Wednesday, February 2, 2022

Never give up. Never...

 By Bob Zettler

April 17, 2006


Nearly 10 years ago, I lost my Yellow Lab and a Brittany I inherited when my Father died in 1990. 


I had just finished duck hunting and my guest and I were watching the ducks drop into Carlyle Lake subimpoundments as I let the two run in the parking lot #1 to pee and the like before we headed north to pheasant hunt. A few vehicles came and went and then when I turned around - no dogs. I proceeded to ask all incoming hunters if they had seen them and drove all over for the next six hours and into the dark looking for them and enlisting the assistance of others, including the local CPO.


I left some clothes near where I parked so if they came back over night they would hopefully stay. Took the guest home and returned the next day and drove all over to no avail. This was 12/21 and when it turned dark again I had to return home. The next morning I was on the phone to the local radio stations and newspaper. I was put on the one radio show (an auction show) and then contacted all the Vets in the area and psotmaster. Came back a few days later and started to put out signs and notes in mailboxes. Kept my children from discovering it at Christmas before they went home to their mother's and then was back at it.


It was a very snowy period and the ole Brittany didn't like water so I was worried they had been stolen so I started putting out the story they were on medications and were chipped (micro). I need to mention I lived nearly 90 miles from where they disappeared BUT ALL OF THE PEOPLE in that area were very helpful, considerate and supportive. Had a few false leads but 10 days later on 12/29 I got the ole Brittany back! He was nearly 11 miles away from where he had started, so I started placing new notices in mailboxes that night in a blizzard for several miles in each direction from where he was found. The next night I got another call and JJ had been found! He had been just a few houses away and I had actually driven past him in the blizzard when I placed a notice in the mailbox of the house he was hiding out under.


Both had lost some weight but other than that we were all happy to have found each other. I did not give up for those 10 days and did all that I could and enlisted all the resources available - including the Internet. There are forums out there and I had people from all over offering counsel, advice, support and even time to look - all for a stranger in Illinois.


JJ is still with us but Barney died a few years ago at the age of 17 - pretty old for a Brittany. I just know that JJ still remembers I didn't give up and we were VERY lucky to get our family back together.


What I did a lot of besides placing 100's of notices in mailboxes, in businesses, at stores, and the like was driving around and TALKING TO EVERYONE I SAW. Many of these people would look and report to me if they saw anything. I even had one women of 78 follow a pair of dogs in a blizzard one day thinking they were the ones only to discover the neighbors had new pets. Good people down there and I will never know if they ran off or were taken. I just could not imagine them traveling all the distance they would have had to. They would have had to cross several bridges, interstate and waterways in that 11+ miles...

Good luck to those whose canine family members go missing and do not give up!

Thursday, January 13, 2022

And the winner is…

I am going to post a number of older stories so beware! And the winner is… 

By Bob Zettler 
December 7, 2008 

 It was suppose to be deer second season for me but as that ole dark cloud cast a shadow over what I had hoped for and didn’t materialize, I decided to go duck hunting – and with the cold weather, I once again had to turn to friends for a spot to hunt instead of hitting the public places I could hoof it to like when I was younger. 

The first morning of the four days was set for western Illinois along the Mississippi and I didn’t have to arrive until after 7 AM as my host didn’t get off work until then. I stopped for food to bring for the crew and met him at the ramp right on schedule and was greeted by a totally iced waterway. It was almost 2 inches thick but the first load of hunters had already made it out so we headed to the blind. 

 I wish I could have brought a movie camera along to capture the spray of ice, chunks and frozen water particles thrown up behind Dan as we made our way to the blind since it was spectacular. That rooster tail was 20 to 30 feet up into the air and the chunks would just fall back onto the ice and slide away as we cut our path. 

Now Dan has one heck of a boat and the 35 HP mud-motor was worth its weight in gold that morning as he was able to circle around and through the decoys to create a 50-yard wide hole in front of the blind. Combine that with the Mallard Machine placed 15-yards in front and we had open water that would hopefully entice every duck and goose down for a meeting with their maker! 

 This is a nine-hole blind that blends in well with the surroundings and provides excellent protection for its occupants what with a stove/heater and stools. No wind issues inside this one and all we needed were the ducks to do their thing. 

 Wasn’t too long before a lone Gadwall winged nearby and over the right end of the blind whereby Dan’s guests rose up and pummeled it with steel. While no one called the shot and the bird did not immediately fall, it was mortally wounded and fell on the ice behind us where Dan went out later to retrieve by boat. 

 With the ice continuing to form around the decoys, Dan used the boat after retrieving the Gadwall to open it all up again to where there was clear and open water with no icy slush or chunks floating around so it looked as if the ducks had been keeping it open naturally. 

 We then had three Mallards drop in and light right in the decoys whereupon we shot and all three stayed with the farthest falling not more than 15 to 20 yards out and the closest within 8 yards. 

 But with the cold temperatures and very few ducks flying, we decided to call it early and began to pick up decoys to avoid them being frozen in the ice as the end of the season approached. And while his guests left for their own reasons, Dan and I took out all but maybe 18 and made it back to the ramp before Noon so he could get some sleep and I could make it home to return the next day to try it again – did I mention it was 14 degrees when we arrived and it only made it to 24 by the time we left? 

