January 2013 Newsletter
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The Enduring Joys of January
First and arguably foremost, thanks to all of you who read these monthly
scribblings, occasionally take time to tell me you enjoy them, sometimes
buy a book (that was the original purpose of this newsletter, the idea
of promoting my books and others I sell, and it remains a vital part of
my scratching to earn a livelihood writing about things I cherish), for
your support. I realized I was truly having an impact when last month’s
newsletter, which mentioned in passing that it had been a ‘coon’s age
since I had enjoyed the wonderful sweetness of a chocolate-covered
cherry or for that matter even seen one, brought me an absolutely
delightful response from not one but two readers. Bill Robinson and Stan
LaFollette both sent me boxes of these sinfully delicious treats, and
I’m rationing them out at the rate of one piece per day in a most
delightful way. This isn’t a hint for gifts to tempt the taste (goodness
knows my lead New Year’s resolution ought to be the shedding of an
abundance of surplus avoirdupois), but rather an expression of genuine
appreciation.
Secondly, all the best in 2013 to each and every one of you who honor me
by reading this monthly rendering of ramblings, recollections, and
reminiscences. I wish you health, good cheer, and (dare I say it when
our putative leaders in Washington seem to me to be absolutely clueless
on budgetary matters and pretty much everything else), prosperity. I
simply wish that these elected officials, all matters of party,
perspective, and persuasion aside, had my life’s work experiences or
those I suspect most of you have had as well. Our president wouldn’t
have a clue on how to skin a rabbit, load and shoot a shotgun, slop
hogs, pull weeds, pluck a chicken, or hoe a row of corn. The same is
likely true for well over half of the members of the Senate and the
House. They are by and large out-of-touch elitists (descriptions such as
pantywaist poltroons come to mind) who know little of the common man,
have lost an understanding of the goodness and uplifting nature of a
staunch work ethic, have decided to worship the false god of
entitlements in shameful fashion, and are anything but true leaders. How
far we have gone, and in the wrong direction, from men like Theodore
Roosevelt. That’s my opinion, and that’s rant enough for now. Let’s turn
to far more pleasant things, although again, I hope the 12 months which
lie ahead bring you joy.
For me, January has always been a time of mixed feelings of
anticipation, savoring a time of year others somehow find grey and grim,
enjoying the absence of other hunters in the woods once the madness of
the whitetail season has come and gone, maybe spending a day afield
after an overnight snow and the incomparable opportunities such an event
offers (at least in this part of the world) for assessing the game on
your land, and more. There’s the strange noise of a woodcock taking
flight from its daytime seclusion in a cane brake or creek bottom, the
small but sure rush of adrenalin from jumping a rabbit while rambling
and then trying to get a shot, or the peaceful contemplation to be found
in hours spent still hunting squirrels. All of these things are at least
as much about soothing the soul as they are about the actual hunting
experience. If perchance one ends the day with some heft in the game
bag, that is just what that grand old poet laureate of bobwhites,
Havilah Babcock, described as “the lace on the bride’s pajamas.
Along with these solitary rambles, something my misanthropic soul has
savored since boyhood in the Smokies, there are the more mundane but
still satisfying aspects of January. Maybe an evening spent reading a
good book while snuggled up in comfort with the weather outside
exhibiting the kind of symptoms which produce cabin fever. Or perhaps
something as simple as a hearty bowl of scrumptious soup, flanked by a
goodly slab of cornbread made with stone-ground meal and slathered with
plenty of butter. Then there’s the joy of planning for the coming time
of spring with all her greening-up glories. Just today, for example, I
placed a large order for Heritage raspberry plants. My old patch had
pretty well run its course, and I’ve tilled some new ground, far from
any fungus or other vestiges of too long in one place, for the plants.
The seed catalogs have arrived, and anyone closely connected with the
good earth and with growing what they eat knows the joy these catalogs
bring (never mind that I buy 90% of my seed, sets, and plants from a
locally owned place which handles bulk seed). With their colorful
pictures and tempting offers of news plants and seeds, they are in a
sense a throwback to the Sears and Montgomery-Ward catalogs of
yesteryear.
For the hunter/gatherer/gardener, there are always chores in January.
