Southern Traditions Outdoors - November - December 2014

Complimentary Copy November - December 2014

DUCK NUMBERS ARE UP!OLD POPS

WINTER CRAPPIEGIVING THANKS

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NOVEMBER - DECEMBER 2014 | SOUTHERN TRADITIONS OUTDOORS 32 SOUTHERN TRADITIONS OUTDOORS | NOVEMBER - DECEMBER 2014

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Advertising Information: Southern Traditions Outdoors | Rob Somerville

(731) 446-8052 [email protected]

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On the CoverCamaraderie, listening to hound music and bagging a few rabbits makes for a great day in the outdoors.

Photo by Paul Moore

Southern Traditions Outdoors Magazine Mission Statement:Southern Traditions Outdoors Magazine vows to put forth a publication to promote the outdoors lifestyle in a positive manner. We will strive to encourage veteran and novice outdoorsmen, women, kids, and the physically challenged to participate in the outdoors in a safe and ethical manner. Our publication will bring positive attention to the wondrous beauty of the world of Nature in the mid-south.

Garry MasonWalter WilkersonTerry WilkersonSteve McCadamsKelley PowersShawn ToddEddie Brunswick

Larry Self John SloanRichard SimmsJohn MeachamBuck Gardner Scott MarcinEd Lankford

Drew BrooksJohn LathamJohn RobertsPaul E. MooreRob HurtMark Buehler

Field Staff Editors

Owners - Eddie Anderson Rob Somerville Kevin Griffith Stacey LemonsPublisher - Eddie AndersonEditor - Rob SomervilleMagazine Design - Kalli Lipke

Advertising Sales Rob Somerville - Managing PartnerDistribution Johnathan Anderson Mike Robinson

Southern Traditions Outdoors Magazine, LLC

TABLE OF CONTENTS PG .................. ARTICLE .......................................................... AUTHOR 6...........................Old Pops - Fiction ..............................................................Rob Somerville14..........................Ducks at All Time High .......................................................Steve McCadams22..........................Winter Crappie ...................................................................Steve McCadams30..........................Cooking on the Wildside ....................................................Kevin Griffith34..........................Time for Rabbit Season .....................................................Paul E. Moore42..........................Family Tradition .................................................................Shawn Todd46..........................Collector’s Corner ..............................................................Rob Hurt49..........................Business Profile .................................................................STO52..........................Trophy Room .....................................................................STO

From the Desk of the Editor

One of America’s most cherished holidays will soon be upon us ….. Thanksgiving.

To some, this day means a special dinner of turkey and dressing, with all varieties of special foods and desserts to compliment it. To others it means watching football games on TV. Many look forward to this holiday, to spend time with friends and family, whose busy schedules have kept away for far too long. Many families gather in prayer, to offer thanks to God, for all of the bountiful blessings in their lives.

Recently, I spent some time pondering this holiday, as I sat in a deer stand, watching the world of nature evolve around me. I thought about how fortunate I was to live in a country that stood up for the oppressed, and that doesn’t tolerate terrorists “coming in to our backyard” and messing with our people. Further thoughts brought to mind about how fortunate I was to live in a country that still gave me the right to bear arms and enjoy the hunting heritage that has become an important symbol of America – the greatest country in the world!

Those of you who love to hunt should just imagine for a minute, living in a country with no duck blinds or deer stands, where you couldn’t hear the mystical music of your dog’s voices as they chase rabbits through the fields, or coons through the swamps.

I decided then and there, as I sat in my deer stand watching a family of squirrels chasing each other up and down trees, that this year would be different. I would honestly give thanks to the Lord for all that I enjoy in the woods, for my family and friends, and for all that He has blessed me with. I vowed to quit complaining about the minor problems I face day to day.

You know, we realize that these complaints are actually petty when something major comes about, such as illness or death in our families. They are really trivial, and I find myself looking at the proverbial glass as being “half empty” instead of “half full”. I promised, then and there, to be more thankful for what I have instead of wishing for what I don’t have.

I wrote the following poem for this column in hopes that the next time you are sitting in a deer stand, chasing a rabbit through the fields, watching the tip of your crappie pole for that “tell-tale” twitch of a bite, or scanning the sky for mallards, you too will feel the need to give thanks to the Master of all that is wild.

Last but certainly not least, I also wish to thank you, our entire team at STO Magazine, the readers of this magazine, as well as our fine family of advertisers, for helping to make our publication a success.

Happy Thanksgiving and God bless you and yours.

- Rob Somerville

Giving ThanksBy Rob Somerville

For the turkeys that gobble and for the bass which leap high ,for the hoot of an owl in the pre-dawn sky.For the sight of an antlered, whitetail deer,for the explosion of a quail covey as it bursts through the air.For the coyote that howls on full those moon nights,I thank you my Father, for these sounds and these sights.

For the barking of beagles, running hot rabbit trails,for the red-tailed hawk, that so gracefully sails.For the bobcat, so silently stalking its prey,for the beautiful sunrise on a frost laden day.For the Black and Tan hound, on a coon as he bays,for all of this Lord, it is you who I praise.

For a child’s first fish , with their face all aglow,for the sound of my arrow as it’s leaving my bow.For the eyes of a Lab as it’s scanning the sky,ready for mallards, never questioning why.For the ancient white oak trees, two-hundred years old,not factory-made Lord, only you have the mold.

I thank you dear God, for all of these things,and the precious times of enjoyment that each of them brings.


e was a farmer by trade, as was his dad and granddad

before him. Pops wasn’t a big man, not physically anyway. He stood about 5’7” and weighed only 145 pounds soaking wet, and that was with his boots and coveralls on. But, he was tough as rawhide, without an ounce of fat on him, for all his 72 years. His face was the color and texture of worn leather, from decades of farming in the sun and wind. But his sky blue eyes twinkled with the mischief of a teenager, full of energy and life. That August and early September seemed to drag by at school, with my eyes cutting to the nearby woods whenever by teacher, the kids called “Old Frog Face,” wasn’t looking. The reason I was so anxious was because this fall would be my first deer hunt, and my granddad, Pops, had been gearing me up for it since I was

knee high. I was as ready as a coon dog on a full moon night to begin. I’d been walking and learning the

deer woods with Pops since I was old enough to keep up with him. I remember once, at age 8, when we’d walked across his bean field to the edge of the hard woods, and sat under a huge, sprawling

oak tree. We sat in silence for about twenty minutes when Pops finally looked at me and said, “What do you see, ‘Lil One’?” I

looked around the tree, up in the sky, across the field, and replied, “Nothin.” He picked up a blade of saw grass, stuck it between his store-bought teeth, smiled and sighed, “Wrong answer.” I hurriedly looked again, hoping to see something, anything, not wanting to disappoint the man I so idolized. Sadly, I turned to him, with lips quivering and tears beading up in my eye, and pleaded, “I don’t see nothin, Pops.” He reached for me and pulled me onto his lap, tucking my head into the crook of his shoulder, with the

