Is Conservation Preservation - Part 2

Alaskan Arctic Grayling are living beings

In Part 1, I remembered an experience that has left me somewhat traumatized.   I think a lot about conservation and how we can better create a sustainable fishery in South Dakota.  One question that I consistently ask myself is: Do we use conservation as an excuse to justify catch and release fishing?    Yes, I may be releasing the fish relatively unharmed, but how many others are?  

Morals are very important to me.  I am a 'live and let live' kind of person as long as your living is not causing harm to others.  And by others, I don't only mean human beings.  Most of us are so ignorant to believe that we are the only lifeforms on earth who feel pain or emotions.  We ignorantly and subjectively deem many living things as "insignificant" or "unworthy" of life just because they are small, different, or not human.  This is a big problem for me.

Yes, I kill things.  I shoot pheasants during hunting season and occasionally clean fish for the dinner table.  I understand my place on the food chain, and am willing to utilize the tools I've had the good fortune of being born with...here at the top of the chain.  But we are lying to ourselves if we consider each other saintly as catch and release people.  Because that is just not always the case.   I know some fishing enthusiasts who don't seem to understand that a fish should not be dropped on the shoreline, or handled out of water for more than 5-10 seconds at a time.  What type of damage are we causing to the fish in the long run?  Not to mention the fact that we are embedding a hook in their face and dragging them to shore.  The lactic acid that builds up within the muscles of the fish can cause death long after the fish has tail flipped back to the depths.

I liken it to the way we lie to ourselves about this experience not being about the fish.  It's always about the fish in some way.  The battle is won when a fish is brought to hand.  Photos feed the ego and quench the appetite of your friends who clamor for evidence of your conquest.  The ability to hold a living wild animal in your hands, having the will to choose if it lives or dies gives us a primal hard-on.  If it's not about the fish, then why not just go for a hike, or sit in the sun?  The fly rod we carry along incriminates us without question.

A friend of mine in Germany asked me about fishing.  He wasn't familiar with fly fishing, so we got into that a bit.  When he asked if I really like to eat fish, I informed him that I almost exclusively release the fish I catch.  "You mean you drag them in and then let them go back to the stream?" (my German accent is horrible, I know) he questioned.  "Well, that's not very nice is it?  How would you feel if you were hooked in the face manhandled and thrown back into the water?" he continued.  His sincere analysis made me double take for a moment.  "I guess you're right," I floundered.  

Seeing his point was like looking into the sun for the first time, and not looking away.  I was blind to the things that had drawn me to fishing in the first place.  But time and reflection brought back my muddled vision.  I return to my place on top of the food chain.  Our instincts as humans to outfox our prey won over in the end.  The gratification I get from creating a simple fly with feathers and fur and presenting it to a wild animal in such a way that they mistaken for their breakfast, lunch, or dinner is empowering.  My ability to foil an escape at every turn of their tail legitimizes my existence.  When the fish does finally come to hand, my movements are precise and quick, for the challenge of returning the fish unharmed is almost as great as the challenge to catch the fish in the first place.

I will take more pride in my practice, and work harder to teach others about the importance of treating these animals with respect.  After all, I would certainly appreciate that if I was a fish.  Do unto others...human or otherwise.

Is conservation preservation - Part 1

Chase the Rainbow, be the Rainbow

I had a nightmare last night.  One that reoccurs from time to time.  As I'm walking down to a creek that is frequented by many, a young lad approaches me to help him identify a fish he had just landed.  Happy to help, I follow him to a 5 or 6 lb rainbow trout gasping for breath on the shoreline while a large aberdeen hook and attached night crawler hang from it's gaping mouth.  I have this nightmare every-so-often because it was an actual experience.  As we walked to the fish, the kid was explaining to me that he has a large rainbow mounted on his wall and he wanted to mount a brown trout.  He was checking with me to see if this rainbow trout was a brown trout.  He had no intentions of keeping a rainbow, and yet, there it lay.