How fondly I remember cracking and shelling walnuts when I was a boy,
and I’ve got a bushel of them, all cured and awaiting application of a
handy, dandy device a friend of mine, Ken Roper, made. The blueberry
patch needs its annual dose of attention in the form of a bit of
judicious removal of dead wood, pulling up of “intruders” and dealing
with that vegetative invention of Beelzebub, sweet gum sprouts.
Similarly, with a couple of buddies who help me maintain my little “Back
40” (it’s actually more like a “Back 100”), some trails need treatment,
some stands need relocation, there are shooting lanes to be cut, and we
have a couple of new food plots in mind. Besides, activities of this
sort, whether garden-related or connected with hunting, get me out of
the house.
Grandpa Joe used to muse about the need to escape the women folks when
winter got rough, and the older I get the more I understand. Mind you, I
am sure that the female side of the equation feels exactly the same, and
in fact my good missus just returned from a weekly knitting class which
has give her great pleasure (although judging by occasional infusions of
earthy vocabulary she normally eschews, all this purling seems at times
to be like pearls before swine). What I’m trying to say, quite simply,
is that January is a season of the year which lends itself to time
alone.
My misanthropic moments are in no way the product of later years or
something which has only recently emerged. From the time I was a boy I
loved to spend hours alone in the fields and woods around home. I could
literally walk out the door and start hunting. On two different
occasions I killed a rabbit within 50 yards of the house and nearby
there was a large covey of quail which haunted a 50-acre patch of old,
overgrown fields. I routinely flushed them in my rambles. Within a
couple of miles (as a boy I thought nothing of covering a dozen miles or
more in a day, most of it pushing through briar thickets and dense brush
or else climbing steep ridges) of home there were fine squirrel woods,
and on multiple occasions I killed grouse in the course of my
meanderings. My only companions on the most memorable of these jaunts
were canines, and sometimes even the family beagles were not allowed to
tag along.
I could stop when the spirit seized me. Maybe just sitting atop a log
while munching an apple or leaning against a tree along a ridge line
which afforded a fine view of the Tuckasegee River Valley, the Alarka
Mountains, or the main spine of the Appalachians high up on the
headwaters of my home waters, Deep Creek and its tributaries. If a
squirrel happened to show up during these pauses, so much the better;
but I was perfectly happy to be left with my thoughts and the peace of
winter woods.
Note I did not say “quiet peace,” because whenever I read some writer
who equates solitude afield with silence I know one of two things is
true—he’s either taking a great deal of literary license or else he
hasn’t spent much time sampling the subject of which he writes. No
matter the season, the woods and wilds are never quiet. Whether it is
raucous crows, laughing owls, twittering birds greeting dawn or bidding
the day adieu, woodpeckers hammering away, hawks screaming, squirrels
barking, coyotes howling in their wonderfully lonesome way, the sharp
bark of a fox, the squeal of a rabbit caught by that fox, deer scurrying
or turkeys scratching through dry leaves, nature knows little silence.
As Robert Ruark once suggested, in his inimitable way, the woods are a
veritable Tower of Babel. Still, I find the sounds of the wilds a
comfort, not a cause for concern or irritation.
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This Month’s Special Offerings
Offer #1
“Cuz” Strickland’s Triology
If you are a
hunter and know anything about Mossy Oak camo or watch their
“Hunting the Country” television productions, you will recognize
the name “Cuz” Strickland (his first name is actually Ronnie,
but no one ever uses it). He is a warm, outgoing guy, big as the
side of a granite mountain and just as solid (never mind his
morbid fear of snakes, and if you purchase this month’s first
special you can learn more of that in my introductory material
to the second of his three books). I’ve had the privilege of
spending a lot of time with Cuz in hunt camps and other settings
over the years, and I enjoy teasing him about knowing him long
before he became famous as a TV personality and industry icon.
He’s a
first-rate storyteller and superb turkey hunter (never mind that
our views on calling are diametrically opposed), and he shares a
wealth of his experiences in the sport in The Truth, The
Whole Truth, and Nothing But the Truth. I’m
offering signed copies of the three books, all of them in
hardback format, for $50 postpaid. If you don’t find him
entertaining and enlightening, then I have a thought and a
recommendation. First, the thought--your funny bone or laugh
meter is out of whack. Second, the recommendation--you need to
schedule an appointment, and soon, with a psychiatrist.