 The next morning I get up and am out the door before 5 AM and the roads are clear but it is a tad cooler than the day before as it was now 9 degrees! I arrived early and even had a selection of sausage biscuits for everyone (if the other three showed up) and when we looked at the ice and couldn’t get the boat started; we decided to call it a day before it started. It was a long drive back home… 

 For the next day, I all of a sudden had invites for three very different areas of the state but decided to head to Rend Lake as I was trying to set up something for my friends down there and we needed to chat. The forecast had snow on the agenda so I decided to leave very early and headed out the door around 1:30 AM for the 150 mile trip…just in case. 

 I didn’t see the first flurries until the Litchfield area and made it safely to our favorite Huck’s in Mt. Vernon on time but not before picking up some sausage biscuits for everyone; as besides Nick, there would be his 7-year old son Loa, John and his father, which made for three generations of hunters for that Saturday morning hunt on a public lake. 

 As we left Huck’s, the snow arrived in force and it began to get nasty. Oh yeah, that’s what I like! Arrived at the boat ramp and we were the only ones there and the time was 4:45 AM. It seems John overslept but he and his Dad arrived before 5 AM and we headed out in Nick’s War Eagle. 

 Wow, was that snow and wind blowing and with all of us hugging the floor of the duck boat, I could see Nick every now and then when he turned on his spotlight with waves of icy spray hitting him and coating his body turning it into a popsicle - a 6’ 4” camo clad popsicle! The temperature was 26 degrees with winds of 10 to 18 MPH out of the southwest…you all figure out the wind chill! 

 Unfortunately, his first spot was already taken as well as his second for it seems the word had gotten out on how well he and John had been doing, so we settled for the second runner-up and began to set decoys in the snowy, icy predawn darkness. 

 It was quite the spread what with Mallards, Goldeneyes, Ring Necks, Canvasbacks, Blue Bills, Canada geese and one lone Black Duck laid out with Nick’s precision. He even fine tuned it a couple of times moving one here, another back over there, and picking a couple up to place off to the side but it looked great to us when we were done a full hour before shooting time. We unloaded the gear and Nick took and parked the boat around the corner while we settled in along the rocks and amongst the cover where we were not more than a couple of feet from the water and no more than a couple of yards between us with Jon at one end and Nick at the other. 

 The snow began to let up as shooting time crept closer and we got more comfortable among the rocks and brush. Say what you will but this crew had a plan. And when their first couple of spots was taken, they had a number of backups. Then it wasn’t simply a case of throwing out decoys, as Nick placed and grouped them according to what he felt would work for the conditions, the location, the species he had been seeing and a whole litany of requisites. And as shooting time arrived, we could hear the hunters from where Nick and Jon had hunted the day before shoot and just hoped we would still get a chance… 

 It wasn’t too long, maybe a few minutes, before the Mergansers began to sweep past our decoys on their way to God only knows. And as they are fair game, shots were taken and while many did not find their target which might have been going Mach 1, a couple did and retrieves were made by boat and by dog as Nick had brought his Yellow Lab. 

And as the snow was diminishing and the light increasing, we began to spot other, more desirable waterfowl within range of Nick and John’s calls – John’s Dad and I reframed from spoiling their efforts and didn’t call. A VERY wise choice… Nick and John work well together as a team, whether they are calling birds, setting decoys, flagging or other type of waterfowling activities. They have been hunting together for some time and that includes most every day during the waterfowl season in the Southern Zone and even some in the Central Zone. 

 I thoroughly enjoy hunting with them even though I tend to get more than my fair share of abuse as it is in good fun and not mean-spirited. Even when I screw up I don’t get a blast of vitriol but usually an educational effort by Nick and I truly appreciate that part as it helps even this old coot learn even though I tend to relapse more times than I care to count… 

 Now I love the harsh weather to hunt waterfowl in as I fell it keeps them moving and prone to making mistakes – the waterfowl that is! Now in my nearly 30 years of hunting them, I have yet to kill a Drake Canvasback and this year that option would not be available to me as the season was closed by the FWS. And for the first time I can recall, we had Can’s not only swing close by but lite in the decoys! And I do not mean one or two but sometimes a half-dozen or more and most were Drakes!!! Talk about restraint… 

 Now this day felt like one of those special days from the get-go. The weather was prime old-fashioned waterfowling conditions, we were hunting on a public lake and had set ourselves up along a point that was covered with big rocks where we hunkered down amongst them trying not to break a leg of the icy formations or slip into the frigid waters, the company was excellent and we were only taking high-percentage shots as we usually did. The dog was doing his job well but Nick would have to occasionally go to the boat and chase down cripples which were mostly Divers. 

 Now why is that I thought as I know that these guys can shoot and seldom have had a miss when we hunted Mallards? It turns out the physiology of the Goldeneyes (especially) and Blue Bills are a little different than most Puddle ducks and you can tell that the first time you pick one up. They seem pretty heavy for their size compared to their Mallard cousins and when you open them up you usually find a more generous layer of fat that seems to provide a better “armor” for their vital organs. Unless we hit one and broke a wing it wasn’t unusual to have them get pummeled repeatedly as they screamed into and out of the decoys spread only to fall dead anywhere from 40 to a 100 yards out. And I mean stone dead. Even if we crippled one, unless one of their feet were broken too, they would dive only to pop up somewhere else and that could mean 50 or more yards away! This added an element of risk and surprise that enticed me to hope for another chance at one as soon as that one was either brought to bag or lost to the waves before either the dog or Nick in his boat could get to it before it disappeared… 

 There were two father-son teams this day as Nick had brought his seven year old son Loa and John brought his Dad who was close to my age. I had brought McDonald’s sausage biscuits for everyone and they hit the spot as I washed mine down with hot chocolate I had made before I left home. 