I hurried the fish into the creek.  It was spring, and the water was ice cold.  I sat holding this fish under water for about 15 minutes, but it seemed like an hour.  I don't recall at what point I lost feeling in my arms and hands.  I don't know how long the fish had been out of water, but I'm sure some damage had been done.  Eventually, the big fish gingerly swam back into the darkness of the hole. I sat and waited, long after the kid had left, to ensure it didn't float downstream or go belly up in the hole.  I didn't see it again, but I had a feeling that it was not going to make it, and it took the wind out of my fishing sales before I even began.

It got me thinking about a radiolab podcast I listed to recently.  The story follows a wealthy businessman in Texas.  Long story short, he bids on an endangered Black Rhino hunt, and a radio producer follows him on his adventure.  What results is a dramatic discussion about conservation and the morals surrounding it.  Give it a listen.  Whichever side of the fence you are on with this topic, I'm sure you will enjoy it.

http://www.radiolab.org/story/rhino-hunter/

Part 2 of this blog post coming soon. Stay tuned...

The Sandhills

While fishing in the beautiful Black Hills this past weekend, I was reminded of a trip we had taken down to the Sandhills of Nebraska a few years back.  It was also brought to my attention that a video was never produced.  Well, I hope this one accurately portrays the beauty of the area and the fish we had an opportunity to view up close and personal.  It was a great trip!



Snake River from Buddy Seiner on Vimeo.

Road Hunting for Arctic Grayling

Deciphering the code of the Arctic Grayling

We had already had an amazing time in Alaska.  A whirlwind adventure that took us through Grizzly country, crystal clear Arctic Grayling creeks, fast and furious Silver Salmon runs and a deep see arm workout for the ages.  So why was I hesitant to bring up my desire to fish one more day, our last in Alaska?

We were on our way to relax in the Chena Hot Springs, a beautiful resort at the end of Chena Hot Springs road, east of Fairbanks.  At five or six locations along the 45 minute drive, the North Fork of the Chena River crossed under the highway.  Each time we went over another bridge, I had a perfect view of excellent grayling water.  Our flight wasn't scheduled until the evening of the next day, so a morning fishing adventure wouldn't really be an unusual suggestion if it weren't for us being run ragged from the two weeks prior.  So when I threw it out there to Uncle Al that I would like to try fishing in the morning, I wasn't too surprised when he started scheming right along with me.  Our plan:  to drive up to Chena again in the morning, and road hunt our way back to North Pole.

Scouting water takes some time.  When time isn't a luxury you have, scouting becomes a lot more work.  While we did drive down to a few spots, we ultimately determined that the best bang for our time buck would come by stopping at each bridge and checking for fish.  The first spot looked promising.  A long stretch of slower water on the back side of a riffle.  A seam that stretched for about 30 yards and fish where holding in all feeding lanes and along the shoreline.  A red copper john and hot spot hares ear combo did the trick for me.  Getting down to the fish was critical, and when you did, you found plenty willing to bite.  Fish, after fish, after fish.  

Everything I had read about grayling fishing had been accurate up to this point.  Pick a fly (dark in color) and show it to them.  They'll eat it more often than not.  So when we pulled up on the Chena and found these fish holding deep, it was fun to try some deep nymphing to more particular fish.  After catching a lot of grayling, we hopped back in the truck to hunt for the next spot.  Each stop after presented new challenges and beautiful fish.  A great end to an amazing adventure.  Arctic grayling and their home waters are prevalent in Alaska.  If you have a chance to get there, do some road hunting.  You won't regret it!

Aspire to be great, but expect little

Double trouble on a tough day

By my calculations, it was June the last time I casted to a hungry carp on Lake X.  I pondered this while dreaming of what Saturday morning would bring.  With the fall weather finally upon us, thoughts of 2014 danced in my head.  My daydream began with me parking on the side of the gravel road.  The crisp September air prompted the addition of my windbreaker before rigging up.  A quick glance up at the lake left my jaw on the tailgate of my truck while I watched hundreds of common carp sipping on the surface.  What a morning at Lake X that was.