comfortable smell of cherry pipe tobacco emanating from his soft flannel shirt, and said, “Now, now, ‘Lil One,’ don’t shed no water. I didn’t expect you to know the answer. But let me tell you what I

see. I see this magnificent oak tree that has stood tall and strong for over a century of winters. A giant oak that has fed deer and turkey and housed squirrels and birds. I see a pile of coyote droppings at the edge of the field, full of hair that tells me the critter had rabbit for supper. I see the magnificent sun that God provided us in His goodness, both critters and human alike, for light and warmth. But most of all, I see, smell, hear, and feel nature. Son, nature fills a man with peace. No television, phone calls, or people talkin, but sayin nothin. This is like my private church, where I can peacefully give thanks to Our Maker. And sometimes, if I’m real still, I believe He answers me.” Pops picked me up, holding my hand, and silently led me into the hard woods. We came up to old barbed-wire fence from when he used to keep cattle. He walked the fence line, every now and then getting down on one knee and examining it. Finally, he found what he was looking for, and called me over. He reached over to a couple of barbs and pulled strands of white hair off of them. “Here’s a main crossing,” he said, and lifted me over the fence to the other side. He told me to walk on up ahead of him and I did so unquestionably. After a couple of minutes he told me to stop and look down. When I did, I saw deer tracks. I looked up at him in amazement and asked how on earth did he find them. “I didn’t, you did,” he replied. You see, any time you’re walking in the

woods, you’re going to do the same thing that deer do. You’re gonna walk along the path with the least amount of obstacles in your way.” He looked around slowly, and pointed out two trees, one on each side of the main trail. Walking down the trail he pointed out secondary paths branching off the main trail, and heading under each tree. He said, “That small tree in the clearing is a persimmon tree. In the fall it will be full of sour red fruit that deer sure do love. And that there big tree with the rounded leaves is a white oak. White oak acorns to deer are like rock candy is to youngins.” He walked a

continued on next page

H

OLD POPSFiction by Rob Somerville

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little further and found four spots where the vegetation was matted down. He felt of the ground and said, “Here’s their bedroom, still warm from their nap, and plenty of wet green droppings. This is the spot. Since the wind generally blows from the southwest. We’ll put your stand on that big maple over there, when you’re old enough to hunt.” Five long years later we built that stand out of rough-hewn, sawmill cypress. We carried it into the woods and tied it up to the maple-tree. Just one more month and I’ll be in that stand, full of high hopes and adrenaline. In the following weeks, after I finished my chores, Pops and me would ride his old John Deere tractor to the edge

of the field and watch for deer. We wouldn’t talk much, because we didn’t have to. We were both content to share each other’s space, chew on a piece of grass and enjoy the quiet time. I know now that Pops had work he needed to be doing, but he never once

turned me down when I asked him to go. The Friday before opening morning, Pops made me again recite the hunter’s safety rules he had made me memorize. Then he took me to the barn and Christmas came in November for me that year. First he pulled out a new pair of camouflage, down insulated,

coveralls. Next came an orange safety vest and knit cap, along with a pair of buckskin gloves. And last, but certainly not least, a spankin’ new 30/30-lever action Winchester. Now, I knew farming had been tough lately, so with deep regret I told him I appreciated the

gifts, but didn’t reckon I could accept them. He cleared his voice, looked me dead in the eye, and said, “ ‘Lil One,’ if you don’t

want to see this old man lose his temper, you better take this gear and remember me by it. I won’t be around much longer, but as long as you carry that rifle with you in the woods, a part of me will always be alive in your spirit. You see, farming and hunting has been in our blood far longer than any of

us remembers. I won’t have it stop now. Now get, before I change my mind. Don’t worry; I’ll work the cost out of you with milkin and such. Now take some of them pine needles and rub em all over them fancy duds and throw em in a tote sack. Otherwise, the deer will think a 125-pound; thirteen-year-old skunk has invaded their woods. I ran to the house gobbled down my dinner and went to bed early. Try as I might, sleep eluded me. All I kept seeing was those two trails with a monster buck strolling toward me. I probably slept only an hour or two, but I was awake and dressed way before first light. I crept to Pop’s room and opened the door. His snoring sounded like Bessie, our big sow hog, rooting

in the mud for table scraps. Pops blamed his snoring on the time that fool blue mule kicked him in his nose and broke it, but Granny said it was from him sippin out of his “For Medicinal Purposes Only” jug after supper! I shook Pops’ shoulder three times before he jerked up with a start. “Boy,

don’t ever sneak up on me like that. I thought the old Grim Reaper was comin to pay me a visit.” He got up and we drank a cup of coffee, as he once again went over the rules of hunter safety with me. He checked my new rifle to ensure it wasn’t loaded, and with a melancholy look on his face shooed me out the door, with a

quiet “get em, ‘Lil One.’ “ As I walked across the field to the woods in the moonlight, I can admit now the darkness and hidden noises spooked me some. I heard something coming up behind me and quickly with more than a little panic, shone my flashlight shakily in that direction. To my relief it

was just “Old Jake” my hound dog. It took me 10 minutes to get him to head

home, and I swear he looked at me like I broke his heart. I finally found the pin oak tree, and walked slowly and quietly toe-to-heel like Pops taught me, and made my way over the fence. I skirted the deer trail, like I was taught, to keep my scent off of it, and finally found my stand. I tied my rifle to

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All I kept seeing was those two trails with a monster buck strolling toward me.

I heard something coming up behind me and quickly. . .


with shaking hands, and climbed down the stand. I slowly walked towards the oak tree with finger pointed, to show Pops where the four pointer was when I missed him. As I topped a small rise not visible from my stand, I saw it, one single antler sticking up. My breath caught in my throat as I took another step. Another antler. One more step and the entire deer was visible. Not sounding near as confident as I attempted to, I replied, “Right there.” Pops let out a holler that caused a flock of crows across the field to take flight screeching. He trotted as fast as a 72-year-old man with arthritis in every joint could move and met me at my deer. We dropped to our knees simultaneously beside the buck. Pops put his arms around me and his head on my shoulder and said,