 I get a kick out of Loa as he seldom complains and when he does it isn’t about being cold, wanting to go home or the like but about not being to shoot a duck like the rest of us. And when he had finished his biscuit and found I had candy, well it was game on as he ate his way through a bag before we left. It was like adding jet fuel to a go-kart as this kid does not stop and is always doing something and he even mouth calls geese! He has his own duck call and has learned to BRRRRTTTT on it for those Divers we love too. 

 Nick should be one proud papa as he has been raising his son well and is one of the most patient fathers I have ever met – hands down. Anyway, I digress as usual. 

 As the shots were being called on ducks as they were in our faces, whether it be Mallards, Goldeneyes, Blue Bills or even a Gadwall, there were plenty of opportunities for all of us to learn or practice our water-shot techniques to prevent losses or a trip to the boat for the chase as we were determined to bring our ducks to bag and limit our losses. 

 And as John was on an end where many fell crippled (from all our efforts) it came down to him to try and dispatch more than his share thus placing him in an ammo dilemma where we had to augment his supply and me with some ammo of my own to tease him about not coming prepared… 

 Now there came a volley where a number of Goldeneyes were dropped and as Nick went out in the boat he discovered one Hen was banded! Now this was right after he and John had talked about how they had taken a banded Hen Goldeneye the week before and how this freak occurrence would most likely not be repeated in our lifetimes. 

 Ain’t that something as this was the fifth or sixth band their group had harvested since the Southern Zone season opened and the second Goldeneye (both Hens) but in both cases no one could tell who shot what! 

 Now this day wasn’t without a little humor and a drama. First there was this Benny Hill type watercraft that must have had just a 7.5 HP motor on it that cruised by and over to the spillway and then back again. And since it was so slow, it took forever fighting its way through the water several hundred yards outside our decoys and provided us with a good laugh. 

 However, a little later we had another boat cut right outside the decoy edge at less than a 100 yards just as a flock came into and out of the decoys where shots were fired BUT NOT ANYWHERE NEAR that boat. Well these guys slam on the anchor and roar back cussing at us for shooting at them as they had a young man in with them. 

 It was pointed out that no one had shot at them or near them, and, by the way, why had they cut the outside edge of our spread when they had plenty of water to go around. They provided an unusual answer and more words were thrown back and now forth. 

 And as I came around the corner, the boat finally motored off to the ramp where I assumed they expected we had put in the water from but hadn’t as this spot was not our original destination. Sure hope no one had their tires slashed in the parking lot that day because it wasn’t out vehicle….. 

 We went ahead and stuck it out to till 1 PM but most of the action was over by 10 AM where very few Mallards presented themselves but we had a grand day! And did you know there is a Universal Law that pick-up goes so quickly and better when you are successful? It really does… 

And when we got back to the boat ramp, we were all entered into a drawing for the band with a coin toss. But since we had wind and some of us couldn’t catch their coin, it had to go twice. And the winner was…John’s Dad! 

This had been his first hunt of the season and what I felt was a great decision was that he gave his son the band and the dad gets the FWS certificate when it comes. Makes for a new great memory. And since they had used the Internet to turn in the band number, they discovered it had been banded in Minnesota. 

 Ain’t life great some days!

Tuesday, December 28, 2021

Blind Mallard! Blind Mallard!

 Blind Mallard!

By Bob Zettler
December 28, 2010


"Blind Mallard! Blind Mallard!" 

Now how in the Heck does he know it's blind I thought to myself as Nick yelled it into my ear from over my cell but I am getting ahead of myself. You see I was hunting out of a layout boat and it had been a real doozy of a day. Even on the best of days my faculties aren't all that great but the last 12 hours had been a real doozy let me tell you...

First off, I hadn't gotten any sleep the night before. Between my restless legs and palpitating heart I just could not get to sleep even with all the (legal) drugs I had pumped into me. I had hit the hay before 10 PM as I had to leave by 2 AM but the legs and heart kept me awake tossing and turning. So at 2 AM I hit the road and before I hit the city limits was pulled over for speeding! However, he took one look at me already dressed for hunting ducks and saw how disheveled my appearance was and provided me with a waring ticket and cautioned me that there had already been one rollover that night due to icy roads.

That interlude put me 10 minutes behind but it could have put a severe dent in the pocket too so there was an upside. As I got near Nick's meeting spot I called to let him know I was running behind but would be there shortly ? only 5 minutes late. Well he had another friend coming and this would be his first time waterfowling so hopefully we could teach him something...

We headed out in one vehicle and arrived at the ramp where there were already three or more there but Nick put in quickly. However I had to pull him out as the ice had been so thick that the motor wouldn't drop. That was quickly remedied and we got in the boat from the edge of the ramp. Usually this wasn't an issue but for some reason as I slid myself over the edge I slipped and crushed my left nut but toughed it out as we sped across the water. Since I was holding my own and hadn't thought about how cold it was ? just the ache in my nethers? I failed to pull my hood up and when I did I realized I didn't know where my face mask was. Talk about frostbite! But again, I toughed it out...

Well the first spot was taken (thanks guys for not shining a light as we motored all the way there) and it was more frostbite as we went to where he had been the day before. Using layouts is a hoot as you put out your decoys and then place the layouts and this time (thankfully) we were going to be hunting out of them in fairly shallow water. Nick went over the side to start the unloading process and as I never want to be someone who doesn't at least try to assist, decided to go over the side and help.