Flash forward to present time reality, and my alarm was already set.  On the road by 6:30, fishing by 7.  I picked up Burt before heading north.  With rain in the forecast for that morning, we wanted to make it with plenty of fishing time to spare.  Recent experiences, along with limited exposure to Lake X over the summer, had forced high expectations upon my rational thought processes.  Today was going to be a great day!  

We arrived to cool, calm, foggy conditions.  Seemingly perfect for fall fishing.  But where were the fish?  Usually, the drive along the rip rap offers up mouth watering anticipation.  Strike one for expectations.  No worries!  They're probably all back in the bay.  We come around the corner expecting to see fish crashing out of the water, and cruising the surface, only to find...nothing.  Steeeeerike two for expectations!  We gear up and begin moving toward the old road bed.

Walking this shoreline on a normal day would have an angler pushing out shallow carp with only a puff of Lake X mud as a sign that they were there.  Today, only painted turtles scooted out of our way.   Curiouser and curiouser.  As we come up to the road bed I stop suddenly.  The large golden back belonging to a six or seven pound carp stood out from the rocks about 15 feet ahead.  Before I had a chance to strip out some line, he had turned and leisurely swam off.  I walk to the road bed...Nothing.  Steeeerike Three!  Expectations had gone out the door at this point.  We were grasping at straws searching for answers.  As we started for the rip rap, the answer became apparent.  Big schools of what we call "floatillas" (large groups of carp on top of the water in the form of a raft) were scattered across the main part of the lake.  Reaching them was impossible at this point, so we continued on to the rip rap, hoping they would eventually move closer to shore.

One step forward, they swim two feet back

The rip rap offered little relief from our difficult start to the fishing day.  On the plus side, there were fish.  All along the shoreline.  The bad news...they were small fish keeping plenty of distance.  We took one step forward, they swam two feet back.  As soon as you would get within casting range, they would disperse.  After casting to a few groups, we decided to make our way back to the road bed.  

15.49 #s

It's looking pretty grim at this point.  If fish hadn't moved near the road bed, or into the back bay, we'd be reconsidering out fishing options.  Fortunately, we arrived at the road bed to find a few floatillas, and some individual fish cruising the surface.  While they were also playing hard to get, we were finally able to sight fish for specific carp. What a relief that is!  After only a few minutes of inching towards fish, I hook up.  "Fish on?" asked Burt.  "Fish on!" I replied.  I was still hesitant to begin celebrating a hook up considering our luck so far that morning.  Maybe I snagged it, my leader might break, I might lose him on a run, etc.   But when I saw the hook firmly embedded in the golden bone's top lip,  I exhaled with relief, "Ahhhh, top lip."  It was a nice first fish too.  15 pounds and some change.

After a few more fish, and a double, the wind began to make things a bit more difficult.  Six fish by 11:30 wasn't so bad given our situation.  We took it in stride, along with our lesson for the day.  High aspirations, low expectations.  You never know what you're going to get.

Fishing Buddy Code

Don't get slapped by that tail...

The walleye bite must have slowed significantly.  The curiosity of the walleye angler cruising by for the second time made that evident.  Of course, I was working to haul in a 15+ pound common carp from the depths of one northeast South Dakota glacial lake.  A heavyweight bout captivating enough for at least one spectator.  Fortunately, we were the only ones on the water on a beautiful Sunday morning.  With big fish all around me, the sun at my back, and blue skies on the horizon, this was shaping to be a perfect fishing adventure.  There was only one problem...this wasn't my spot to try.

Common after common fell by the guides of my new 8 wt Quest II.  Presentation options ranged from big fish feeding/lounging in the rip rap to cruising shadows on the shallow gravel beach.  In all instances, fish were ready and willing to destroy my fly.  As my hands stung from line burns, and my muscles ached from consecutive fights, I couldn't help but feel guilty about being there alone.  You see, it was supposed to be tandem trip, but circumstances (as they usually do) got in the way.  It all started with a new message on July 7th.

