Wade in the water

Summertime conditions often put various bodies of water at very low levels. Some rivers and streams that were great for floating and fishing in the Spring and earlier Summer can become very difficult to navigate, even with shallow running crafts. In some streams, during late Summer conditions, you could end up dragging your boat or canoe more than you ride in it. This doesn’t mean we have to stop fishing. Give wading a try.

Wading and fishing is a great relaxing way to spend some time on a hot Summer’s day. It can also be very productive. If an angler has floated and fished a section of a river or stream multiple times, they usually find certain locations along the way to be much better fishing. By wading, and not covering as much distance as they would when floating through, an angler can slow things down and fish a known good area much more thoroughly. That’s not to say that we can’t stop and give extra attention to the best spots on a float, but the reality often is that we need to keep moving to get to the take-out point at the other end, especially if low water conditions are slowing us down.

For Summertime wading we don’t really need any specialized clothing or gear. There is no need for hip boots or chest waders. A pair or swim trunks or shorts works just fine. There is also no need for any type of special wading boots or shoes. An old pair of sneakers, crocs, or canvas river shoes is all we need for footwear. Polarized sunglasses are nice, as they help us see the bottom much better, and sometimes even locate fish.

Anglers often concentrate on the deeper holes, but the oxygenated areas just below riffles, and anywhere cold springs feed into the river can be especially good during hot weather.

Another fishing technique that can be very fun and productive under these conditions, is something I think of as “hybrid wading.” We will take a small boat, raft, or canoe to the river with us, but are not going to ride it downstream to a take-out point. We sometimes paddle a short distance up or down stream in order to get out and fish certain spots. But usually the “boat” is just pulled along or anchored to make it easier to carry extra rods, tackle, coolers, phones, cameras, etc.

My buddy Tim Stapleton often ties a small inflatable raft to his belt and simply tows it and all of his gear along with him as he fishes. I prefer to use a small square back, flat bottomed canoe, that I usually pull out into the river and anchor. This also gives me the option of getting in and paddling for short distances if needed. If you take any kind of craft into the water, be sure to check and follow all boating rules and regulations regarding the use of life preservers etc.

Don’t stay home just because the water in your favorite river or stream is too low to float from your usual put in to take out. Find access to some of the areas that you normally like to fish when you do float through. If there is no public access nearby, meet with landowners to see if you can secure permission. Wading in your favorite spots can lead to some great fishing. Besides, even if the fish don’t cooperate, there are worse ways to spend a hot Summer day than splashing around in the water. Get out there and enjoy your Summer!

Wade Shambaugh has lived in Morgan County his whole life and is a lifelong outdoorsman.

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This is the latest in a multi-part series of columns about memorable deer that stand out from decades of whitetail hunting.

Tripod

In the late 1980’s, my buddy Austin “Dump” Brown and I were regularly hunting a property owned by a friend near Paw Paw. In early Fall, while scouting, we saw a buck with a very pronounced limp. After getting a better look at him, we realized he was missing his left front leg below the knee, probably from being shot the year before, or having been struck by a vehicle. We immediately decided that we would try to take this buck.

A short time later, the first week of West Virginia bow season in October, I had a chance at him. I was hunting with another of our friends, Phil Guard, in the same area where Dump and I had seen the three-legged buck. Phil and I were hunting about 40 yards apart on a ridgetop where deer often crossed in the morning when they left a nearby orchard. This was a technique we used quite a bit back then. With two hunters set up 40 yards apart, a deer was not likely to pass between us without offering a shot at 20 yards or less to one of the hunters. We also tried to make sure we could shoot 20 yards off to either side of our positions. That way we could cover 80 yards of a good crossing area without anyone needing to shoot more than 20 yards. It was a method that had paid off for us many times.

On this morning, we could see a group of does coming up the side of the ridge. As planned, they passed between us, unaware of our presence. Following a short distance behind, was the injured buck. Instead of following the does, he stopped, looked around, and calmly turned to his left, heading down a trail running parallel to the ridge instead of crossing over it.

He came into an open area through the trees and paused. I estimated him to be at about 30 yards from my position. I drew my bow, settled my sight pin right where I wanted it, smoothly released an arrow…and missed.

The open area through the trees had fooled me on the distance. I had estimated him at 30 yards. He was closer to 40. My arrow sailed harmlessly just under his rib cage right behind his right front leg. He bolted away down the ridge. I noticed that he did not limp when he ran. We hunted the property a lot through the rest of October and early November. We never saw him again during that time.