However, I won’t
go as far as good buddy Jim Spencer recently did in writing an
encomium (that’s a $10 word for a blurb or recommendation) for
my most recent book, Remembering the Greats: Profiles of
Turkey Hunting’s Old Masters.
He suggested that “if you’re
not entertained, if you don’t pick up something you didn’t know,
I’ll eat the guts of your next turkey.” Many of you have
acquired the book already, but if you are a turkey hunter and
care anything at all about the sport’s past, this collection of
27 profiles of turkey hunting’s icons should be most attractive
to you ($39.95+$5 shipping and handling).
I’m the last person to judge its merits, but I can
honestly say the book has a lot of my heart and soul in it.
Similarly, my firm belief is that if you are a turkey hunter and
haven’t read Cuz’s stuff, you are missing a treat.
Offer #2
It’s Venison Time
This is actually
a repeat offer, since I tend to think of January in terms of
hearty meals of venison (my season was satisfactory with meat
from three fine bucks now residing in the family freezer).
Ann and I
reprinted The Complete Venison Cookbook, which sold tens
of thousands of copies in the original and shot up to ridiculous
prices on the Internet after going out of print.
I’ll send the
book, with upwards of 200 venison recipes, for $15 postpaid.
You’ll find a sampling of recipes from it at the end of this
month’s musings.
You can order online now by using the "Add
to Cart" buttons above, or
just send a check to me c/o 1250 Yorkdale Drive, Rock Hill, SC
29730.
Tel.: 803-329-4354
E-mail: jc@jimcasadaoutdoors.com |
Those precious boyhood days of solitude and thought continue with me and
if anything, I cherish them more now than I did those long decades ago.
Indeed, if I manage to finish this newsletter and polish up an
assignment on turkey hunting I’m doing for Outdoor Life far
enough ahead of day’s end, I intend to go for a couple of hours’ walk
this afternoon. I’ll carry a gun and will welcome any opportunity
afforded for a shot at a cottontail, a squirrel, a woodcock, or a dove
(I think that if I flushed a covey of quail I’d likely be so
thunderstruck as to forget to shoot—they are that scarce today in this
part of the world). I’ll pay some attention to favored deer bedding
areas and heavily used trails; take note of any thinning which needs to
be done around persimmon trees, honey locusts, or young white oaks (to
encourage them to grow faster without competition); and contemplate
placement of a food plot or two. Mainly though, I’ll just pause and
ponder, dream and scheme, as I have done all the days of my life which
lie within the scope of my memory.
There are, to my way of thinking, few actions which are more refreshing
and rejuvenating. Call is laziness if you will, but I’d like to think
I’ve got a solid work ethic. Instead, my preference is to consider these
times alone ones of charging mental and physical batteries, thinking
about matters which lie ahead, and yes, since it is January, resolving
to accomplish certain things in the course of 2013.
Perhaps you find similar approaches refreshing, and if not, I would
humbly suggest that maybe, just maybe, you are too busy. Or, on the flip
side of things, you might consider the wisdom inherent in thoughts from
my Grandpa Joe: “Just because a fellow likes to be alone or just because
he needs some thinking time doesn’t mean he’s trifling.”
Again, all the best for 2013, thanks for your support, and
let me hear from you with any suggestions you have for improving these monthly
offerings in terms of what you would like to see, whether you find
regular features (special offers, recipes, comments on my schedule, and
lists of my reading) worthwhile, and more. I welcome input, and you
ain’t likely to hurt my feelings. I’ve dealt with too many editors, had
too many words rewritten (only to make them worse), and made too many
mistakes not to develop a pretty darn thick hide. Or maybe I’ve
gradually adopted the attitude Grandpa Joe had whenever things surfaced
with which he disagreed. He’d mumble, shake his head a bit, and say:
“They’ll learn; they’ll learn.” Me? I’m still in the process of
learning.
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Let’s conclude with a list of what I’ve been reading and my monthly
offering of recipes. All of those for venison come straight from the
pages of one of this month’s special offers, The Complete Venison
Cookbook.