It was all set, an overnight trip to the northeast for a carp hunting adventure.  The day of departure was when things began to unravel.  Unforeseen circumstances and bad luck led to us postponing our trip.  There was still a possibility for me, however, because I had planned a family trip to the same area for the weekend.  The plan was to spend two days chasing carp in tag-team mode before meeting up with my family to spend the weekend in Watertown.  I brought the fly rod just in case.  When the kids were running around at 11:00 p.m. on Saturday night, I new Sunday morning would be my opportunity to break away for a quick trip. I was out the door at 6:30 a.m., fishing by 7:30, and on my way back to the hotel at 9:30 with sore arms and a shit-eating grin a mile wide.

Was it wrong for me to "scout" this new spot?  It felt wrong going without the guy who told me about it.  Or maybe it was just the fact that I had nobody to share my excitement when stalking a 15 + pound fish with his nose in the rocks and tail in the air.   Spots like that are meant to be shared, and I was hogging it all.  There has got to be some line in the Fishing Buddy Code that condones this behavior, right?  I'll look into it.  Until then, I'll have to look at the bright side, we'll no longer be starting from square one when we do finally make the trip to this carp paradise.

Don't call me an expert!

What do you think when someone is given the "expert" title?  Better yet, what are your thoughts on self proclaimed "experts" in any field?  I read an email lately from a membership organization regarding an upcoming meeting.  The email referenced a guided trip that has been offered to the auction block for an upcoming fundraiser.  The individual offering the trip was proclaimed an "expert" in the particular fishing experience being considered.  I don't know this guide, and I don't know if the "expert" title was given by his constituents, or self proclaimed.  One thing is for sure, the "expert" title does nothing to sell me on one's abilities.  What does it take to acquire the expert title?  Do you have to write a book?  Host a seminar?  Have so many year experience in a particular field?  Know so much more than everyone else?

I cringe when I hear the term "expert".  I think of elitists.  I think of talking heads who speak at people rather than with people in their given field.  I think of people who demand respect and admiration because of who they are or things they've accomplished.  I think of someone who has surpassed the need for educating themselves on any particular topic.  It was Abraham Lincoln that said, "once we stop learning we're dead."  I firmly believe that.  If anyone fails to see a need for educating themselves on a particular subject, they have made the decision to stop progressing.  That's not for me.  I believe that there is always someone that can teach me something.  Or as my dad used to say, "There is always someone better."  Which is why we should constantly strive for improvement.

I realize that this is likely an exaggeration, especially in the fly fishing world.  The majority of folks I come across, while amazing fly fishers, are very humble and ready to learn.  This soapbox is for those who aren't.  Remember to check your ego and attitude stream-side.

    

Tying with Kids...Round 2

Tying up a storm...A beautiful sight

I was beginning to question my rationale.  I had only just returned from a two week trip abroad and the tying clinic was on Saturday!  "Stay calm," I thought.  With all arrangements seemingly in place, maybe my anxiety was unwarranted.  But I get this way when I host events.  I want to ensure each and every participant finds value in what we are offering, especially with a tying clinic.

This was the 2nd annual Kids Tying clinic, and I was excited to have nine children signed up to participate.  Tim Bjork and Jason Burt were kind enough to join as Tuesday Tyer expert instructors, and Nick Lowery from the Capital Journal joined to share his love for the sport.  Of course, many parents stuck around as well and really helped out.