The first day of rifle season, the Monday before Thanksgiving, he was sighted again. My Dad was driving out just before first light to watch a powerline right of way on the same property we had been hunting. Before he got to the property, Dad saw a buck that was missing a front leg, limping back across the orchard, headed the other way. With all the hunters in the woods for opening day of gun season, the buck had likely seen, heard, or smelled people in the woods he normally travelled through in the morning. He simply turned around and slipped away. We never saw him again during gun season.

Then, in December, Dump and I were hunting West Virginia’s muzzle loader season. By this time, Dump had started calling this cagey buck Tripod. He didn’t say a whole lot, but I knew Dump was hunting for this buck. It was brutally cold, with snow on the ground. Dump was in a stand very near to where I had missed Tripod during early bow season. Shortly after daylight, a doe came by the stand and headed down the ridge. A few moments later, Dump could see a deer coming with a distinct limp. With one well-placed shot from an  old side hammer muzzle loader, the saga of Tripod was over.

Although he didn’t have a huge set of antlers, this buck was a true trophy to take under those conditions. He had managed to survive through bow and gun seasons, in a heavily hunted area, without even being seen for long periods of time. He earned our respect and finally met his end at the hands of a good hunter, hunting in very harsh conditions, with a primitive weapon. He lives on in our memories as Tripod, a true survivor.

Wade Shambaugh has lived in Morgan County his whole life and is a lifelong outdoorsman.

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This is the latest in a multi-part series of columns about memorable deer that stand out from decades of whitetail hunting.

The Second Day Buck

Opening day of West Virginia deer firearms season is a yearly event that I have looked forward to since before I was old enough to even carry a gun. It is still one of my favorite days of the year. I’ve missed very few of them in the last 50 years or so. But sometimes other things in life have taken priority.

In the mid 1990’s, my daughter, Caitlin Shambaugh, was a little girl  struggling with some health problems. She was having a lot of cold/sinus issues, ear infections, and had even had pneumonia several times. Her pediatrician recommended she have her tonsils removed and tubes put in her ears to help correct these problems. So, the surgery was scheduled for — you guessed it — opening day of deer season! I definitely would not be hunting that day, or even thinking about it. Even though I was convinced that the procedure was the best course of action, and low risk, I was terrified for Caitlin to have this surgery.

Thankfully, the procedure was very successful, and later proved to be extremely helpful for her. She was only in the hospital for one night, was released the next morning, and happily settled in back home by 11 a.m.

With deer season in, and things all secure at home, by about 11:30 that morning, I grabbed my gear and was headed for the woods.

It was a mild, sunny afternoon for late November. It seemed like I had no sooner gotten settled into my stand when I spotted a big doe walking slowly along a trail on the ridge across from me. Following the doe, was a nice 8-point buck. My old 77 Ruger barked, and the buck dropped on the spot. When I looked at my watch, it was just before 1 p.m. I had been in the woods for less than an hour.

I vividly remember the overwhelming emotions of that moment. Of course, I had tremendous feelings of gratitude that things had gone so well for my little girl. I also felt very fortunate to be able to get into the woods so soon.  I felt even more fortunate to have been blessed so quickly with such a nice buck, after missing opening day.

Many different things can make a hunt memorable — an exceptional animal, beautiful country, good luck, bad luck, etc. But if a person lives the outdoor lifestyle, sometimes events surrounding a hunt can leave even more of an impression than the hunt itself. In this case, hunting, or taking a deer, was not a priority until much more important things were resolved. But as soon as everyone was doing well at home, the hunt was back on. It really is a way of life for many folks.

I will always remember the range of emotions I felt during the events leading up to that hunt and will always feel especially grateful for The Second Day Buck.

Wade Shambaugh has lived in Morgan County his whole life and is a lifelong outdoorsman.

The post Everyday Outdoors: Bucks I have known, Part XIII appeared first on Morgan Messenger.

This is the latest in a multi-part series of columns about memorable deer that stand out from decades of whitetail hunting.

The Suitor Buck

In the late 1990’s I was bow hunting on a friend’s property near Paw Paw. I was sitting in a “chain on” portable tree stand, high in an oak tree. The stand location was about 40 yards from the edge of a field, just south of the intersection of two steep hollows leading to the corner of the field from known deer bedding areas to the north and east. Deer often hung out in the area around the stand, to feed on acorns, before entering the field in the late afternoon. The prevailing west wind usually made this a great spot to sit, as the stand kept deer that were coming into the field from either bedding area from picking up a hunter’s scent, even when they passed by very closely.

