September 2009 NewsletterJim Casada
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www.jimcasadaoutdoors.com Sweet SeptemberI am writing this on the first day of September, and somehow when this month rolls around my spirits are uplifted. Momentarily I’ll get into the reasons why this is the case, but first let me take care of some business. In the middle of last month I did something unprecedented in the history of this e-newsletter; namely, sending out a special edition to let you good folks know that at long last my book, Fly Fishing in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park: An Insider’s Guide to a Pursuit of Passion, had arrived. The ensuing days have been busy ones, what with filling orders, moving the books into storage (all 7,300 pounds of them, and if I don’t have a hernia it won’t be for lack of opportunity), getting out review copies, filing photos considered for use in the book, notifying folks who had asked for notice via e-mail of the book’s arrival, and the like. I’m delighted with the physical appearance of the book. The printers did me proud in terms of paper quality, binding, photo reproduction, gold stamping on the front and spine of the hardback version, the pull-out map, and more. As for the quality of the book’s contents, well, that’s a judgment best left to others. About all I can say is that it means a lot to me and it’s as good as I can do. If nothing else, the book is hefty, at a full two and a half pounds for the hardback. If you acquire the work and find it singularly lacking literary quality there’s always the option to use it for killing snakes, as a door stop, or as a paper weight. Given the fact that this is the first time I have self-published, although there are dozens of books bearing my name on the title page behind me, I’m understandably anxious for the book to do well. Not only do I have time aplenty invested, it’s my money on the line as well. Obviously my timing, given the current state of the economy, was not exactly the best. All of this translates to yours truly scrambling to promote and sell the book. In that regard, I’ll be doing a number of talks and book signings, and three of them are upcoming fairly soon. I’ll be at the Marianna Black Public Library in Bryson City on Monday, September 14 at 6:00 p.m. for a signing. That’s my home stomping grounds, the place where the background for the book began, and the library where my Mom was librarian for a decade. Obviously the region, its people, and its streams have a solid hold on a corner of my heart. If by chance you live nearby, stop in for a chat and, if you are so inclined, buy a copy of the book. Then, just under a month later, at 7:00 p.m. on the evening of November 10, I’ll be in Greensboro, North Carolina for a talk to the Nat Greene Fly Fishers (www.natgreeneflyfishers.org). I’ve spoken to this club a number of times over the years and always particularly enjoy them. That’s partly because one of the members is, like me, a son of the Smokies, and in addition there are a number of folks who always attend whom I’ve known for years. Four days later, on November 14, I’ll be at the First United Methodist Church in Sylva, N.C. throughout the day (9:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m.) to participate in the Great Smoky Mountains Book Fair. This event brings together an impressive bunch of authors, more than four dozen of them, who have written about the Smokies—everything from fiction to folklore, from poetry to my pursuit of passion, fly fishing. All of us will be available to sign books, and obviously the timing lends itself to decisions on Christmas gifts. A number of the participating authors will also give talks. I’ll be doing a program with Bob Plott, who has written on Plott hounds and mountain hunting traditions. All the authors will be around to chat with their readers, the folks who give some monetary meaning to our existence. A portion of the monies realized from book sales will go to what I consider an especially worthwhile cause, restoration of the lovely old Jackson County courthouse for use as a public library. If you live in any of these areas, stop by for a shake and howdy. Whether you buy a book or not (and obviously I hope you do), I’m always tickled to meet readers and have a chance to interact with the folks who follow these monthly scribblings. Now, with that obligatory advertorial behind us (it took me about 700 words to say—please buy a book!), let’s get down to some thoughts on sweet September. How I love the month! In just a few days I’ll be perched on a dove stool in the same place where I’ve shot (or more accurately, shot at) the grey-winged speedsters for the last quarter of a century. Within hollering distance will be my good friend Roy Turner and his two boys, whom I’ve been privileged to see grow, year by year, from toddlers to bird boys to hunters in their own right. They call me “Uncle” Jim, and I bear the moniker with pride. Roy describes opening day as “Christmas in September,” and it is as apt an expression as one could possibly wish. After all, the first day of dove shooting carries with it a sense of keen anticipation and the festive atmosphere of a holiday. There will be food so scrumptious I have no doubt whatsoever that I’ll do serious damage to my waist line. Roy’s wife, Kerry, makes a chicken bog so toothsome that just thinking about it puts my salivary glands in overdrive, while his mother, who has the intriguing name of Johnsie, often provides a hull pie made from scuppernongs that is the stuff upon which royalty wish they could dine (the recipe is provided below). There will be, for anyone who cares to pay attention to such matters, and I do, a deep sense of tradition at play. The Turner family has hosted this shoot on family land every year since 1948, through four generations, and this is a splendid, ongoing example of the fact that for the thinking sportsman hunting is only part of the experience. This gathering appeals to me so much I’ve hurried back from distant, exotic places such as Anticosti Island and the caribou grounds of far northern Canada just to be able to participate. Short of a hurricane blowing in, there will be birds aplenty, and I like the challenge to my wingshooting skills presented by these aerial acrobats as much as the next guy. But I also revel in the sights, sounds, and smells of the day. Heat waves waltz across sere September fields while mosquito hawks (we called them snake feeders when I was a boy and they are generally known as dragon flies) buzz through the air. The occasionally dust devil dances before you, and