“Dear Lord, thank you for sending this magnificent animal of your creation to my ‘Lil One’ this mornin, an makin this old man happy one more time.” In amazement I felt a warm tear slide down my Pops’ face and onto mine, and I hugged him tighter and tighter. He solemnly rose, shook my hand, and said, “Reckon you’re big enough to hunt em, you’re big enough to dress and drag em too.” As he walked away whistling and wiping his eyes I realized that a baton had been passed transcending three generations, a baton of understanding and enjoying God’s gifts of nature, of respecting His creatures, and a continuation of the tradition of hunting. That was Pops’ last trip to the deer woods. He went to heaven the following spring. He just

collapsed while riding his old Ford tractor. I reckon he went just like he’d of wanted to. Now I’m sitting under that pin oak tree, and it’s got another thirty winters in its bark. It’s real quiet, and I swear I hear a voice say, “Look around you, ‘Lil One’ … What do you see?” And I smile and tell him of all the marvelous sights, sounds and smells around me. And I know his spirit is with me now and always. I sure do miss you, Pops. I got shook into reality as I heard the slam of a car door and animated voices, and smiled as I saw the boy. We ran to each other across the field and he jumped into my arms. He excitedly squealed, “Hi Pops.” I smiled at him and said, “Let’s go take a walk ‘Lil One’”

the pull rope, climbed up the steps and sat down. After pulling up my gun, and putting three shells in it, I double checked my hammer was on safety and sat back. I looked up in the inky black sky and said, “Lord, if it be your will, bring a deer by me today.” Straining my ears, I never did hear Him answer. As jet-black night changed to blurry grays, the woods around me began to come alive with birds chirping, and squirrels dancing effortlessly from limb to limb. The sun began to peer over the eastern hillside. I felt, more than saw or heard the old fox squirrel jump into the branches above my stand. He scampered down the tree until he got about three feet from my head and froze, turning his head from side to side, as if in wonder of what this big motionless blob was, that wasn’t

here yesterday. We both sat in a moment of frozen silence, staring into each other’s eyes until all of a sudden that old squirrel started barking and chattering. He made me jump, but when I regained my composure and looked back

at him, he wasn’t looking at me, but down the trail leading to the white oak tree. “You idiot,” I said to myself, remembering Pops telling me to tune myself into nature. He said the mocking birds and squirrels would let you know of a deer coming, long before my inferior human senses would. There it was, a beautiful fork-horned yearling, pushing aside golden leaves in search of acorns, not 45 yards away. I started easing

my gun up and his head snapped to attention, nose in the air, nostrils flaring. He looked around for about five minutes, before secure in his knowledge that he was safe; he resumed the animated search for his breakfast. He picked up an acorn, and I could hear the crunch of its outer shell break the spell he had cast upon me. Again, I slowly raised my gun and sighted in on the yearling. I put my bead right on the old breadbasket behind his shoulder and pulled the trigger. The explosion burst forth a cloud of pale smoke, smelling of sulfur. The squirrel above me scampered through the treetops, hell-bent for safety. I looked towards the spot of my quarry, and to my heart’s dismay, saw nothing. I tried to stand up, but my legs had suddenly turned to rubber and I had to sit right back down, jarring my teeth with the sudden impact. I sat that way for several minutes staring at the area where

my trophy should be laying, trying to relive the shot, madder than Granny when someone slams a door and collapses her homemade cake in the

oven. I bowed my head in shame. I don’t rightly recall how long I sat like that, maybe a couple of minutes and maybe an hour. All of a sudden my pity party was broke up by the voice of Pops. “Well, where’s the meat?” he inquired. I felt the heat slowly work its way up my neck and around my ears, and I simply shrugged. I emptied my gun, tied it off, and gingerly lowered it to the ground

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here’s reason for optimism. Tennessee duck hunters have pep in their step and seem to be whistling a tune, as the waterfowl season fast ap-proaches. In the weeks and months leading up to opening day, hunters are always asking the question, “How does the duck season look”? This year the news is good ….. Real good! Reports from the breeding grounds released this summer from the U. S. Fish and Wildlife Service, as to the status of the ducks in the fall flight fore-cast, has every duck hunter quacking with enthu-siasm. It was a wet spring on the breeding grounds of Canadian provinces and throughout the Dako-tas, where ducks nest and are raised, a scenario that works in favor of high duck production. Duck hunters in Dixie know quite well that winter weather is a key ingredient in the recipe for a successful duck season, but first you must have the resource, namely the ducks. Unless the ducks are there to move, then even cold winter weather is a moot point. As the Volunteer State’s 60-day duck season knocks at the door, waterfowlers are anxious and eager after absorbing the fall flight forecast data, and rightfully so. With a few notable exceptions, North America’s waterfowl have had a remarkable run according to Memphis based Ducks Unlimited. Total duck pop-ulation estimates have hit record highs in three of the past four years, as exceptionally wet weather has filled wetland basins across the prairies of the United States and Canada. According to the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service (USFWS), the 2014 estimate of breeding ducks in the traditional survey area was 49.2 million birds, an 8 percent increase from last year’s total and the largest estimate since standardized surveys began in 1955.

DUCK NUMBERS AT ALL TIME HIGHHunters Hoping For Sensational Season

By Steve McCadams

T

Duck hunters will have another 60-day season and 6-duck daily bag limit, thanks to a banner year on the breeding grounds. All signs point

to a good season ahead for Tennessee duck hunters. - Photo by Steve McCadams

It’s hard to find fault with a long season and liberal bag limit. And, when you add the all-time high esti-mate of ducks set to wing their way down the Mis-sissippi flyway, then it’s easy to see why the interest level of duck hunters has pegged the meter. A lot of duck hunter across West Tennessee expe-rienced a good season last year, especially during the second half. Bitter cold fronts paid frequent visits throughout January and delivered a lot of new ducks to the region. Although duck hunters are always yearning for cold weather, conditions got a bit too cold during the last week of season as a lot of blinds in swamps, flooded grain fields, and open water battled ice. Sin-gle digit temps changed everything the last week of season, but ducks poured into West Tennessee in big numbers as a result. Most waterfowlers ended the 2013-2014 season on a good note and the atmosphere of optimism has lingered ever since.

SEASON DATES/BAG LIMITS Tennessee’s statewide season will be split and the majority of duck hunters are delighted to have a gap between opening weekend and the start of the

second segment. Dates for the statewide season will be Novem-ber 22nd – 23rd, and November 29th through January 25th, 2015. The five day closure should work in favor of hunters, as it allows ducks to return to popular feeding and roosting areas without human activity or hunting pressure. Just a few days free of human presence should make a difference. Wildlife management areas across west and middle Tennessee, where hunting pressure and boat traffic are an issue, should experience a second opening weekend offering great hunting. The split season should work much better for hunters everywhere, as the ducks and those who hunt them will get a breath-er, before the second segment kicks in for a 58-day straight stretch. The Reelfoot Lake Duck Zone dates differ slightly from the statewide season with an early opener there on November 15th – 16th. Reelfoot’s second segment, however, is identical to the statewide season, which runs from November 29th through January 25th, 2015. Two days will again be devoted to youth water-fowl hunts. Youngsters from 6 - 15 years of age will

Many species of ducks increased in numbers over last year and hunters are hoping winter weather cooperates and stimulates the migration once season arrives. - Photo by Rob Somerville