It was November 13th, and the whitetail deer rut was in full swing. I watched several deer approach from the east and begin milling around in front of my stand.

One thing that was interesting to watch was the interaction between a nice mature doe and a small spike buck. From the little buck’s actions, it was obvious that the doe was in some state of estrous. He repeatedly approached her and it appeared that he was trying to breed with her. The big doe wasn’t having any of his advances. She would whirl around to face him, and even struck him with her front hooves to chase him away.

As I was watching this play out, I noticed another deer approaching from the north, the only deer to come from that direction. The hollow in which this deer was travelling dropped down steeply from the corner of the field, so I was looking down at this deer from a considerable height. This also meant that he could not see the other deer at the edge of the field, and they could not see him, but I could see all of them.

This buck then stopped and went through the full ritual of making a scrape. He pawed out a spot in the leaves, while working an overhead branch, then urinated across the scent glands located on his back legs into the bare dirt he had exposed. This was first time I had ever gotten to observe this magnificent spectacle. He then came strutting and posturing up the hollow to the area where the other deer were.

The spike buck, which the doe had chased away, was standing about 30 yards from the other deer, He immediately left the area when the big buck came into view.

The doe then approached the big buck. When they came nose to nose, she veered off to her left, with the him following. After just a few yards, she paused and let the big buck mount and breed her. After repeatedly driving off the small buck, she had obviously picked her suitor.

All of the deer then moved forward towards the field, with the big buck bringing up the rear. I made a clean shot on him at about 12 or 13 yards, putting a broadhead tipped arrow through both lungs. He bolted about 60

yards and crashed within sight of the stand.

Besides taking a nice buck, I felt incredibly privileged to have gotten to observe the breeding rituals I saw that evening, especially the big doe picking her mate.

That’s why I named him “The Suitor Buck.” 

Wade Shambaugh has lived in Morgan County his whole life and is a lifelong outdoorsman.

The post Bucks I have known: Part XII appeared first on Morgan Messenger.

This is the latest in a multi-part series of columns about memorable deer that stand out from decades of whitetail hunting.

The Old Warrior

Several years ago, the Sideling Hill Wildlife Management Area in Morgan County opened to public hunting. I hunted there on opening day of West Virginia General Firearms Season, but did not see a buck I wanted to shoot. I did manage to find a big female coyote, and happily brought her off the mountain with me.

The second day of the season found me back at one of my favorite spots in some rough ground on nearby private property that a good friend allowed me to hunt. This spot always seems to have more deer later in the morning, or midday, than it does early in the morning.  I often would hunt another spot early at dawn, then slip into this area later in the day. It is a steep, rocky area, and doesn’t usually seem to hold a lot of deer until they got pushed by people hunting the surrounding area.

But since this was the second day of season, and there is usually a lot of hunting pressure on the surrounding properties on opening day, I thought I would go ahead and watch this area at first light.

It was a decision that paid off. Shortly after daybreak, I spied movement on a trail low on the ridge across from me. Looking through my binos, I saw a big-bodied old buck heading down along a rock ledge into the laurel thickets below. By the time I managed to get him in my scope and drop him with a clean shot, he was only a few steps from safety.

He didn’t have what most people would consider a pretty rack. His antlers and body were pretty broken up from fighting. But he is one of the most treasured game animals I have ever taken.

By dawn, he was already as far away from most of the hunting pressure in the area as he could possibly get. He only needed a few more steps to be safe for the rest of the day. There is no way to know how many years he had survived by doing this.

I felt honored and grateful to cross paths with such a survivor. I have to admit, even though I was happy to take him, I couldn’t help but feel a little sadness at his death. In the end, a bullet was much more humane than whatever nature likely had in store for him that coming winter.

He was obviously an old fellow and his body had taken a beating. The meat was dark red and tough.  We boned out the carcass, ground everything, and seasoned it for sausage, which was excellent. I felt that being too tough for steaks was a fitting end for such a tough old fellow. Not a bit of him was wasted. I have a “European” skull mount of his antlers displayed in my home.

He now lives in my memories as The Old Warrior.

Wade Shambaugh has lived in Morgan County his whole life and is a lifelong outdoorsman.

The post Everyday Outdoors: Bucks I have known, Part XI appeared first on Morgan Messenger.

Bucks I have known: Part X

This is the latest in a multi-part series of columns about memorable deer that stand out from decades of whitetail hunting.