Remembering my left one I tried to keep it safe as I went over I got my foot caught and over the side I went and into the water. Did I mention how cold it was? Well, I was only wet from my above my navel and down both legs and into my waders but I was a big guy and would tough it out...

We got ourselves into the layouts and began our wait. And as I had brought a thermos of HOT chocolate I knew that I would be okay even as my waders and pants began to freeze and stiffen. Even with the winds at our backs I was getting a little chilly and just couldn't get comfortable. Plus, I kept trying to doze off due to lack of sleep. Even with the fear of hypothermia I knew I would be okay as I was a tough guy...

Finally, around 8 AM when we hadn't fired a shot I decided to take a walk (as we were near enough to the shore) just so I wouldn't get the shakes. An hour later and still no shots I returned to the layouts whereupon they had decided to call it a day. A little disappointed that no one had even fired a shot, I was okay with that as I knew that what had happened to me over the previous 11 hours would soon have its impact so they went to get the boat while I rested in the one layout. 

Now they had quite a hike and after they were out of sight I decided to take a leak as I had been wanting to go since 7 AM! As I was writing my name in the snow (short hose, long backed up stream) I thought I heard someone yell but what did I know as I was getting a little punchy and that is when I heard a phone ring. Not believing it was mine as I thought I had either left it in the Jeep or had ruined it from my dunking, I was pleasantly surprised to discover it was in a dry pocket of mine!

As I answered it I heard Nick scream, "BLIND Mallard! There is a BLIND Mallard in the decoys!!!" 

I kind of chuckled as how did he know there was a duck in the decoys and while I know he is good but how could he tell it was a BLIND duck? Well, I looked around and sure enough there was a duck on the outside edge of the decoys but here I was with my you-know-what in my hands making yellow snow! I quickly finished (boy does that hurt when you aren't done) and put down the cell which was on speaker and picked up my shotgun. But what the Heck was this duck? It looked like no other I had ever seen and it must be blind to have flown over me and land 30 yards away as I was peeing!

Well, whatever species it was it was definitely a duck, albeit maybe someone's farm duck and I took the first shot but missed. As it flew off I threw a second and finally third where I dumped it. Hallelujah, we were not blanked! A few minutes later as Nick motored over I heard the rest of the story. As they had approached the boat this duck had been sitting under the boat out of the weather and had flown off to land right next to me where I was standing with my pecker in my hands literally! And while I had thought Nick was yelling BLIND Mallard he was actually yelling BLOND Mallard!

Now I had never heard of a BLOND Mallard and this was only the second one Nick had even seen. And here, the one guy who went through all sorts of Hell the previous 12 hours and had shown the first-timer what not to do, was the one who scored a true trophy!! My sincere thank you to Nick and to the waterfowl Gods who put me through all the adversities but had bestowed upon me this unique bird which currently resides in my freezer until I find a taxidermist to do it for me. By the way, does anyone wear a cup while they waterfowl hunt...

Monday, August 14, 2017

They call him, Mister Sweetness!
By Bob Zettler
August 14, 2017


Some call me obsessed. Some call me crazy. And some stupid. Whatever the case, I love to go fishing and hunting. And over the years I have been blessed to have come into contact with so many good and great people who hunt and/or fish. And while ALL of these individuals have been kind to me over the years, and years, and....years, when it comes to all-around Walter Payton(ish), I think of Brian Cleland.

We first met via Crappie.com maybe 8-10 (??) years ago when he learned he was also going to be fishing at Lake Shelbyville for Crappie when a coworker and me were headed over one day and we exchanged contact information to share how we were doing or if we ran into trouble. Now my coworker and I were having a difficult time finding Crappie and around 1030 AM Brian texted me to ask how we were doing and I replied, “not so good.” It turned out Brian was already done and he asked where we were as he was down at the south end of the lake, while we were up north of the Findlay Marina. Now he had put in down there but a few minutes later he motored up and officially introduced himself.

After some initial banter he offered to put us on fish before he left and we accepted! This is where it gets interesting. You see he had been fishing way down by Coon Cove and when we arrived he threw out his own marker buoys and told us exactly where to drop our lines. Within minutes we were boating Crappie, GOOD Crappie! Unfortunately, he had to leave soon but told me to hold onto the buoys and he would get them another time. Now how often does a stranger do something like this for some yahoo who he only knows from an Internet forum!

Well the years have passed and he and I fish every now and then out of his boat where I ALWAYS have a great time but it had been awhile until last Thursday. He had read of how I had been having a difficult time catching Crappie the last month and he took pity on me and offered to take me out after work the next week. We tentatively agreed on the next Thursday as I was headed to St. Louis for the morning but could be back for a late afternoon excursion. On that day while I was wrapping up my business, he texted me throughout the day about whether he could get out of work and take me for our previously arranged 4 PM start. No need to fear, he moved the start time forward to 445 PM and he literally pulled in right behind me as I arrived at Bo Woods,

A quick turnaround and we are on the water headed to our first spot by 5 PM. And it was a doozy and one I probably would have a difficult time finding or holding on due to its location way out in the lake – my boat hates the wind. He decides for us to use just one pole each and its on like Donkey Kong!!! Almost every cast of mine brought up the elusive “Over” Crappie that I had been searching for the past several months while Brian was, as he said, “getting the small ones out of my way.”