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have a chance to hunt after the regular season has closed. Two separate Saturdays are earmarked. The first is January 31st and the second will be February 7th. The Reelfoot zone has traditionally experienced an early weekend in November to open its season, in hopes of catching the early migration of such species as gadwall, greenwing teal and widgeon. Bag limits are the similar to last year and allow six ducks daily, but not more than four mallards, of which only two may be hens. The daily bag will al-low three scaup, three wood ducks, two pintails, two redheads, one black duck and a reduction this year

on canvasbacks {down from two last year} to only one.DUCKS BY THE NUMBERS

“Exceptional water this year will lead to high duck production,” said Dr. Frank Rohwer, presi-dent of Delta Waterfowl. “When the prairies are really wet, ducks settle in the best quality habitat. Hens will nest and re-nest vigor-ously, and duckling survival will be high.” Breeding mallards (10.9 mil-lion) and gadwalls (3.81 million) are at the second-highest levels in the history of the breeding grounds survey. Green-winged teal (3.44 million) and blue-winged teal (8.54 million) came in at the third-highest counts since 1955, while shovelers (5.28 million) and red-heads (1.28 million) are at record-high breeding population levels. Wigeon increased 18 percent to 3.11 million, while scaup added 11 percent to 4.6 million. Wigeon are now 20 percent above the long-term average, which is notable, given concerns over a declining population trend in the 1990s and 2000s. Of the ten key survey species, only pintails and canvasbacks de-clined. Pintails dropped by 3 per-

cent to 3.22 million, while canvasbacks were down 13 percent, registering at 685,000.

SEASON AHEAD The stars are in line for a banner season through-out the Mississippi flyway and especially here in West Tennessee where a lot of ducks winter. Thanks to a combination of factors duck numbers are high and a long season, offering a wide window of op-portunity, awaits waterfowlers. Southern duck hunters always keep their fingers crossed for good waterfowling weather as it is vi-

Several species, such as these pintails, are above their long-term average giving waterfowlers reason for optimism. - Photo by Steve McCadams

NOVEMBER - DECEMBER 2014 | SOUTHERN TRADITIONS OUTDOORS 17


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tal to duck activity. Even during years of high duck numbers, hunters have experienced tough sledding when warm winters, a lack of wind and water and long spells of stagnant weather patterns kept ducks to our north. Too much water can be a high hurdle too, as it scatters ducks across portions of West Tennessee, eastern Arkansas, the Bootheel of Missouri and Western Kentucky. When the mighty Mississippi River floods and backs out, it covers thousands of acres of farmland, where ducks can feed and rest at their leisure. For hunters, it’s a roll of the dice at times, as every day is different in the duck blind. Last season was warm and wet in the first half, but really changed during the second half, when frigid conditions en-tered the picture. Duck numbers swelled and hunting really improved. Several wildlife management areas and private hunt clubs had a wet spring and were unable to plant corn in many lowland areas. Some units were able to plant millet later, or farmers came back with soy-beans, after early corn crops flooded out. It will be interesting to see how the ducks respond, once winter arrives. Hunters can control the decoys, boats, motors, blinds, dog and the food in the blind, but after that about the only thing they can control is being there. No one knows when the good duck weather will arrive or when the best days of hunting will occur. That’s why the best time to go hunting is whenever you can!Editor’s Note: Steve McCadams is a hunting guide and outdoor writer from Paris, Tennessee. You can reach him at [email protected].

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hey don’t just vanish into thin air after spring spawn-

ing. Long after the dogwoods have bloomed in early April, crap-pie are still swimming around and sporting a hefty appetite. Mention winter fishing to some folks and they roll their eyes in disbelief, yet more and more vet-

eran anglers are picking their days and landing warm memories dur-ing the winter months. Both Reel-foot and Kentucky Lakes have buried treasures waiting to be dis-covered this time of year. Some of Reelfoot’s best crap-pie catches are recorded each year in the February and March

months. It differs from a reser-voir like Kentucky Lake in that it is shallow and the fish don’t migrate long distances or maneu-ver around via deep creek chan-nels and submerged sloughs. Yet, winter months at the earthquake lake are productive ,as anglers slow troll spider rigs over deeper

By Steve McCadams

T

Winter Crappie Will Warm Your Heart

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stumps and log some the year’s biggest fish before spring arrives. Once surface temperatures cool, during the late fall, crappie tran-sition back to deeper depths at places like Kentucky Lake as the fish follow their forage. Schools of threadfin shad migrate back to main lake drop-offs and ledges, where deeper water offers them some refuge from drastic changes in temperature. Shad like to linger in shallow water during warmer conditions and sometimes get caught by a drastic cold front that can lower surface temperatures overnight. The baitfish have little tolerance for quick drops in temperature and often go into shock, which is why anglers sometimes see thou-sands of them floating or washed up on shorelines, in the aftermath

of a dramatic cold front during winter months. Shad kills are not that unusual when quick changes occur during the peak winter weather. It can, however, make for tough fishing conditions for a week or so. Crap-pie, bass, and sauger fishermen during the winter months have long known that fishing in the af-termath of a winter shad kill is al-most a lost cause, as fish suddenly have an abundant food source that makes for easy pickings. Under normal conditions the winter months see crappie school to a great degree and gang up around deep structure such as stumps, brushpiles and other man-made structure, such as stakebeds. The fish love to occupy cover found on the deep side of a drop-off and the popular depth range at

Kentucky Lake is 20 to 25 feet. Tightlining presentations are the most popular and bumping bot-tom with a double-hook rig has withstood the test of time here. Some anglers prefer live min-nows, while others dangle a 1/16 to 1/8-ounce jig on just a single hook presentation. Using light monofilament line is the norm, as the key is to feel the jig bump against structure and anglers must watch closely for light strikes. Popular line sizes will range from 6 to 10 pound test when tightlining just jigs, but those using bottom-bumping double-hook crappie rigs prefer heavier line that allows retrieval of the rig {without breaking} when snagged. Line in the 12 to 17 pound test is a common choice, as this is strong enough to bend