The Crooked Tree Buck

1986 was a good year for me as a young hunter. I had been at my first long-term job for two years. The previous year, I had been able to purchase my first new 4-wheel drive vehicle, and some better hunting gear. In September of ’86, my brother and I had travelled for the first time to hunt, making to trip to Canada to successfully hunt black bears.  When we got back to West Virginia, it seemed it was going to be a good year for deer hunting, with several nice bucks sighted in areas where I could hunt. In October, I was fortunate to take a nice 8-point buck with my bow. It was the biggest deer I had taken with archery equipment at that time. With a couple of even bigger bucks known to be in the same area, I was really looking forward to firearms season.

The first morning of the 1986 West Virginia general firearms season — “buck season” to local hunters — I was perched in a favorite spot in Western Morgan County. I had first hunted there four years previously, and had already killed a couple of nice bucks from it. This spot, which I have described in previous articles, was a leaning tree growing out from a very steep hillside. The game plan was to sit astraddle the tree’s main trunk, while using a wide fork at the top as a rifle rest to shoot across the hollow to the opposite ridge. The distance to the trails I was watching varied from around 150 yards to about 350 yards, which in those days I considered to be fairly long distance.

As I sat in my tree, looking through binoculars at the other ridge, I noticed movement almost straight below me. I looked down at a wide set of antlers towering above the laurel. The buck took another step and disappeared into the heavy cover. The steep hillside was rocky and bare under the laurel bushes, with well-worn game trails deeply cut in. Even being so close, the big deer had not made a sound. I mentally kicked myself for being so focused on the opposite ridge that I had allowed this nice buck to slip in and leave.

But he had not left! At least 20 minutes later, I once again saw movement in the laurel. The buck had only taken a few steps. I shot him at a distance of about 40 feet.

Even though I had taken a couple of other bucks while hunting from this same tree from 1982 to 1986, this was the biggest one. He was also the last one. The tree was dying, and in another year or so it had fallen over. Those bucks are all special to me, but this one is a little extra special. In my memories, 1986 will always be a great hunting season, and that deer will always be The Crooked Tree Buck.

Wade Shambaugh has lived in Morgan County his whole life and is a lifelong outdoorsman.

The post Everyday Outdoors: The Crooked Tree Buck appeared first on Morgan Messenger.

Bucks I have known: Part IX

This is the latest in a multi-part series of columns about memorable deer that stand out from decades of whitetail hunting.

The Boat Bucks

Back in the mid 1990’s, my buddy Austin “Dump” Brown and I had been doing a lot of hunting from tree stands. We started when archery season opened in Maryland, right through archery season in West Virginia, and had just hunted the first week of West Virginia gun season, which opens the Monday before Thanksgiving. We had quite a bit of success, but were ready to get out of the trees for a while.

By the opening of Maryland gun season — the Saturday after Thanksgiving — we were ready to try something different.

On the Maryland side of the Potomac, across from the Magnolia area of western Morgan County, there is a remote section of Green Ridge State Forest that has no vehicle access. After checking the regulations, and meeting with a helpful Maryland DNR officer, we decided to use a boat to float and glass some of this territory.

As we floated down the Potomac, we spied a group of 10 or 12 deer bedded in some steep ledges. There were at least two bucks in the herd that we could see. But they were watching us, too.

As we eased the boat into the shore, the deer got up and began to move. One of the bucks was in front, leading the others single file out on a well-worn trail cut into the steep hillside.

When I shot the lead buck, the other deer left the trail and scrambled up the steep face of the hillside. As they paused, trying to get up onto the next rock ledge above them, Dump shot the other buck.

We tagged and field-dressed both bucks, loaded them into the boat, and floated down to our takeout spot. The looks we got from the hunters on Green Ridge State Forest as we drove by towing a boat with two bucks on the front deck was priceless.

Wade Shambaugh has lived in Morgan County his whole life and is a lifelong outdoorsman.

The post Everyday Outdoors — Bucks I have known, Part IX appeared first on Morgan Messenger.

This is the latest in a multi-part series of columns about memorable deer that stand out from decades of whitetail hunting.

Thread the Needle Buck

The year was 1983. It was opening day of West Virginia deer firearms season. I was perched in a favorite tree in a remote area of a friend’s property between the town of Paw Paw, and the old railroad community of Magnolia, in the west end of Morgan County.