somewhere in mid-afternoon, as if by magic, the air suddenly becomes full of doves. Excited cries of “mark right,” “coming in over the trees,” “low bird,” and “behind you” ring out through the air. You scramble while trying to reload, watch incoming birds, and pick up a downed one all at once. It can’t be done, even with a canine companion, but the Chinese fire drill atmosphere makes just trying a world of fun. A cacophony of shots, sounding like a popcorn popper on steroids, rings out almost constantly. The heady aroma of burnt gunpowder drifts through the air, and as the temperatures begin to cool a bit in late afternoon you can literally smell fall. That scent is, for me, as alluring as any Chanel perfume. It is comprised of a hint of ragweed, a pinch of red clay dust, a tincture of gun oil, and the essence of something better experienced in person than described in print. All I know is that I can smell fall just as surely as I know the intense singing of jar flies (cicadas) and katydids heralds the fact that we are on the cusp between summer and fall. Then there’s the bounty of fall, and it is found not only at the meals which are an integral part of dove shoots but on the tables of anyone fortunate enough to live close to the good earth. In my garden fall raspberries are ripe, and brown turkey figs literally ooze honey-like sweetness as they hang limp in full ripeness. There’s the final crop of corn just coming in, oozing milk so sweet it is wonderful eaten raw. Nor should watermelons and muskmelons be forgotten, while okra thriving in the heat of dog days demands regular cutting. Meanwhile, it’s a good time to be out and about in the deer woods. Woodlands cry out for a September saunter to check out stands, do a bit of scouting, or merely savor thoughts of those coming rites of fall. Nature’s bounty approaches the fullness of the season as well. Soon the first white oak acorns will be dropping; already persimmons are showing hints of the yellow which will in due course turn from alum tartness to spicy orange sweetness, and paw paws are beginning to ripen. Night times are carrying a hint of cool and the humidity seems slightly less oppressive. Up in the high country where I spent much of this summer, brown trout will become increasingly restless, somehow knowing what lies ahead, and they feed readily on grasshoppers and other terrestrial insects. Rainbows too are quite active, although with both species the season demands long casts, delicate delivery, and light tippets. If you aren’t a fly fisherman, things are picking up with warm water species as well. Bass begin to chase schooling bait, slashing the surface and bringing back the joys of topwater action that one knew back in May. Then there are the wildflowers of autumn. Purple clusters of late blooming phlox along field edges, a whole array of wild asters, the regal stalks of Joe Pye week and the eye-catching purple of ironweed, and best of all, the striking loveliness of stalks of cardinal flower with all the vivid red the plant’s name suggests. Add to that the colorful display of turning dogwood berries, brilliant leaves of sumac, purple clusters of elderberries, and the first hints of yellow on hickories and poplars, and nature’s eye candy becomes quite fetching, a harbinger of October glories to come. Yes, September is sweet, mainly because it is so full of promise of what lies just ahead for the hunter and what it means in terms of another season of the earth’s growth winding its way to an end. That’s enough for this month’s chronicle. I’m off to the yard to gather a bucket of muscadines, claret globes filled with goodness, along with a type of scuppernong so sweet each grape is a special sort of ambrosia. By the time I’m done, my good wife Ann will have some fine fixin’s featuring shrimp she brought back from the coast this past weekend. Here’s that recipe along with a sampling of others, including two featuring doves if you have a good shoot. I hope you’ll find them delectable, and the dove offerings come from The Remington Cookbook which is available on my Web site. SHRIMP AND KIELBASA SKILLET2 pounds shrimp In a large, deep skillet, heat the olive oil and butter over medium high heat. Add the rice and onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until the onion is softened (about five minutes). Add the kielbasa and garlic and cook, stirring until the garlic is softened (about three minutes). Remove from the heat and stir in the tomatoes and broth and their juices. Season with salt and pepper. Bring the rice mixture to a boil, lower the heat, cover and simmer until the rice is tender (about twenty minutes). Drain peeled shrimp and add to the rice mixture. Cook over medium heat, stirring often until opaque (about five minutes). DOVE BREAST APPETIZERSDove breasts Marinate dove breasts in your favorite oil and vinegar dressing (such as Paul Newman’s Olive Oil and Vinegar) for at least four hours. Wrap a strip of bacon around each dove breast and secure with a toothpick. Place on a hot grill and cook eight to ten minutes, turning often, until center is pink (do not overcook). Tip: For variety, wrap dove breasts around “stuffers” such as half a jalapeno pepper, a slice of onion, a water chestnut, or pepper cheese. CAROLINA DOVES½ cup flour Place flour, salt, and pepper in a brown paper bag. Shake doves in bag to coat well. Heat butter and oil to medium hot and brown the birds quickly. Turn and brown on all sides. Add enough water to cover halfway up on doves. Cover the pan and simmer for one to one and a half hours or until doves are tender. Remove doves and thicken the gravy with a flour and water paste (two tablespoons flour and two tablespoons water). Serve with rice, biscuits and greens. SCUPPERNONG OR MUSCADINE PIESqueeze pulp from ripe scuppernongs or muscadines and discard inside (or save it to make jelly). Do this gently in order to retain as much of the juicy, sweet flesh attached to the hull. Do this until you have a pint of hulls. Add three-fourths cup of sugar and stir in. Cook over gentle heat until tenderized, adding half teaspoon of almond flavor and a half stick of real butter as you do so. Once tenderized, add cornstarch to thicken and as mixture begins to cool, pour over pie crust. SQUASH PIEIf you have squash (or zucchini) in such abundance the neighbors hide when they see you coming with a bag full, here’s one more option to use it. 2 cups grated raw
squash or zucchini Mix well and pour into two unbaked pie shells. Bake for forty-five minutes at 350 degrees. Thank you for subscribing to the
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