Winter crappie will warm the heart of any angler, as the big slabs can be taken long before spring arrives. - Photo by Steve McCadams



sinkers in a methodical vertical motion. The up and down rocking of the rig will allow it to fall on its own and free itself if you don’t lose your cool and jerk too hard, jamming the hooks deeper into the wooded snags. As to sonar experience, there’s no substitute for on the job train-ing. Watch your screen closely, as you may sometimes encounter schools of fish. or those precious arches in and around deep struc-ture that indicate the presence of fish relating to the cover. Baitfish activity and structure are the two keys as many times you’ll find a few fish associated with deep structure that might not show up on the screen. Often times, the fish are holding tight in cover and even the top qual-ity units can’t differentiate a few scattered fish that are hidden be-neath the limbs, or poking their nose tight in the roots of a stump. The best approach is trial and error. Stalk the good looking spots that show up on your screen. Knocking on the door is the best way to know if the fish are there, as you may well catch a few fish here and there along the ledges or drop-offs that really didn’t show up distinctly on your sonar. It’s true the crappie like to school in winter on the deep main lake ledges, but it’s also true they scatter at times and lay close to cover, like rabbits in a briar patch. Sometimes they’re stubborn to move and reluctant to make an ef-fort to emerge from their comfort zone to strike a bait. In that scenario anglers have to put the bait right on the nose of the

fish with a slow presentation and almost annoy them into biting. Some days, the fish are aggres-sive and slam the bait once it enters their ref-uge area. Other times, they’re moody and you have to present the bait to them on their terms and at their depth. The bottom line is that back-ing off the banks during the win-ter months will put you in touch with some hefty crappie that are ready, willing and able to test your tackle long before spring arrives. It’s true that when fishing for crappie in the winter, there are limitations and anglers have to pick their days at times. Mother Nature deals the cards and there are times when mean cold fronts with gale force winds dictate con-ditions. Yet, bad

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light wire hooks and get the rig back, without having to break off and retie too often. Winter crappie are known for light strikes and can be finicky. Anglers really have to concentrate on their rods tips and watch the line to detect feather light bites. Even big slabs are known to bare-ly take the bait, so sometimes it turns into a feeling contest. Jig colors are important and choices often depend on the clar-ity of the water. Clear conditions often merit the choice of dull col-ors such a clear with sparkle or motor oil with red glitter. Yet, the fish always seem to have some ap-petite for various shades of char-treuse. Wise is the angler who keeps an arsenal of colors in his tackle box. Fish are the final judge and they

sometimes change the rules in the middle of the game. Experimenting is part of the battle plan too. Tipping jigs with a live minnow can sometimes en-tice sluggish crappie to bite. The size of the jigs and color choices are also important, but don’t be too stubborn to supplement the presentation with live bait. Another addition to jigs can be tipping them with scented at-tractants in the form of liquid sprays or the popular “marshmal-low” looking Berkley Power Bait known as crappie nibbles. These scented delights come in vari-ous colors, ranging from white and red, to chartreuse and green. Berkley even offers their power baits with various colors of glitter, which give off the appearance of injured baitfish that lose scales in

the water column. The bait selection and tech-nique are two important ingredi-ents in the winter approach, but so is sonar in selecting your spot. Interpreting your sonar is vital to deep water fishing during the win-ter months. Finding the deep structure and observing baitfish activity are two steps toward success. Fine tuning the unit and paying close attention to depth and structure go hand in hand with feeling cover from your rod and lure presentation. You must learn to negotiate the struc-ture with a gentle touch and prac-tice patience when snagging. Experience will help you free the jig or snagged hooks on a bottom bumping rig by not jerk-ing too hard on the initial hang and slowly working the hook and

Big slab crappie, like this one, don’t disappear after spring spawning and winter fishing is a good time to find large numbers of fish school-

ing tight to structure. - Photo by Steve McCadams

Deep water crappie await anglers who take advantage of their habits to hold close to submerged structure on drop-offs in the main lake

area. - Photo by Steve McCadams



weather doesn’t usually last too long this time of year. Once light and variable winds return, with southwest breezes raising temperatures and increas-ing the enthusiasm level of win-ter fishermen, capitalizing on the consistency of cold weather crap-pie habits can be very productive.Give winter fishing a try and you too might find a warm spot in your heart for cold water crappie!Editor’s Note: Steve McCadams is a professional guide and outdoor writer from Paris, Tennessee. He can be reached at [email protected].

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What’s a pawpaw? That’s the reaction I usually get when I start talking about paw-paws. The most frequent guess I’m given is it’s a name used for a grandfather. True, it sounds simi-lar to “Papaw”. However, I’m talk-ing about a native tree to our region that has an amazing tropical-like fruit. Pawpaws (scien-tific name: Asimina Triloba) can be found in the forests of eastern North America and are particularly abun-dant in the Ohio river valley, and along the loess bluff stretching down the Missis-sippi river from Kentucky and into the state of Mississippi. Our prop-erty, Fyrne Lake Farms, is situated right along the edge of this bluff near Dyersburg, Tennessee. When we first started exploring our new land, I noticed a small tree with large, dark green leaves populat-ing much of the understory of the forest. Occasionally, I would find these trees bearing fruit, during the late summer along the forest edge, or within the woods where sunlight had penetrated through the tree canopy. I was intrigued and wanted to identify this unusu-al species. My father has a degree in bota-

ny, so I asked him. He immediate-ly identified it as a pawpaw. My mother also recognized the fruit from her childhood in southern Indiana. The fruit of the pawpaw tree

is shaped very much like a large bean, measuring up to 6 inches in length and up to 3 inches in diameter. When ripe, the flesh is yellow, custard like and has eight or more large brown lima bean shaped seeds that can be from 1/2 to 1 and 1/2 inches long. It has a wonderful tropical smell with a taste somewhere between banana and mango. In fact, the fruit has acquired several nick names over the years including; custard apple, wild banana, Hoosier banana, poor man’s banana and banango. This unusual fruit enjoys the title of being the largest native fruit found in the United States.

Native American Indians were the first to recognize the value of the pawpaw. Besides eating them raw, Indians dried the fruit into cakes and mashed the flesh with water to make a sauce and used

it as a sweetener for cornbread. One of the companions of Her-nando de Soto, during his 1540 Spanish ex-pedition up the Mis-sissippi River, even observed Indians tend-ing and cultivating the trees. About 200 years later, settlers moved across the Appalachian Mountains and incor-porated the fruit into their diet. Pawpaws even sustained the Lewis & Clark expedi-tion when their provi-

sions ran low on their return trip through the wilderness of western Missouri. Wow, this fruit has history! It looked like I had found another treasure to connect our farm and me to my family’s roots in south-ern Indiana. The hilly, forest-cov-ered, Tennessee bluff where Fyrne Lake is found reminded me of the area surrounding my grandmother Fyrne’s Indiana farm (she is our Tennessee farm’s namesake - Fyrne). In addition to the wooded hills, I kept discovering wild food sources that my grandparents had used like blackberries, persim-mons, morel mushrooms, sas-

safras, pokeweed and now paw-paws! I wondered if I could find ad-ditional ways to share them with my family. The first challenge in sharing is preservation. Pawpaws do not have a long shelf life and taste best when taken ripe off the tree. My experience has shown that the fruit obtains an aftertaste, if it is picked green to ripen, or sets out much more than 24 hours. We pulp and freeze any pawpaw, notconsumed the same day it’s picked, in one cup portions to use in reci-pes. But, what could we make with this native fruit? I found sev-eral websites having recipes with

the most ex-tensive one being www.p a w p a w .k y s u . e d u /p a w p a w /recipes.htm. During my research I also discov-ered that many of the distinct trop-ical compo-nents of the pawpaw flavor will dissipate in high heat. Thus, breads, pies and ice cream recipes work best. My mother has been experimenting

with pawpaws in place of bananas in breads. She discovered that to obtain a desired “moist” result an additional portion of pawpaw pulp is required.