Several shots rang out on the neighboring property across the hollow from me. A group of about a dozen deer came spilling over the ridge across and slightly up the hollow from me. Just off to the side of the large group of deer, on a parallel trail, slightly lower on the hillside, I spotted two more deer. Checking with my binoculars, I could see that they were both nice bucks.

By that time, most of the deer were far enough down the ridge that they were being obscured by the treetops between them and I. The two bucks were directly behind a lone pine tree that was growing on the ridge primarily covered in oaks.

I had estimated the pine at about 350 yards but did not have a range finder. A few years later, when we got our first range finders, that estimate proved to be spot on. I was shooting my brother’s 788 Remington in 6mm. This rifle was very accurate.  I was using handloads that I had carefully concocted and had spent a lot of time practicing out to 500 yards and used for groundhog hunting the previous summer.

The scope was an older model Weaver, with a plain crosshair reticle, with no reference for holding over. We simply practiced “Kentucky Windage.” By sighting in slightly high at 100 yards with this flat-shooting cartridge, we were able to hold dead on a deer’s shoulder, or a standing groundhog, out to about 275 yards. Beyond that distance, we needed to hold progressively higher as the distance increased.

As the bucks paused behind the lone pine tree, I could see the left front shoulder on one of them perfectly framed between two horizontal limbs. I knew the bullet would be impacting slightly low at that distance, so I held as steady as I could right on the higher of the two limbs. The bullet dropped slightly and “threaded the needle” between the two limbs, hitting the buck right in the shoulder and putting him down on the spot. It was a classic case of preparation meeting opportunity. As a young hunter and shooter, I was thrilled with the results.

When I climbed over to recover that buck, I noticed that his left beam was a very typical antler, with five nice, even points. The right beam was three long twisted points that grew out at odd angles. I then discovered the buck had an old injury to his left front leg, which had healed. His knee was a big mass of cartilage. This was the first time I had ever seen the phenomenon of an injury to a deer’s front leg causing abnormal antler growth on the opposite side. I have seen it several times since then.

I was really happy to take such a unique buck and make such a difficult shot under field conditions. I will always think of him as the Thread the Needle Buck.

Wade Shambaugh has lived in Morgan County his whole life and is a lifelong outdoorsman.

The post Everyday Outdoors: Bucks I have known, Part VIII appeared first on Morgan Messenger.

This is the latest in a multi-part series of columns about memorable deer that stand out from decades of whitetail hunting.

The Disappearing Buck

One fall, many years ago, I had been squirrel and turkey hunting on a friend’s property on the west end of Morgan County. Of course, while hunting for squirrels and turkeys, I was also scouting for deer sign.

As I wandered around these beautiful woods, I started finding some nice buck rubs. After a bit of looking around, I located a line of these rubs. You could stand at one, and see at least one more, heading down a point. I followed this line of rubs to the back side of the property, where they led down the top of a very steep backbone ridge. After a short distance, the ridge dropped off into a cliff face, which was nearly vertical, and covered in laurel. I felt that this was likely a bedding area. It seemed that the buck making these rubs had a pretty good hiding place.

Instead of trying to approach his “fortress,” I decided to try to find a spot where I could observe it from a distance.

Opening day of West Virginia Buck Season found me across a hollow, about 150 yards away, watching the area where the rub line led down over the backbone ridge.

Just after first light, a nice buck appeared right where I was expecting him. He was walking calmly down the ridgetop, heading into the steep, thick cover.

The only problem was, from my vantage point, every step he took, he dropped further down behind the ridge! He was disappearing like a duck in a carnival shooting gallery. In a few steps, he would be completely out of my sight.

Just before he completely disappeared, I managed to get my sights on his shoulder and fire. In that instant, he was gone. It was almost like he had never been there.

The ridge was so steep and difficult to navigate, I thought I should get a friend to go with me to see if my shot was true.

It’s a good thing I did. The shot had dropped him on the spot, but he rolled just over the back side of the ridge. We had to position him carefully for field dressing, then carefully get him to the top edge, to keep from losing him down the other side, which would have made recovering him a much bigger job. When we got to him, we noticed that his antlers swept up in the front and were polished shiny. I believe that this was from spending so much time feeding on acorns against the extremely steep hillsides where he lived.

The ones that we work hard for in rough country are always more memorable than the easy ones. I will never forget the image of that buck, as he was dropping from my sight with every step he took. I will always think of him as The Disappearing Buck.

Wade Shambaugh has lived in Morgan County his whole life and is a lifelong outdoorsman.

