to the "cheapness experts,"[1] and market share continued to decline as Winchester was no longer considered to be a prestige brand. Gun collectors consider "post-64" Winchesters to be both less desirable and less valuable than their predecessors.
Labor costs continued to rise, and a prolonged and bitter strike in 1979-80 convinced Olin that firearms could no longer be produced profitably in New Haven. Therefore in December 1980 the plant was sold to its employees, incorporated as the U.S. Repeating Arms Company, together with a licence to make Winchester arms. Olin retained the Winchester ammunition business.
From 1981 until 2006, Winchester guns were made by the U.S. Repeating Arms Company. When U.S. Repeating Arms went bankrupt in 1989 it was acquired by a French holding company, then sold to an arms making cartel sponsored by the Belgian Herstal Group, which also owns gun makers Fabrique National (FN) and Browning.
On January 16, 2006 U.S. Repeating Arms announced it was closing the New Haven, Connecticut, plant where Winchester rifles and shotguns were produced for 140 years.[1] Along with the closing of the plant, the Model 94 rifle (the descendant of the original Winchester rifle), Model 70 rifle and Model 1300 shotgun would be discontinued.
On August 15, 2006, Olin Corporation, owner of the Winchester trademarks, announced that it had entered into a new license agreement with Browning to make Winchester brand rifles and shotguns, though not at the closed Winchester plant in New Haven. Browning, based in Morgan, Utah, and the former licensee, U.S. Repeating Arms Company, are both subsidiaries of FN Herstal. In 2008 FN Herstal announced that it would produce Model 70 rifles at its plant in Columbia, SC.
It's interesting to read the histories of companies. Here's the history of the Olin Corp, which still makes Winchester ammo. I had the pleasure of meeting some good folks from the company recently.
Postal socks! Letter carriers of the Postal Service have extreme needs for quality socks, and I found them by accident while looking for hiking socks on the Thor-Lo company website.
Got some before I left on my trip. I tend to walk a great deal.
This photo was on the morning of the 4th, before I got the rest of my hosed-down camo life jackets and my vast assortment of hosed-clean blaze-orange shooting stuff, some waxed and some not, hanging up on this thing to be dried and refreshed in the sunshine.
That basement flood was rough on my gear (much of which was on or near the floor), and it all needed a serious, high-powered hosing-down -not a washing machine. It got most of the mold and dirt out, but everything needed a good long sunshine treatment.
Maybe I need a real outdoor clothes line, like my Mom has. She hates to sleep on sheets that have not hung in the New England sun, summer or winter. That old Yankee gal believes that sun on your sheets gives you good dreams, and the thick scent of the Berkshire wild thyme helps.
Bird Dog - Spent Friday morning fishing for striped bass with Pops and Mother's cousin. Caught our limit of six fish greater than 28 inches in about five hours. We fished out of Groton (and off Fisher's Island), aboard "The Otter" with Captain Bruce of www.captainbrucesportfishing.com.
The weather turned out fine, with moderate swells and no rain. Limited visibility kept most other boats in port. We trolled surgical hose with sandworms and our largest fish was 26 pounds, caught by Pops. We had three more striped bass, too small to keep and one bluefish, which Pops claims he will make into fishcakes.
With the 25+ pounds of filets, a great time was had by all.
People join PETA because they think they understand the relationship between man and nature better than a guy who goes out in a rice paddy, at night, with a spear, to kill the feral hogs that are trying to eat every last grain.
That's your hard-working Editor in the background, fishing in Connecticut in the Spring rain a couple of years ago. It's time to review some of our good trout posts from the past.
I know it's a cheap shot which is beneath Maggie's dignity, but that photo (Caption This) from Wizbang isn't a person walking a dog: it's a dog walking a person. I just use the photo to make the point that, in general, it only takes about 3 hours (9 20-minute lessons at 2-3/day) to train a pup to heel (his nose at your left knee), and it will never forget with regular reinforcement of the lesson. Nobody wants to be seen in public with a dog that will not heel because it's a reflection on you, like a kid that throws food. Pinch collar and dog yummies. An untrained dog means you don't really care about the animal, same as an uncivilized kid. In the Obama's defence, that is a darn good-looking PWD (if a bit older than the ideal 6-9 weeks), but any dog can be easily trained. Obedience is what they are bred for. It just takes a few minutes and a little firmness. The training is the real bonding. Train that dog the way you train the Dems in Congress. Sit! Heel! Vote!