We soon had nearly a dozen keepers in the live-well and moved on to the next spot where we added several more. Now we were racing darkness so time was of the essence, so we only spent a short time at each spot, especially since we had so little time left. And, much to my pleasure, he was also trying to show me where to look and find brush-piles that I normally have the darnedest time finding even with a GPS and even a leftover marker buoy floating on it. Heck-fire, he said I could mark the spots on my GPS to boot! What a guy...

Anyway, to wrap this up without telling you all the six spots he introduced me to, suffice to say that in 150 minutes from the time we entered the water till we were back in the parking lot, he and I put 23 keepers (ALL our OVERS and the rest UNDERS) in the live-well. In addition, as I was having so much fun, I only marked 2.5 of the spots but I am totally content with that since that is but an infinitesimal portion of the spots he has on Lake Shelbyville alone and each pone produced more for us in a short time than my spots had in an all day outing.

So, Brain Cleland (aka Mister Sweetness), my continued admiration for your fishing prowess and appreciation for how you have helped me achieve what I have as I fish for Crappie! Thank you so very much.


Saturday, June 11, 2016

Hey Billy, do you like Gladiator movies?”
June 6, 2016
By Bob Zettler


I love to hunt and fish. No, let’s face it, hunting and fishing IS my life to a large extent nowadays as I gave up on finding the right woman years ago. So nowadays there are my children, who I love and am proud of, and then there is hunting and fishing. And since it is nearly the summer solstice, fishing is it till September 1 where I begin to go crazy over hunting Early Canada geese and an afternoon shoot for dove. But until then, it’s fishing. Period.

As such, I go most every weekend and every opportunity that presents itself, whether it is as the guest or host. And there is a big difference between the two for when I am the guest, I arrive before they ask me to meet and quit when they say quit. BUT, and that is a BIG BUT, when I am the host I go as long as I can physically stay awake most times and that will tax most anyone else in the world for they have family commitments, jobs and the need for sleep…

I have been ridiculed for my 19, 20, 21 hour trips over to Lake Shelbyville where I will fish from a late afternoon or early evening, into the night hours and then go after those Crappie until either I catch my limit or just cannot see the water. I tell people who join me that they can come and go as they choose for they do not have to “stay the course” and beat themselves up on one of my expeditions. And, I have had a number of people join me where they come late or leave early and this has worked out for it suits us both. And then there was Craig…

I met Craig years ago when he joined Holden and I on what was probably one of the best pheasant hunts I will ever be on. It was wild birds and it was maybe one of his first times out and we bumped into Craig and a friend as we walked the farms of east central Illinois. “WE” scored a full 10 bird limit that day and I simply could not miss. I think the final bird of the day was one that flushed as we were headed back to the vehicles and on my third shot I crushed him at an unbelievable distance whereupon Chunk, my Yellow Lab retrieved him with his Father, JJ, and his brother, Taz in tow. And to top the day off, as we recuperated and relived the hunt from the tailgates of trucks, we witnessed the Northern Lights in the sky – a first for several. It was a magical day and one for the ages but I digress, as usual…

Fast forward to this weekend where Craig had just gotten out of the Army and wanted to go with me over to Lake Shelbyville so I told him he could join me for whatever time he wanted and he wanted it ALL. So we made plans to meet up around 10 PM on Saturday and we would be responsible for our own food and beverages and I would get minnows and catfish bait and he would try for some bluegill and shad. I tried to sleep but a pesky cold and multiple phone calls and texts over the afternoon interrupted my slumber. We met at Leprechaun Landing where I keep my boat at 10 PM and readied ourselves and the watercraft before getting on the water well before 11 PM.

With searchlights ablaze, GPS(s) leading the way, we motored up the lake from Wolf Creek to near Point 6, maybe 4 or so miles in total darkness, sans a few stars. I told him to never tell my kids I do this for they would freak out. I mean, boating in total darkness after a rain using only searchlights and my GPS’s at nearly 30 MPH – they would either commit me or take away my keys! Anyway, we made it there unscathed and discovered others were already there so we tried the island nearby and discovered that the wind the weatherman had said would be light was…shall we say, not, which made it near impossible to keep the jugs off the shoreline. Decided finally to head into a nearby cove and set my 25 floaters with cut shad and chicken livers before boating over to the local marina area where it was lighted and held some fish.

We fished that area until 4 AM and caught a good number of Crappie, with just a couple of keepers, and returned to our catch in the cove. Started pulling my jugs and discovered several had their bait removed; none had fish with several up near the banks. One that was right up against the back we got a surprise, a Soft-Shelled turtle – a BIG one. He had tried to free himself by going under a stump and we could simply not budge him or the stump so we decided to get back to him. Then we discovered another one held a snapping turtle on it – WOW! Not knowing the legality, nor wanting to deal with it, he was cut free. Finally we saw one jug moving like the barrel in Jaws and after a brief chase were able to boat the 8 pound Catfish. Sweet. However, none of the other jugs held fish and several were missing bait so we decided to free the other turtle as well. Hopefully we made the right decisions…


As it was now breaking daylight, we went after Crappie with a vengeance and I put us on one of my spots where we began to catch them! We caught a lot but very few keepers with most being in the 8-9” range but a couple of Overs did make their way onto our hooks. After a couple of hours we decided to head over to the Coalshaft Bridge area but discovered the winds we had been fighting all night were even worse there and with no other boats trying their luck there I reached out to Brian for help.