After some careful reflection, all of the Tuesday Tyers who participated had so many positive things to say about the students in this year's class.  To the four first-year students: your determination and excitement fueled the fire within all of us.  Trying something new can be difficult, but you showed no signs of distress or discomfort.  The immediate skill at the vice was also a surprise to us.  Some of the flies produced by these first time tyers rival those that come from all of our vises, and I'd be willing to bet that they will catch just as many fish (which is a lot)  : )

To the returning students: we have officially dubbed you all "rogue tyers".  This was so fun to see from our perspective, because as a fly tyer, experimentation is a part of learning.  After that first fly, you were ready and willing to try some new patterns.  My constant requests for questions were only met with, "nope, we're good" replies.  Fur and feathers were flying everywhere as you were swapping fish stories and pattern advice.  If you ever wondered what the Tuesday Tyers crew does during the winter time, all you needed to do was look to that table of kids.  That's basically it...  Again, the skill and excitement shown at the vice brought us all a lot of joy.


So from all of the Tuesday Tyers, I'd like to thank everyone who participated in this fun event.  We could not have done it without some great sponsors and local businesses who helped out a bunch.  Please check them out when you have some time, and support fly fishing in South Dakota.  Their logos are listed below.  

We hope to continue this tradition next spring, hopefully making it more beneficial for all in attendance.  Until that time, please make a commitment to get your children out with a fly rod.  Whether in the backyard or off the dock, practice will help build confidence, and that will help them catch more fish.  Getting out on the water wouldn't hurt either, so get out and enjoy some parent sibling time!   Have a great summer!  

To Share a Spot

The spot...

How does it feel to be a fly flinger?  Heck, sometimes it feels fantastic.  Wandering the shoreline of Lake Sharp with my pup Lucy catching carp, walleye, catfish, white bass, smallmouth bass, crappie, gar, drum...fuew!  Catching fish on the fly never gets old!

And when you're on...well, there is just no stopping' you.  Eventually people take notice of your catch rates.  Fly fishing is already intriguing to most in my neck of the woods.  Add mass quantities of hook sets, and you've got a spectacle on your hands folks.  In general, I would argue that a fly angler is more intriguing than a person sitting on the shoreline watching a bobber.  Just the other day I was catching white bass when a father yelled to his daughters at the neighboring beach,  "Go watch that gentleman fly fish!"  Soon, four little girls, seven or eight years old, had hurried over to see what I was catching.  I caught another immediately, and they were in awe.  "Cool dad!  He just caught another fish!  It was a white bass!"

I don't know about you, but it makes me feel good.  Yeah, you are getting kids excited about the outdoors, and fly fishing, but you almost feel like a celebrity.  People want to watch you, ask you for advice, take your photo.  And then, there are those who want to fish near you.

On that very evening, a father-son team had hustled over to the bank, bobber rigs and minnows ready for action.  I was fishing a point off the mouth of a small creek.  The white bass had begun patroling for the thousands of baitfish that were present.  Unfortunately for the father-son duo, there were fewer fish near their spot and they were much less active than the fish off the point.  Plus, dusk was upon us.  So there I was, landing fish, after fish, after fish and feeling really great until...I looked back toward the duo.  Bobbers resting motionless in the water.  Father and three year old son waiting patiently for a strike.  Emotions sprung up in me like a sudden thunderstorm.  A rush of selfishness suddenly filled my head.  My face, flush with embarrassment for not being considerate to the pair 15 minutes before.  And finally, concern/worry for the quickly falling sun.  The tug of a larger white bass snapped me out of my stupor.   Lucy helped me land the fish as I hurried into shore.

Me:  Excuse me... Please come fish in this spot.  This fish are stacked up out there.

Fishing Dad:  Are you sure?  You're having really good luck over there.

Me:  I've caught enough fish.  Hurry over before you run out of daylight.

Fishing Dad:  Well we really do appreciate it!

They moved over, set up shop, and threw out a few lines.  "We've been here three days, and haven't caught a fish yet," he told me.  Now I really felt like a tool.  My anxiety increased.  "I hope they catch some fish," I thought.  Not long after the first line went out, the bobber disappeared under the surface.  Fishing dad set the hook into a nice smallie before Jr was in for a fight.  The child's excitement was enough to make anyone smile.  Not long after the smallie was released, a white bass had grabbed the bait on the other rod.  This continued for the next 20 minutes and they were ecstatic!