with Kevin Griffith

Notice the tropical look and color of this native fruit. These pawpaws are perfect, delicious and ready to enjoy! - Photo by Kevin Griffith


Pictured here are pawpaws on the tree, still in their ripening stage. They’ll lose their firmness when ripe, giving slightly, when squeezed like a peach or

nectarine. - Photo by Kevin Griffith


I have to admit that my preferred way to con-sume pawpaws is right off the tree! I determine their ripeness like I would a peach or a nectarine. I slightly squeeze around the body of the fruit. If it’s firm, the pawpaw’s not ready. If it gives slightly, you’re in store for a treat! The taste is very unique and refreshing. I especially recommend it! Pawpaws are a special gift found within God’s creation and can be found right here in west Ten-nessee! Discovering them on our farm deepened my family’s connection to Fyrne Lake. Not only does it remind us of my Mamaw Fyrne’s southern Indiana roots, but it also touches our Native Amer-ican and early American settler’s blood. Don’t be left out! No matter what your background, tasting a ripe pawpaw off the tree can be a gift you won’t soon forget. And when you do, you’ll be sharing a treasure that nourished explorers, was enjoyed by settlers and connected the Griffith family’s heri-tage to Fyrne Lake, Tennessee.

My mother has been experimenting with pawpaws for years. Here, she replaced bananas with pawpaws in this delicious bread!

- Photo by Kevin Griffith

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abbit hunting remains one of the most popular small game hunting pursuits across the nation. Certainly, numbers of rabbits and the numbers of hunters who chase them have declined from historic peak levels, but interest still remains strong throughout the southeastern United States. Luckily, we are blessed with plenty of good habitat, lots of variety in locations to hunt and a fairly long rabbit season providing plenty of days afield. Looking at statistics on hunter effort from various states, it is interesting to note how that effort ebbs and flows throughout the season. There is some variance

from one report to another, but they generally follow a predictable pattern. There is a peak of interest at the beginning of the season then it tapers off. Hunting effort picks back up a little later, especially taking into account traditional Thanksgiving Day hunts, and then tapers again. Another bump in hunter interest usually happens late before the season concludes. There are some obvious reasons for some of these bumps in participation and then some a little more subtle. Seasonal openings and closings, holidays, weekends and other factors contribute to the obvious peaks. The openings, closings and peak opportunities for

other hunting seasons also play a part. However, weather patterns, habitat changes and rabbit hunter success also contribute to the ebbs and flows and these are not as easily broken out of the stats. With the season running long as mentioned, there are many changes that take place throughout the course of four months that alter hunting success. These include habitat changes that affect where rabbits are found. It also includes hunter pressure, rabbit numbers and weather impacts. All of these combine to determine where success will be found and which tactics to use. Weather and seasonal changes

This pack of beagles races through the brush, willingly busting through briars and thorn bushes, as they are born and bred to hunt rabbits. - Photo by Rob Somerville.

Time for Rabbit SeasonBy Paul E. Moore

R

play as big a factor as anything. At the beginning of the season, there is still plenty of greenery and all the vegetation is upright and thick. There is an ample supply of food sources. This bodes well for the rabbits, but not necessarily for the hunters in some cases. Obviously there are more rabbits at the start of the season than at the end. However, with so many food choices and so much available cover, the rabbits can be most anywhere and are sometimes scattered. Nonetheless, there can be some fantastic early days of the season. As winter wears on, the elements take a toll. The vegetation dies off and becomes less substantial. Rain, snow and wind cause much of the available cover to fall over or just generally become less available. This lack of cover forces rabbits to move to seek heavier and thicker shelter, not only from the elements, but from predation. Food sources begin disappearing too. Gone are the lush grasses and plants rabbits thrived on during summer and early fall. Gone also are most of the waste grains from farm fields. But, rabbits are very adaptable eaters and when their preferred diet is not available, they will forage on leftover buds, stems and other remnants from the summer growing season. Tree bark and small saplings are also staples in their diet, especially in winter. In fact, examining the bases of small trees and saplings looking for signs of chewing is a way to actually “scout” areas for rabbit hunting potential.

Do not underestimate the effect hunting pressure has on rabbits and subsequent hunting success either. Deer hunters and others often talk about how hunting pressure moves the animals around, makes them nocturnal or more alert and just generally makes them tougher to hunt. Rabbits may not be as subject to this as whitetail deer, but hunting pressure will definitely play a part.

Rabbits may not have the brain capacity of say a chimpanzee, but that does not necessarily lump them in the category of just a dumb animal, with no clue as to what is happening around them. True, they may not have the ability to reason as do we humans, but their instincts have guided them through the ages and they have adapted and survived. They

Rabbit hunting offers an excellent opportunity to introduce the youth of today to hunting. - Photo by Paul Moore.



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will react to pressure with i n s t i n c t u a l m o v e m e n t and survival methods. It is not just from hunter pressure. As the habitat thins out, rabbits become easier pickings for predators such as hawks, owls, bobcats and coyotes. This is yet another reason rabbits will seek heavier cover. Recognizing the fact that rabbits will move around is an obvious key to success later in the season, but one must also pay particular attention to what cover is available and concentrate hunting efforts on the best locations. In some locations, there will be no choice for rabbits, as to where they seek food and shelter. In better habitats, rabbits will seek out the places that offer the best of shelter and hiding, but yet have the most diversity of food choices. Most hunters do not have the luxury of time to hunt as much as they would prefer. Work, family and other factors limit the amount of time spent in the field. To make the best use of that available opportunity, hunters want to key in on the spots most likely to produce a fun and successful day.

Finding those late season spots that hold good numbers of rabbits can be a challenge anywhere, but is especially daunting on public ground, where the competition for and pressure on the best locations is great. The most successful hunters are willing to literally go the extra mile to locate those hotspots others overlook or simply are not willing to put forth the effort to reach. Spots closest to road access are obviously hit hard by hunters. Many people are not willing or are not able to walk to reach hunting areas far from parking locations. The hunters who are able and willing to trek back deeper are often rewarded with some excellent hunting. Many wildlife management areas and other public hunting lands have maps available and they can be

studied to find out of the way places others might miss. There are also other great sources of research and mapping such as Google Earth, MyTopo and more. Although it is a lot more trouble on the hunter’s part, leashing up the dogs and walking them farther away from the parking areas before turning them loose can be very rewarding. It really is no different than deer hunting on public lands. There have been studies showing how far the average deer hunter travels from a parking area before putting up a tree stand. Rabbit hunters are no different. True, rabbit hunters may walk all day once they begin hunting, but they most usually park where they can dump their dogs right out and start hunting. This brings us to the final