Brian Cleland is quite possibly one of the nicest guys you will ever meet and has helped me since before we even met in person. Brian quickly replied and sent me tips on where to look and amazingly, I found them! And, we were on Crappie again – a lot of Crappie – but where I could do no wrong at our first spot and had added several fish to our catch, nothing was going right here. With snags, broken lines, and all, I was spending most of my time at getting untangled, unsnagged or replacing lost gear. But Craig came up with the idea that if we had an anchor then maybe it would be easier. DUH! I have two anchors! So we get one out, motor past the spot and I drop anchor letting the line glide through my hands and into the depths. Did I say glide? I meant RIP through my hands as it had a hook stuck in the rope and as I wasn’t wearing Kevlar, well let me say the experience wasn’t one I wanted repeated!

Yet, after the blood was washed off the bow, I was back on the fish and…you guessed it, getting tangled, losing gear and getting wrapped up in ropes, lines and the like but I still managed a Crappie or three. After a couple hours and nearing Noon, I asked him what he wanted to do, expecting him to say how good a tall, cold Coors would be right about then but he surprised me by saying let’s try the other spot! Que sera, sera. Can’t this boy get enough!

Onto that spot and another anchor drop and you guessed it, another shredded hand palm, as I had taken out the one hook, I found another! And Jeez Louise, we…I mean Craig, began catching Overs all the while I am trying to stem the blood loss and get myself untangled and the like. By Noon, the winds were tougher and now the pleasure boaters were out and we had a good number of fish but the minnows were down to a couple of dead ones – I had been using the dead ones AND still catching Crappie – so I asked Craig what was his pleasure and he shocked me. I thought he would say it had been a good time and let’s head for the Hills for a cold Coors. Instead, he said we could stop by the Marina, buy some more minnows and try the spot we had started off at before heading back to the ramp. Now, as most who know me, that is usually what I would say but this time it was another and I was the vict…I mean, the one ready to be done. Somewhere I was quite sure pigs were learning to fly…

Onto the Marina where we pick up another batch of minnows, as we had already gone through more than 10 dozen, and back at the first brushpile where roles are reversed again and I am catching fish while Craig is trying to get untangled. Stayed at it for awhile and finally decided to hit those other spots we had last been at before calling it a day. While we found the one spot, I really had problems finding the other and then the winds were truly a pain in the posterior. Yet, we managed a couple more keepers and then ran out of the second batch of minnow! I mean we went through maybe 200+ minnows and were just shy of a two man limit of Crappie but the killer was I had been ready to call it a day four hours earlier!!!

With the jigs losing their effectiveness and not even a dead minnow in the bucket (I had resorted to using the dried ones that had fallen on the boat’s deck several times already), Craig finally said we could call it and it was well after 5 PM the day after we had begun our expedition. Wow. Just Wow!

The boat ride was wet as there were whitecaps and that pesky wind but we made good time all weighed down with gear, coolers and now fish. Let Craig off and he backed my van and trailer down and we were soon off to our home sweet home – around 6:30 PM! What made my day was when Craig said that not only had he had a great time but it was also the most fish he had ever caught – in his life! Tears of pride and accomplishment swelled in my heart…

Yet, nearly 21 hours on the boat was enough and while I had been feeling great on the boat, it truly hit me once I walked on shore. With another 90 minutes to home for me, I set off and made it to my driveway shortly after 8 PM whereupon it took me a full five minutes to get myself out of the van and in the front door, leaving a trail of clothes in my wake and the fish on ice as I collapsed into my bed.

It had been a great time but I felt like I had been vanquished for I had never been so tired IMHO. And when that chicken I ate on the way home decided to make its emergency exit from my bowels at midnight and I wasn’t sure I could sit upright on the throne, I realized Craig was right that eating chicken on an empty stomach after it having sat out all afternoon wasn’t such a good idea. So while it might have appeared like a tie and that this old man outlasted the young Army Gladiator, I am now just not so sure about that…


Anyway, thank you to Brian, Shawn and all the rest who assisted me on our expedition and welcome home for Craig. God Bless everyone (but not a couple of ex-wives)!

Wednesday, April 13, 2016

Cursed or Blessed?
By Bob Zettler
April 11, 2016

I am blessed sometimes and today was an unexpected one…

One of my nicknames is “Dark Cloud” due to all the “stuff” that either happens to me or around me. I mean last week it a broken drainage (read that sewage) pipe underneath the crawlspace, this past weekend was finding out that the railroad is creating a new crossing right through where I store a lot of “stuff” and then there was this morning, the opening day of the 2016 Illinois Wild Turkey (First) Season for the northern zone.

My usual opener is mostly a scouting mission whereupon I try to capitalize on past experience(s) and current conditions. Now the last couple of years had been a little tough as it seemed a big Bobcat had moved in and even the deer numbers were down. Again, I am still blessed as the landowner has let me hunt his property for maybe 10 years or so and he has a pretty good population of Wild Turkeys on or adjacent to the farm with enough terrain to wear out even the hunter who is in shape. And by shape, I do not mean round as I am but someone who can go up and down the ravines and the like without having a heart attack or calling for a med-evac!

Now I had spent most of the weekend getting ready by cleaning my shotguns and returning the primary three to a 3-shot capacity down from their extended magazines for the Conservation Order Season for Snow geese. Then there was getting the right clothes and gear together and all the sundry odds & ends like calls, video cameras, shells, and, of course, my permit. This was in addition to washing clothes, cleaning house, etc. And while I had a great time with my daughter and her husband of two weeks for an excellent leg-of-lamb dinner, it took a five hour chunk of time out of all the aforementioned!