The post Bucks I have known: Part VII — The Disappearing Buck appeared first on Morgan Messenger.

Rabbit hunts

Deer hunting has been the most popular type of hunting here in the Eastern Panhandle of West Virginia, and the surrounding area, for the last 50 years or so, but it wasn’t always that way.

Many hunters in this area, up until at least the early 1970’s, were avid small game hunters. Squirrels were hunted for recreation, and as an important food source, as were the critters I want to talk about in this piece… Rabbits!

As a young boy growing up in the small town of Paw Paw, I loved listening to the old men who hung around on the store porches and at the gas station. I was especially interested in hearing them talk about hunting and fishing when they were younger.

Many of the stories they told were about small game hunting. There simply weren’t many deer in this area when they were growing up in the early 1900’s up through the 1940’s.

I remember in particular one wonderful old gentleman, Robert Hare, telling me about my grandfather, Albert Shambaugh, who died long before I was born. Mr. Hare’s eyes lit up and he smiled and said, “Albert was a great rabbit hunter. I remember seeing him all around Magnolia, carrying his double-barreled shotgun. He was known to be an excellent shot. He killed many a rabbit with that gun.”

Even when I was a young hunter, in the 1970’s and early 80’s, rabbit hunting was extremely popular.  Lots of people in the area had rabbit beagles, including my oldest brother “Pete” Shambaugh, and our Uncle Curtis. Hunting with beagles added a whole other level of fun. It became a social event. Rabbits would be jumped from their hiding place, either by the hunters, or by the dogs, and the dogs would take off after them. Hunters would post in different positions, waiting for a shot at the rabbit, if the chase came their way.

I vividly remember the first time I managed to hit a rabbit that was in full flight from the dogs. The old Western Maryland Railroad track was still in place in Magnolia. I wasn’t old enough to take a stand by myself, so I was standing with my Dad. As the dogs started towards us, my Dad said, “Get ready.” The rabbit came flying out of the tall grass that grew along the tracks. I swung my little 20 gauge single barrel and folded the rabbit as he cleared the first rail. It was the best shot I had ever made. I remember my Dad laughing and telling me, “Good shot!” There may have been some luck involved, but I never considered that at the time.

I recall another memorable hunt at the old Mountaindale Orchard, near Paw Paw. It was late season, and very cold. My Dad and I were hunting with my brother’s dog. The ponds in and around the orchard had briar patches around them, and the water was frozen. The dog would flush rabbits from the briars, and they would streak across the frozen ponds, offering a wide-open shot. Some of the rabbits that day were flushing from the short grass out in the orchard, again, offering nice open shooting. I was about 11 or 12 years old and had recently grown into my little shotgun. I was shooting pretty good. My Dad, who was a fantastic shot with a shotgun, didn’t seem to be shooting much. Even as a kid, it was obvious to me that he was letting me do most of the shooting. Later in the day, I mentioned it to him. He smiled and said he remembered being a kid and how much fun it was when someone let him do the shooting. Up until that time, I had shot a few rabbits, squirrels, groundhogs etc., but this was the first time I was ever consistent on fast moving targets. It was also my first time ever getting a “limit” of five rabbits. My Dad shot three, giving us 8 for the day. It is one of my fondest hunting and one of my fondest childhood memories.

My brothers and I also used to enjoy carrying .22 rifles and looking for tracks in a fresh snow, and trying to stalk up on them, or track them around to each other.

We often even rabbit hunted on Christmas Day. One year, about a week or so before Christmas, I started bugging my old brother Kenny about if we could go. Kenny loved a good joke. He acted like he thought I wouldn’t want to go when the time came. I insisted that I would. So, Kenny made me sign a contract, agreeing to rabbit hunt on Christmas Day. What Kenny knew, that I did not, was that I was getting a dirt bike for Christmas! He let me ride it for a bit, then held me to the contract. I didn’t really mind. I still have the contract.

Rabbits are great table fare. They are very good pan-fried or fixed in a crockpot with sauerkraut. My absolute favorite, and a dish that my Dad loved, was when my Mom would bake the quarters into a pan of dressing (stuffing). It was one of the best things I have ever eaten.

So, if you ever have the opportunity, give rabbit hunting a try. It doesn’t matter if you hunt with shotguns and flush them from their hiding spots, track them in the snow, stalk them with a .22 rifle, or get to go hunt with beagles — it is all great fun, and they are some of the best eating you will ever try.

Wade Shambaugh has lived in Morgan County his whole life and is a lifelong outdoorsman.

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