 I believe that more people enjoying our natural resources will mean more working to conserve and preserve them in the future.  Have you shared a hot spot with strangers lately?  Would you if the opportunity presented itself?  Here is one fisherman who hopes you will.

He/She's got the Look!

New fashion statement?

What are your feelings on looks?  When I was growing up, I admired fly fishing enthusiasts.  Not only because it seemed like they had it all figured out, but because they looked the part.  They were the epitome of fishing to a non-enthusiast.  I thought that in order to be a fly fisherman, I had to look like a fly fisherman.  

This thought consumed me for some time.  I concerned myself with having the proper gear so at least I looked like I belonged, because I certainly didn't feel like I belonged early on.  This recently came to my mind when my buddy and I were standing near my truck after catching some spring carp.  We looked the part.  Waders, packs, nice gear, etc.  A car pulled up and asked if we were catching anything.  My friend and I, fully aware that they were not referring to carp, chuckled as we responded.  "A few," we said.  "Well, you sure look like professional fishermen," he replied as he put the vehicle into gear.  

Did that gentleman leave that day thinking we were professional fisherman?  Was he sold on our accomplishments and prowess as anglers simply because of how we were dressed?  While those questions might seem silly, consider it for a moment.  Who is going to be the most influential person in the meeting?  The one with the armani suit, or the person in business casual?  At first glance, are you going to ask for help on a construction project from an individual with a nice tool belt around their waist, or a guy/gal wearing an orange vest?  Perception is everything in this world.  People are prone to jumping to conclusions before all (or any) facts can be gathered.  

You can't argue with the results...

While this phenomenon may be good for business in the marketing world, it is NOT good for fly fishing.  I've stopped caring about my appearance long ago.  I don't care anymore if you think I look silly, because I'll be catching fish.  I might even be catching more fish than the person with all the new gear and fancy gadgets.  The fact of the matter is that I only need a fly rod and a box of flies to be successful on the water.  Everything else is a luxury or optional convenience.  Please, whether you are just getting into the sport, or a veteran of the game, DO NOT FALL INTO THE RHETORIC!  Trust your instincts and not what some poster boy for the sport tells you to use.  Dress comfortably (for your style and your wallet) without feeling the need to "fit in".  Like saying goes, "fish like nobody's watching".  You'll have more fun and you'll catch more fish.  Stay positive and don't worry about what others think of you.  They don't know jack!

Anyone looks good with a fish on!

Pride of the Prairie

Strutting his stuff...

While this is primarily a fishing blog, I like to talk a lot about conservation and things we can do to educate the public about our wildlife resources.  Recently, my girls and I reserved a blind on the Ft. Pierre National Grasslands.  When telling people about it, they seemed to have no idea this opportunity existed.  Whether their perceived interest was genuine or not, I feel it is necessary to provide some information about an opportunity to view the Pride of the South Dakota Prairie on its home booming grounds.  

The Ft. Pierre National Grasslands can be an eerie and unusual place, especially before sunrise.  Typically the excitement begins before exiting the vehicle.  The intensity of the sounds will reverberate from the vast expanses all around. Today was different.  

It was 4:45 a.m. (yeah, I know, that's early but stick with me here...)  The girls and I walked into the darkness with the sounds of the prairie coming to life.  "I'm scared daddy!" said Mya after we took our first few steps.  It is very daunting at first, especially for a little one, but we marched on. 

We entered the plywood blind relatively unnoticed.  If the birds had realized that we were in the area, they obviously didn’t care.  The wind rushed through the open windows as I quickly covered the girls in blankets.  With last year being Lillian's first experience, I was prepared to keep both little ones as comfortable as possible before the sun peaked over the grassland prairie on this 2015 outing.  We waited.  The anticipation that mounted for me was intense.  "Will the birds be here today?" I wondered to myself.  I was anxious for it to begin, despite the inability to see through the darkness.  We continued to wait while Mya fell asleep.  