Recent Reading
Continuing my practice in recent newsletters, I’m sharing a sampling of
what I’ve been reading the last few weeks. My tastes are moderately
eclectic, although they lean heavily towards history, biography and
autobiography, adventure, most any type of outdoor activity, and
mysteries. Of late I’ve been on a biography/memoir kick.
Those with an asterisk (*) are ones I
think you might find interesting.
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Lovat Dickson, Wilderness Man: The Strange Story of Grey Owl.
Archie Belaney was an Englishman who traveled to the Canadian
northland at the turn of the 20th century and went
native. The essence of his fascinating story did not emerge until
after his death in 1938.
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*Robert Easton and Mackenzie Brown, Lord of Beasts: The Saga of
Buffalo Jones. This is a biography of the fascinating figure who
played the major role in saving the bison, was a friend of Theodore
Roosevelt, furnished material aplenty for Zane Grey, and was
altogether a fascinating figure.
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Alice Ford, John James Audubon: A Biography. Exceptionally
detailed and well researched, this life at times reads wonderfully
well while at others dragging. It is the standard life of Audubon
and anyone who has much interest at all in ornithology needs to read
it (although there was much more to Audubon than study of birds). I
found it most interesting but the author, even though she wrote a
number of books, is clueless when it comes to transition.
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Frank Johnson, Great Days. The autobiography of one of the
key figures in the Pioneer Column which penetrated into and started
settlement of what became Rhodesia (today’s Zimbabwe). My primary
interest comes from study of Fred Selous, another member of the
Column. Johnson basically trashes Selous in this book.
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Eric Parker, Memory Looks Forward. Parker was a noted English
writer of the early 20th century who wrote or edited many
important works on hunting, fishing, and shooting. He worked for
The Field, a noted British publication on sport and country
life, for many years. The book is really enjoyable until the final
seven chapters, when he goes off the deep end on spiritualism, the
occult, séances where he talks to his deceased wife, and the like.
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*Ferrol Sams, Run with the Horsemen. This is actually a
re-read, and for the umpteenth time. If you aren’t familiar with
this book and its two companion volumes, Whisper of the River
and When All the World Was Young, do you ever have a treat
awaiting you. A Georgia country boy who became a doctor, Sams writes
with wit, humor, and insight, and if he doesn’t have you laughing
you were born without a humor gene.
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*Herbert L. Stoddard, Sr., The Memoirs of a Naturalist.
Stoddard was and likely always will be the pre-eminent bobwhite
quail biologist, but there was much more to the career of this
talented and most interesting may. I find the techniques of his time
fascinating, because he shot a lot of rare birds—it was considered
imperative to prove one had been sighted in a given region. On the
other hand, he was a visionary when it came to controlled burning.
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Frank N. Streatfield, Sporting Recollections of an Old ‘Un.
Streatfield was one of those peripatetic Englishmen of the late
Victorian era for whom sport was almost a way of life. This book
covers bird hunting, fly fishing, a bit of cricket and a way of life
which is gone forever. It was a golden time in the sun for those
hardy men, such as Streatfield, who ruled an empire on which the sun
never set.
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*Bryce Towsley, The 14th Reinstated. I’ve been a
friend of the author, one of America’s leading gun writers and a man
who really knows his craft, for decades. In this book he makes his
first foray into fiction, and it’s a dandy. There’s a mixture of
survivalist realities, adventure, anti-liberal outlook (if possible,
Towsley is more conservative than I am), and straightforward good
reading. The underlying message is a cautionary tale for our times.
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Frederick Turner, Rediscovering America: John Muir in His Time
and Ours. A reasonably well researched biography of Muir
(although it is not a scholarly effort). Muir was a strange and
fascinating fellow, and for the most part this book chronicles his
life well. However, the conclusion, with Muir’s death, is in my view
poorly handled.
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*Johann Wyss, Swiss Family Robinson. I gave my granddaughter
this book for Christmas and thought it might be a good idea to
re-read this classic. The survivalist aspects of the book have
always appealed to me.
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RECIPES
BRENDA’S SOUPER STEW
2 pounds venison, cut into chunks
1 can cream of potato soup
1 can cream of mushroom soup
1 can cream of celery soup
1 package dry onion soup mix
1 can water
Place venison chunks in Dutch oven. Mix all soups and water and pour
over venison. Bring to a boil, reduce heat and simmer until tender (1 ½
to 2 hours). Serve over rice or pasta. Simple, swift, and scrumptious.