equation in late-season hunting. Dogs play a very important part in rabbit hunting these days. This is especially true on public ground and most anywhere during the late season. In the past, rabbit numbers were at peak levels, there was great habitat everywhere and coyotes were hardly ever seen in this area. Good numbers of rabbits could be brought to bag simply by walking through cover and “kicking them up.” Those days are mostly gone. Sure, there are areas and times when walking and kicking the brush will produce, but nowhere as consistently as with a few good dogs. The optimal word there is “good” dogs. In the late season, most rabbit hunting areas have been heavily pressured. Rabbits will be in the thickest cover available and will often sit very tight and not jump unless they absolutely are forced to do so. Dogs that skirt the

edges of cover will pass up lots of rabbits. Also, hunters should be prepared for longer runs and turns t h r o u g h the most difficult and impenetrable cover to be found. As conditions c h a n g e t h r o u g h o u t the season, savvy hunters r e c o g n i z e these changes and adapt their hunting methods to match. The season is long and provides lots of opportunity. Success is not always measured

in the number of game bagged though, but in experiences, learning and camaraderie.

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never know what we will say to each other. Now, they start on me and that is a whole book by itself on what they harass me about. Finally, we have Mason. We harass him about his younger sister be-ing tougher and cooler. He took it like a trooper and quickly learned one of the lessons of coon hunting …. the good natured, give and take in kidding with one another. I was thinking during this enjoyable time that I had been with four generations of the Blalocks coon hunting, in some form or fashion. Coon hunting re-ally is a family tradition. Needless to say, we were having a blast, when all of a sudden lightning was getting closer and the wind was picking up. Decid-ing to get out while the getting was good, we called in the dogs, loaded them up and left. It was a real thrill to be able to take Mason on his first coon hunt and enjoy the camaraderie with a coon hunting family. That night we did not fill our game bag, but there will be other times. It is ironic that Rusty was on my first coon hunt 32 years ago and now I was on Mason’s. Maybe if I live long enough I will be on Mason’s son’s first hunt or Ma-son’s will be on my future children’s first hunt. The

best memory of the trip was when Mason looked up smiling at his dad and asked Rusty, “When can we go again?” That made this old coon hunter feel good. Family Tradition

ello to all you great readers of STO Magazine. I hope luck and good fortune have shined on you and yours. By the time you read this article, most hunt-ing seasons will be open, or about to open. I hope your game bag will be full all year long. “Coon” season opened in the middle of September and it is

my time of year, with the weather cooling (fat boys do not like to sweat), leaves turning color, Christmas around the corner and the realization that the Good Lord gave me another year to enjoy the great out-doors. As you know by now, I am always trying to get

kids involved, safely and ethically, in hunting. Well this one hunting trip even surprised me. My “brother” Rusty Blalock was eating lunch with me at my café, and bought up the subject of his grandson wanting to go hunting, I said, “Sure Rusty let’s do it.“ You see, his grandson - Mason is six years old, but I think if you start them young they will keep going. We decided the when and the where and were set. I got ev-erything ready and met Rusty, wife Angela, and his grandson Mason at his house. Storms were looming, but we still decided to go. Let me take you on this memorable hunting adventure. With a thunderstorm forecasted and it being a muggy night, we released the three hounds (Money, Sassy and Whiskey River). Quickly, they strike and move the track through the woods and tree, but no luck tonight on this big, leafy, oak tree. We release the dogs and a quick strike happens again. This time we have time to harass each other and the laughter starts. First we start on Angela, who has been with us once before, and her pink pony boots. Listen dear readers, if your wife or girlfriend {hopefully for you not both at the same time} goes coonin make sure she isn’t wearing “pink pony rubber knee boots” because your hunting partner/brother/friend will not let her or you live it down. Then, we start picking on Rusty

and after 30 years of hunting together you

By Shawn Todd

H

Mason and his granddad, Rusty, are pictured here enjoying a traditional night of coon hunting. - Photo by Shawn Todd

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Collector’s Corner

ho would have thought that everyday hunting items like hunting licenses, patches and pins, or even duck or goose leg bands would ever be collectible, much less worth anything? Well, my name is Rob Hurt and I am an avid col-lector of vintage hunting related items. In this article of “The Collectors Corner” I am pleased to share with you a few of the items I personally enjoy “hunt-ing” for.

HUNTING & FISHING LICENSES Every hunter is legally resposible to have a hunt-ing license. Collecting vintage hunting licenses is an easy and fun way to keep track of the trends of that era in which each license was issued. You can collect licenses by the state it was issued in, by the year it was issued, or even by the style of the license. If you are collecting by state you will find that every state

in the United States has its own unique hunting/fish-ing license. Collecting all 50 states can not only be fun, but extremely challenging. If you pick a certain decade to collect, such as the 1920’s or 1930’s you will find that these licenses were fabricated of metal, or made in the form of a pin. This brings us to the next category of the style of the hunting/fishing licenses. Hunting licenses come in different variations such as metal pins, metal square plates, stamps, plastic licenses, paper licenses and even early licenses made of wood pulp or cloth. Most states have a residential hunting/fishing license, a residential trapping license, and a non-residential hunting/fishing license. The non-residential hunting/fishing licenses are usually the most valuable. The reason for this is that fewer non-residential licenses are usually issued than residential license each year.

by Rob Hurt of Feathered Finds

The value of each license is determined by the con-dition, age and rarity of the license. Some hunting licenses are worth as much as $1500.00 each! If you have interest in collecting vintage hunting/ fishing licenses or stamps, a great book to read is Sporting Collectibles by R. Stephen Irwin MD.

HUNTING PINS & PATCHES Other fun items to collect are hunting or firearm pins and patches. Hunting patches and pins are a great way to stay in touch with the sport you love. Collecting pins and patches has distinct advantages I like. They are easy to find. They do not take up a large amount of storage or display space, like decoys or calls do. They also can be extremely valuable, if you find the right ones. Most pin and patches will fall in the $5.00 to $20.00 value range, but with a little luck, you may run into that rare game warden badge, or a coveted vintage firearm pin or patch that is worth hundreds or even thousands of dollars. Do your research and start putting pins and patches into your 401K retirement plan.