Not long after first light (about 45 min after entering the blind), a familiar sound penetrated its walls.  "OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO... WOOP!  WOOP!"  Lillian perked up, "They're heaaaaarr!" she exclaimed in a whisper.  I was pumped.  

When the sun began to rise over the stretch of prairie to the east, the birds slowly came into focus.  The eight males were displaying their colors, and strutting their stuff while the one female wandered relatively uninterested.   An occasional confrontation between two males would result in acrobatics and scrapping to establish dominance.  A display that is too amazing not to experience in person.

face off - Courtesy South Dakota Tourism

Each year seems to bring new surprises as well.  In 2014, sharptails and chickens shared the Lek when a raptor swooped in and spoiled the party.   This year, another first for the girls and I.  One particular bird stole the show as he repeatedly jumped to the top of the blind to tapdance and strut.  "He's dancing on our heads!" Mya exclaimed after multiple routines.

I know I’ve done little to describe the beauty of this annual ritual, but no words I could write would do it justice.   This extraordinary bird is part of a delicate ecosystem in the prairie of South Dakota.  Each spring brings new opportunities to experience and view wildlife in all its splender.  I will continue to make this a ritual of mine for years and years to come.  And the girls are in as well.  

The Ft. Pierre National Grasslands encompases 116,000 acres and is located 15 miles south of Ft. Pierre, S.D.  The blinds are available from April through mid-May and  may be reserved through the forest service by calling the Ft. Pierre national Grassland, USDA Forest Service at 605-224-5517.

Hooked on wildlife

Super Secret...and Full of Bass

Extra large please...

I fished until the sun began to set on the horizon.  And then I fished some more.  I lost track of how many times I told Lucy, "last fish and we're going home girl."  So did she.  An impromptu trip to a long-neglected favorite fishing hole had turned into an evening of crashing, thrashing excitement, and quite the workout for my right arm.

A dreary and rainy Thursday had me second-guessing my perceived need for adventure.  After a quick dinner I found myself contemplating my fishing options and whether going out after that rain would even be worth it.  Lucy stared in disbelief.  She could actually tell that I was considering an alternative use of a rare free evening.  Eventually, her stare, and my conscious, got the best of me.  We ran out the door.

I entered the pasture around 7:00 p.m.  The rain-soaked tire tracks offered a makeshift slip-n-slide over the ruts and prairie dog holes.  With my white truck sufficiently covered in prairie mud, I pulled up to the gate.  The quiet calm of the grasslands was interrupted only briefly by the barking of nearby prairie dogs.  Their skittish behavior suggested target practice occurred earlier that day.  Lucky for them that was not my intention.  We entered the field.

Lucy and I marched through the grass like a prairie bird hunting pair.  Lucy's nose to the ground, my stride filled with excitement.  The cool rainwater jumped from the grass and beaded off of my White Sierra pants as I bounded toward our destination.  The prairie dramatically morphed into a bowl ahead of me.  The mirror-like pool shined in the sun below.  Now... would there be fish?

I stripped out 20 ft of fly line before tying on my favorite spring bass pattern.  The mud surrounding the dam responded to my boot like quicksand to a weary wanderer.  I was in up to my ankle.  The joys of stockdam fishing after a spring rain.  I cast my cactus chenille crawler toward the middle of the dam.  If I could have one gripe about fishing stock ponds on the grasslands, it is the fact that anticipation is short lived.  After two strips the fly line goes tight.  A green head explodes from the water like lightning from a thunderhead.  Again, the fish leaps through the air without effort and fights for deeper water.  One cast and one fish to hand.  I admire the largemouth before sending her back to the "super secret" spot.  Maybe next time I'll take a few home for the frying pan.

As I grow as a fisherman, I've come to appreciate the settings in which I experience life.  Shortly after that first fish, a pack of coyotes howled over the ridge.  Roosters began to cackle  as they settled in to evening roosting spots.  Like fighter pilots, Pintails and teals conducted flyovers of my fishing hole.  All while the iconic sounds of the meadowlark echoed through the open air.  This setting made me wonder why it had been so long since I've taken the time to enjoy this special place.  Priorities had changed, not only in my family life, but in my fishing life as well.