Interesting aside on my hunting clothes. I wear leafy camo jackets over everything that I layer on as the weather can change in a flash here in Illinois. It can start out with snow in the morning and be in the 60's by Noon. But what got my attention this time was I all of a sudden started getting what I call “clench-throat” where the pollen(s) and the like come the third week of Turkey Season will be so thick that all of a sudden I will start to choke – which is not conducive to chasing turkeys or one's health. And that is when I recalled I hadn't washed them since last season and hat the artifacts were still potent a year later, kind of like how Poison Ivy/Oak can remain potent on our clothes for months – I discovered this years ago when I got a bad rash from them in early December.

Anyway, I digress but I had to establish the background as it seems that no matter how long you have to prepare for it, it ALWAYS comes down to the last minute crisis that keeps me up late the night before and last night was no exception. I couldn’t find my permit, nor could I find any of my dozen shotgun carry slings or my….well, I actually did find the permit and just gave up on the rest as it was near 10 PM and I had to get up by 3:45 AM in order to get to the farm well before legal shooting time. Amazingly, I got to sleep right away and that is unusual as I suffer from severe to moderate RLS (Restless Leg Syndrome) and Insomnia. But even though I fell asleep by 10:30 PM, I still had to get up twice to perform “old man” obligations in the bathroom. Que sera. Que sera.

There was a big part of me that simply did not want to get out of bed this morning but somehow I managed to and was out the door about 4:10 AM after making several trips loading up the van with my two shotguns, boots, 18-gallon container of hunting “stuff” and the like. Fortunately, I had a spare slip-on sling in the van so I would make do with that for the opener. Then it was westward until I remembered my cell phone was still at home – got to make sure I can call 911# when I need to – and made it to the farm around 5:25 AM which provided me with plenty of time to get my gear on and head to the general area I always start with, for historically it holds birds. You see, in my thirty years of chasing Turkeys, I can count on one hand the number of times I have roosted birds and this was no exception and that is why I wanted to allow enough time for me to haul my carcass across the open field and into the woods BEFORE the birds started to sound off.

Now I have a bum right knee and my back is always killing me – some say it’s the extra 100 pounds I carry but what do they know – and I was halfway to the edge of the woods when the first bird sounded off, then the second, third and so forth! Life is good some mornings but it sounded like I might have company as it sounded like another hunter on the edge of the farm hooting his owl call every 20 seconds! C'mon guy, you heard where they are sounding off, there is no need to blow them out of there on opening day! Unfortunately, the woods are already greened up thicker than snot in places and the birds were sounding off several hundred yards deeper than normal, so I had to forge my way through the brush to get as close as I felt comfortable to the four or more sounding off maybe 100 yards or less away to my right. Sure I could hear one way back from where I had parked but he would never travel that distance and I had these right where I wanted them, or so I thought...

I decided on an semi-open area that looked good and one I had hunted in several times as I could hear Hens on both sides of me – and close! After I had sat down, I started to wonder if I hadn’t set up above the first hunter I had ever heard on the adjacent property as there had been a pop-up blind there the last several years and this guy, or guys, would not shut up! I mean it was non-stop yelps, kelps, clucks and the like just 40 or so yards away to my left and slightly down into the primary ravine running the length of the farm edge. But, hey, with him calling and I am already seeing Hens walk near me within 20 to 45 yards, those four or five Tom’s just might beat feet to me and make this one of the first openers in a long time where I scored. Or would it?

Interesting, those four or more Tom’s had gone quiet early but not till after it sounded like they were actually moving away from me, while the one that had been a quarter mile away to my left sounded like he was getting closer. And those two hunters, they had gone quiet. I was in a pickle as I could not move as I had deer and turkey all around me and I sure didn’t want to get shot by those hunters down below me. So I waited…

Then, it got more interesting as the two hunters had been quiet for a long time now BUT that Tom from afar was now pretty darnn close; actually between those “hunters” and me now. Then I decided that maybe those hunters were actually Hen’s after I saw that Tom appear with his deep red head and neck just 35 yards away. But he had so much downed tree branches and the like between us that I had no what I would call a good shot. Sure, I had both video cameras rolling and hopefully they captured him, and I almost took the shot when just his head and most of his neck was exposed in a very, very small opening but it was for only for a second or two and it wasn’t a high percentage shot IMHO. And as he was responding to my calls (forget those real Hens), I should be able to get him into the open as he traveled from my left to right. Alas, he was fleet of foot and was chasing tail that he must have spotted from his vantage point and they all headed deeper into the woods away from me and back towards the pond…damn, he was a really good bird too!

I waited awhile and then began the slow trek in the direction they had disappeared towards and kept spooking deer left and right. Mostly left but I kicked up maybe 7 or 8 of them as I went farther and farther from where I was parked with no turkey sounds to lead me either. I took a breather finally at the junction of two areas known for Turkey and actually catnapped for 20-30 minutes before deciding to head back towards the area I had started in and closer to my van as this would be ALL uphill. I had heard one gobble in response to my calling earlier and thought I had seen a red head pop up on the edge of the no-till corn field but had to give up when it never reappeared.