DUCK & GOOSE LEG BANDS The last collectible I would like to inform you about, in this article of The Collector’s Corner, is what I like to call jewelry. Jewelry, or the {coveted by all waterfowl hunters} duck or goose leg band, can be highly collectible and valuable. There are many different kinds of leg bands out there. You have federal, state, and even private club leg bands. All of these bands are placed on one of the duck or goose’s leg for the sole purpose of collecting infor-mation on the flight pattern of that banded duck or goose. Each leg band will have a number or address

for the person that harvests the bird and obtains the leg band, for them to call in the information of where and when it was shot. One of the most desired leg bands is the Jack Miner band. Jack Miner was one of North America’s lead-ing conservationists. He started the Jack Miner bird sanctuary in Kingsville, Ontario in 1904. Jack was one of the earliest and most successful developers of waterfowl refuge habitat, and is considered the father of bird banding in North America. Most of his bands were stamped with verses of scripture. He started banding birds in December of 1909 and con-tinued up until the early 1920’s. All of these sought after bands were hand stamped by Jack Miner him-self. The earlier, hand-stamped bands are most de-sired by collectors and some are worth as much as $600.00 each. Even the most common Jack Minor band is worth $75.00. Collecting hunting licenses, leg bands, or those allusive hunting patches or pins is a great way to

W



BUSINESS PROFILE

Wacky Quack Duck Calls was established in 2013, after many hunting friends pulled me aside to complain about the high cost of duck calls in general. I am the owner of a plastics company and an avid outdoorsman, so the fit was natural. The original idea was to provide label calls for other companies, but for me to be motivated I had to have my own line of calls. A few days later Wacky Quack Duck Calls was born, then our Logo “Drives Ducks Crazy!” Once the Cad Drawings were complete, it was off to the tool shop for the mold to be built. I never considered any other resin other than Polycarbonate, because I wanted the call to be super tough and take the kind of punishment only a duck hunter can dish out including extreme cold, water, ice and just plain old getting kicked around. I could use any resin I wanted to: ABS, Acrylic or Nylon, but Polycarbonate was the only one that is nearly bullet proof. It took eight weeks to build the mold. During that time we were building the Reed Holder Mold in house. Again, the reed holder had to work in extreme conditions, so the specs were important. We wanted it to be soft enough to hold the reed, yet still have a high tensile strength. After several tests, we settled on a Thermoplastic Elastomer. Now for the reed ... same song, third verse. Luck would have it that we already did precision cutting of membrane materials in our Syringe Filter Operation, so reed cutting was a non-issue. With a precise die, every reed would be the exact same dimension and we could also offer different reed thickness {.010, .014 or any other available thickness}. Last, but not least, we designed two different reed lengths. By this point, it had become apparent to me that no two duck callers could settle on exactly what perfectly tuned meant. I can’t tell you how many of them sat in my office and gave their advice on tuning, so it was apparent we should just offer reasonably priced reeds to tune your own call. The great thing about having complete control over a product line is you can make changes quickly and without approval from anyone. We make lots of colors, even a glow-in-the-dark model, which I believe is a first. At present, we can produce 4000 calls per week and if we wanted to, we could produce 10,000 per week. Of course we do not work on weekends, God reserved weekends for hunting and fishing.Editor’s Note: For more info on WACKY QUACK DUCK CALLS go to www.omnitechmanufacturing.com or call them at 731-286-4795. - Rob Somerville

WACKY QUACK DUCK CALLSHow it all got started by owner & president: Jimmy Deese

Jeff, can you give our readers a brief overview of the history and future goals of First Citizens? First Citizens is a $1.5 billion, two bank holding company serving 10 counties across the state of Tennessee. First Citizens National Bank is proud to be celebrating its 125th birthday this year. From the merging of First National Bank and Citizens Bank, established in 1889, First Citizens National Bank evolved and has been a strong community bank, surviving even the Great Depression in the 1930’s. When the “skyscraper” was built and opened its doors in 1924, it had grand aspirations. Through the years, those aspirations have exceeded expectations. First Citizens now has 24 locations across the state of Tennessee, with the recent opening of the Jackson branch and the acquisition of Southern Heritage Bank in Cleveland, TN. FCNB is an award win-ning bank recognized #5 “Best Bank to Work For” in the USA. We are growing but our goal is to keep that small town, communi-ty bank feeling and personality in all our locations. First Citizens is deeply rooted in all counties we serve. Please give me your views as a father and the outdoor lifestyle you share with your son. John Eldredge wrote a book called “Wild at Heart” and he stated men have a desire to explore, hunt and connect to God’s cre-ation. Hunting, fishing and the great outdoors have always been part of my life. My father started me with rabbit and dove hunt-ing. My love for the outdoors grew as I became a teenager duck hunting with my long time friends, Tim McCraw, Tom Mathis, Joe King and others. I am fortunate to have a young son, Franklin, who loves to fish and hunt. The great outdoors has always been a way to reclaim your heart and connect to God by getting away from daily noises and distractions. Thanks Jeff. Editor’s Note: I highly recommend First Citizens Bank to our readers. We have all of our magazine business there and I have my personal accounts there as well. In all of my 57 years, they are the most professional - yet friendly bank I have ever dealt with. They truly understand the meaning of Southern Hospitality!- Rob Somerville

FIRST CITIZENS NATIONAL BANK

An interview with President & CEO

Mr. Jeff Agee

extend your hunting season. Whether I am hunting for them at yard sales or buying them from a reliable seller, the feel-ing I get when I find one of these items is the same as when I am pulling the trigger of my Browning A5 on a big mallard green head, fanning into my decoy spread. There is some great information out there on collecting all of the items de-scribed in this article. If anyone has question or comments, or wants to buy, sell or have me appraise their items please feel free to contact me {Rob Hurt} through my web-site at www.featheredfinds.com. Next issue, we will discuss collecting other hunting memo-rabilia. Until then, good luck this waterfowl season … and I’ll see you at the duck blind.

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Balin Horton {14-years old} of Henry County (left) bagged this trophy 10-point buck that tipped the scales at 217.8 pounds, on the opening morning of the Young Sportsmen Hunt. His 11-year old sister, Maura, bagged

her first deer on the same hunt!Photo submitted by Henry County Sheriff’s Dept.

Colton Pollock {14 years old} from Lexington, Tennessee arrowed this nice buck during the opening

week of archery season in Huron, Tennessee.Photo submitted by John Latham.


Cayson Adams - Drew Adams’ 46 lb. son, is shown lying next to two catfish from their pond.

They are huge!!Photo submitted by Outerlimit Powersports.

Our good buddy, John Latham, is shown here with some of his relatives and fellow hunters who shot 58 dove on Oct. 20th of this year.

They said they had quite a delicious feast later on. - Photo submitted by John Latham.

Jack Weaver, one of Huntingdon, Tennessee’s finest sportsmen, caught this 15 ounce bluegill in July of

2014. - Photo courtesy of Lankford Taxidermy.

Robert Parker caught this fifty pound amberjack off Gulf Shores, this past fall.

Photo submitted by Robert Parker.

Drew Smith shot this pintail in the Weakley County bottoms in

Gleason, Tennessee.Photo courtesy of Lankford

Taxidermy.

Autry Sartin and Hunter Taylor show off a few of the stingrays they shot while bowfishing in the bay at Destin, Florida on Oct 9th. They arrowed over 20

stingrays on the trip. - Photo by Steve Sartin.


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Lifestyle

Southern Traditions Outdoors - November - December 2014