Government should bail out dying media. Brilliant! Just like Chavez. Or Pravda. Put 'em on the gummint payroll and they will play nice, like the BBC and the CBC.
Treasury "allows" bank to return TARP funds; bank complains about changing the rules. Duh. Take their money and you're on their plantation.
An old pro like Barack Obama has to be more amused by these protests than worried about them. The left is laughing for a reason.
If the right wants to succeed in civil resistance, it needs to study the tactics of the left and adopt the methods that are not incompatible with its own morality.
On the weekend before trout season opens, our hunting and fishing club Chairman, the Fishing Chairman, and our manager perform the annual ritual of walking the length of our stream checking the beats, the conditions of the pools and of the paths, and generally making sure that things are up to snuff. We have a mile of this stream in CT, with some larger ponds and beaver marshes in it.
This was Friday, on a narrow section of the stream -
When I was a kid, my babysitter would take me fishing for Blue Crabs off the dock. What it required was a string with a hunk of bacon tied to the end. When you gently pulled it up to just below the surface, you needed a crab net to scoop up the crabs clinging to the bacon. Otherwise, they would let go of the bacon.
My Mom was never disappointed to find a bucket of two dozen crabs when she got home.
We have posted, somewhat disparagingly, about the Blue Crab's natural history and the Blue Crab as dining material, (too much effort, basically) but we never have disparaged good Maryland crab cakes, especially when consumed in volume with volumes of bad beer in low-life Maryland tatoo pubs with dogs walking around, after a day of duck hunting.
The subject comes up because we noticed projects about the aquaculture of Blue Crabs. Very cool. Fresh water? Who would have thought it?
What a clever country we are. Speaking of clever people, Sippican sends this recipe:
CRAB CAKES 1/2 stick (1/4 cup) unsalted butter, melted and cooled 4 large eggs, beaten lightly 6 tablespoons sour cream 1/4 cup minced fresh parsley leaves (preferably flat-leafed) 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice 1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce 1 teaspoon paprika 1/2 teaspoon salt, or to taste 1/4 teaspoon cayenne, or to taste 2 pounds lump crab meat, picked over 2 cups fine fresh bread crumbs 1/3 cup cornmeal 1/2 cup vegetable oil
tarragon tartar sauce as an accompaniment lemon wedges as an accompaniment
In a bowl whisk together the butter, the eggs, the sour cream, the pa rsley, the lemon juice, the Worcestershire sauce, the paprika, the salt, and the cayenne and stir in the crab meat and the bread crumbs gently. Form 1/2-cup measures of the mixture into twelve 3/4-inch-thick cakes and transfer the crab cakes as they are formed to a baking sheet sprinkled with half the cornmeal. Sprinkle the crab cakes with the remaining cornmeal and chill them, covered with plastic wrap, for at least 1 hour or overnight.
In a large heavy skillet heat the oil over moderately high heat until it is hot but not smoking and in it sauté the crab cakes in batches, turning them once, for 3 to 4 minutes on each side, or until they are golden, transferring them as they are cooked to paper towels to drain. Keep the crab cakes warm on another baking sheet in a 200°F. oven. Serve the crab cakes with the tarragon tartar sauce and the lemon wedges. Makes about 12 crab cakes, serving 6.
I'd skip the bread crumbs. They dilute the crab meat.
And here's a post about Hoagy Carmichael Jr., who is apparently a great fisherman of the Grand Cascapedia, and who is responsible for the renaissance of the split-bamboo fly rod, at Never Yet Melted.
The photo of Amber is to highlight a fine site for fly fishermen, Bamboo Fly Rod. net. Nope, that site is defunct, but we hope Amber isn't. This site has good info on casting with, and the care of, bamboo rods.
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Postal socks! 
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I know it's a cheap shot which is beneath Maggie's dignity, but that photo (
When I was a kid, my babysitter would take me fishing for Blue Crabs off the dock. What it required was a string with a hunk of bacon tied to the end. When you gently pulled it up to just below the surface, you needed a crab net to scoop up the crabs clinging to the bacon. Otherwise, they would let go of the bacon.
It's time to think about what fun, expensive, and unnecessary gear we might be wanting to play with this spring.