Got back to the edge of the field where they usually roost next too and close to where that one Tom I had seen had come from and decided to give it till 11:15 AM before heading to the Van. I immediately fell asleep (ala George Moon) and woke up 20 minutes later when the cool ground had transferred most of the heat out of my body. Gave a few calls and waited another 5 minutes before deciding to get up and go and that’s when I saw two or three birds making their way towards me. Probably Jakes and Hens but not sure but IMHO it held out hope that a Tom would be in tow and sure enough five minutes later there he was, the Big Boy from earlier. However, he was on the opposite ridge and the adjacent farm but he was coming and responding to my calls!

Even though he disappeared behind a big tree, I could hear him gobble and he was less than a 100 yards away and he sure was loud. Wait a minute, he was getting closer but didn’t that last gobble come from behind me on my side and MUCH louder? There he went again and I realized I had Tom’s on both sides of me with the ones on my side a lot closer! So I shifted around 180 degrees and in less than a minute I saw a head on the outside edge of the woods coming from the field – Hallelujah! Wait, there Is another head, and another and another? What the ____!

Then, Nirvana hit as one, no two, no three, no four Tom’s came strolling into the woods and at range of less than 25 yards. No time to measure beards or look at spurs as they ALL had nice ropes and the safety was off, trigger pulled and BBD (Big Bird Down)! I will have to look at the video to see how many there were as several vamoosed with my shot and I had filled my Illinois First Season Permit on opening day! And to make it all that much better, he was double-bearded with a 9.25” and a 4.75” beard with 1” spurs. You gotta love it when things work out even when all my planning in advance wasn’t quite complete – no shotgun strap, no single vision glasses (I wear bifocals), no leafy camo top (I had brought two pairs of pants), etc.

It will be a long wait till my Fourth and Fifth Season Tags what with the weather greening up the woods a few weeks earlier than normal and the birds ahead but I’m not complaining today – yet!




POSTSCRIPT I weighed him in a Rubbermaid container that weighed maybe a pound or so and combined they weighed 27.6 pounds! WOW, that's one of the heaviest birds I've ever killed.

Tuesday, February 2, 2016


Coffee sucks!
By Bob Zettler
February 2, 2016


In 1974 I was stationed at Brooks AFB in San Antonio, Texas and assigned to the Research Section as a Physiological Training Specialist. Now the Viet Nam War had basically ended and several in my unit had previously served (we called them “Lifers”) but not seen any “action.”  Our enlisted head was a reformed alcoholic who performed mechanical repair on the side for many of his superiors and was a quiet sort.  Then there was Maloney, someone I came to despise by the time I left there.  He was a drunk, loudmouth who openly cheated on his wife and I had no respect for him.  And there was Bentley who had been a Canadian and self-professed former hippie but had chosen to be a “lifer” and was a pretty good egg.  Then there was Schultz who was a really nice guy but wouldn’t take any guff from Maloney or others – he got shipped to Okinawa eventually for rocking the apple cart.  My boss was Juan who had NEVER left Texas and while patient with upstarts like me – I was the first ever Airman/Airman First-Class that had ever been assigned to this unit as all others had been Sergeant or above – was in over his head organizationally.

Yes, I was rebellious after just living in the East Bay of California for a year and having fun.  In retrospective, I thought I was too smart for my own good.  And one thing that rubbed me raw was being ordered around…smart move to enter the Service.  Hell, even my Dad cautioned me against going in but that’s another story as this one is about coffee.

Yes, coffee!  That beverage many require in the mornings to even get moving and for our unit that was truly the case for everyone but me!  I was a soda kind of guy and had been raised on that and Hot Tea – my mother was British – so coffee was alien to me even though my father drank it at home and when out to eat.

So here I am in a unit where coffee was so important that they had rigged up one of those 20-cup percolator coffee pots with a timer so there would be coffee ready as they straggled into the office each morning.  Each of us was required to take turns to get the coffee pot ready for the next morning on the night before by filling it with water and placing the appropriate amount of coffee grounds in the strainer.  The timer was a 24-hour timer so we were ready for the Tuesday-Friday “grind” and someone would be required to come in early every Monday to ensure the coffee was made for that day – no three day timers back then!

As I had a custom to rebelling against being told what to do (hmm, wonder where my children get that characteristic?), didn’t drink coffee and was already having issues with my “superiors”, a fiendish plot began to develop.  I decide to sabotage the coffee!  No, not with poison but with things like nuts and bolts, salt and other non-lethal crap around the research building I worked in.  It tickled me that first time they tasted my brand of coffee as I expected to have to clean up the floors covered with sprayed coffee but it would be worth it! 

I especially focused on Maloney as he took the first sip to try and clear his head from the previous night of debauchery cheating on his wife and getting drunk.  And I waited, and waited and waited but no one sprayed their coffee on the floors or desks!  I kept at it over the next four days and tried varying combinations of non-lethal “extras” but no one rejected my brews and in fact started to prefer my budding Barista talents to the others!

This just wasn’t fair!  And, no, I did not urinate in the pot of coffee (at least I don’t recall doing so) and finally gave in to sample it myself a couple of times whereupon I spit it out till I learned the benefit of using tons of cream and sugar just like I did with my Tea.  Curses, foiled again!

Now, its 40 years later and I mentioned this story to a man working temporarily in the office and he floors me!  It turns out that a trick restaurants use to making bitter coffee more palatable is to add a pinch of salt as it seems to take the bite out of it.  So here I have been carrying this burden and failure around with me for FORTY YEARS and finally discover that by dumb luck, fate or divine intervention I had discovered unbeknownst to me that my devious efforts to corrupt the delivery of coffee had been thwarted to the opposite end of the spectrum.

It sucks not being able to be a bad person even when you try to be!