CHERRY VENISON STEW
¼ cup canola oil
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon black pepper
2 pounds venison, cut into two-inch cubes
1 can (12-ounce) cola
1 small bottle maraschino cherry juice (reserve cherries and cut in half
2 cups chopped pecans
Hot cooked noodles
Heat oil in skillet. Mix flour, salt and pepper. Toss venison cubes with
flour (a paper bag works well). Brown venison in oil. Remove from
skillet and drop in saucepan in which cola and cherry juice are boiling.
Reduce heat to low and cook one and a half hours (or until tender). Stir
occasionally. Add cherries and nuts. Simmer additional 30 minutes or
until meat is tender and gravy is thick. Serve over hot cook noodles.
Delightfully different.
BARLEY VENISON SOUP
1 cup fine barley, rinsed and drained
1 small onion
4 cups beef broth
3 cups frozen mixed vegetables, thawed
1 46-ounce can tomato juice
3 or four cups leftover venison stew (or substitute an equal amount of
venison burger you have browned in a skillet)
1 teaspoon sugar
Salt and pepper to taste
Bring broth to a boil and add washed barley, chopped onion, and mixed
vegetables. Cook on low about 40 minutes until barley and vegetables are
done. Add tomato juice and leftover stew and seasonings. Simmer until
hot.
SPLIT PEA SOUP
1 cup chopped, cooked ham
1 cup chopped venison kielbasa
½ pound dried split green peas
2 carrots, chopped
2 potatoes, peeled and chopped
1 small onion, chopped
6 cups water
Salt and pepper to taste
In a large kettle combine ham, venison kielbasa, peas, carrots,
potatoes, onion, 6 cups water, and salt and pepper. Bring to a boil.
Reduce heat and simmer covered one hour or until peas are tender. With a
potato masher, mash vegetables right in kettle. Simmer uncovered about
15 minutes for a thick, hearty soup.
BLACKBERRY DUMPLINGS
1 quart frozen blackberries (thawed)
1 cup sugar (or to taste)
Enough water to thin berries and enough to cook dumplings
Dumplings
1 cup flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
¼ teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon sugar
1 cup milk
Place blackberries, sugar and water in saucepan and heat to boiling.
Meanwhile, mix dumpling ingredients thoroughly and drop tablespoon by
tablespoon into boiling berries. Cook for 15 minutes or until dumplings
are cooked through the center. Serve hot with ice cream.
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Appearances and Activities
Other than a radio talk with Ray Eye recently, and a
birthday towards month’s end which will remind me of two things in
powerful, poignant fashion--that time is marching on in terms of my age
and my father’s death (he died just a day after my 69th
birthday, and I get misty eyed every time I think about him trying to
call me and wish me well less than 24 hours before he passed at the age
of 101 after a wonderfully full life well lived), I don’t have a lot
going on in terms of public events this month.
That changes dramatically in February.
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I’ll be at
the
National Wild Turkey Federation convention
in
Nashville for the whole show (Feb. 15, 16, and 17), and if you
want to contact me in advance to bring a book or two along or maybe
just to shake and howdy, drop me an e-mail.
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For those living in the Carolinas, the week before I’ll be one of
the featured speakers at the Fly Fishing Show in Winston-Salem, N.C.
I will offer two seminars on Feb. 9 and two more on Feb. 10,
and at other times I’ll have a booth where I’ll be peddling books
and chewing the fat. If you want full details on the Show, visit
www.flyfishingshow.com
and click the Winston-Salem link.
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Several months on down the road,
on the weekend of May 17-18, I’ll be at the annual conclave of the
Southeastern Federation of Fly Fishers in Cullowhee, N.C. Again I’ll
be giving multiple presentations and will have a booth. This is
right in the back yard of my old stomping grounds and is an ideal
location for this gathering. There’s trout fishing aplenty within an
hour’s drive.
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Thank you for subscribing to the
Jim Casada Outdoors
newsletter.
Feel free to contact Jim with your comments, questions
or suggestions at jc@jimcasadaoutdoors.com.
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