After a few hours of catching, it was time to go.  My boots now matched my pickup, and my muddy dog.  Trudging back as the sun set in the distance brought back great memories of past stock dam conquests and rainy day quagmires.  You can't get that feeling form a tv show, or magazine article.  Only by being in the moment.  It is a feeling I hope to experience again very soon.  Maybe tomorrow...

Admiring Super Secret

What I learned from teaching kids to tie...

Great kids make the event much easier to host!

Last spring the Tuesday Tyers held our inaugural Come Tie with Us, kids tying clinic here in Pierre.  We had a goal of 10 kids, 8 participated.  Not bad for a first year.  Each child had a mentor tyer to help them through the process.  Many parents stayed to participate as well.  At the end of the two hour tying session each child had three flies they tied all on their own, a new fly rod, and a look in their eye that screamed out, "I'm ready to catch some fish!"

Overall it was a very rewarding event, not just because we had some great kids there, but because we all gained so much from the experience.

For me, it was a change of mentality that I never thought would develop.  One of a selfish fisherman constantly seeking his new adventure, to a guy who wants to see our resources around for a long time.  I have caught a lot of fish on a fly rod.  Way more than I can begin to brag about.  Full disclosure, the number of fish that I've caught pale in comparison (both in quantity and size) to thousands of other fly throwers around this world.  And that's ok.  I'm very content with my status as a fly caster.  While I will continue to seek improvement, I've come to realize just how important youth are (and will be) to this pastime.  Teaching the next generation will not only be my way of brightening the future of this sport, but will make it much easier for these young children to do the same someday.  I don't want it to be as difficult for them to get started as it was for me.

That's why we're doing it again this year.  Modern Woodman of America is helping us purchase fly tying kits for each participant.  Dakota Angler and Outfitter will likely throw in some additional prizes.  Mark your calendars now for June 13th from 9 - 1.  If you'd like to volunteer your time and skills, please let me know.  If you'd like to join us for casting practice, that is fine too!  The more the merrier.  If the weather is nice, we'll even go try for some carp after casting practice.  It's going to be a great day in Pierre.  Contact me for more details.

Buddy Seiner (AKA Fishing Buddy)

605-222-9706

bseiner@gmail.com

Doing Our Part

sdleastwanted.com

I am really afraid of invasive species.  While they are all bad, there are none worse than the Asian Carp, and I say that only because I have seen them in action.  The James River has long been (and can still be at times) a trophy fishery.  The last trip I made to the Jim was last year, and the Asian carp were there in numbers.  This scares the shit out of me!  

The scariest thing is that an effort to prevent the spread of invasive species is not for a small contingent of passionate people.  EVERYONE must buy into the idea that they can transport invasive species to their favorite waters.  I don't know what would happen if Asian Carp eventually made it into SD's great lakes, and I don't want to know.  Please, do your part to prevent the spread.  Visit SD GFP's new website to learn about current rules and regs and the species they have been put in place to shut out.   We must hold each other accountable, and be diligent in our efforts.  Together, we can stop the spread of these invasive species.   

http://sdleastwanted.com

Carp Fever

Are you serious right now?

Damn Carp!  Just when I think I've got them figured out, they go and mess with my emotions and my head.  For years, I've taken time to chase carp during the spring.  Their early season displays lead one to believe that their aggressiveness and assertiveness would be imposed upon a well presented fly.  This is the behavior that leads to...CARP FEVER.  Each year I get it earlier, and each year leaves me wishing I had focused my early season fishing efforts elsewhere.

This year I had the antidote.  The cure that would free me from this figurative mental prison that holds me from May until late October.   I had come to a consensus with myself that, yes, my mind and emotions would be strictly focused on big rainbows, pike, white bass, smallies, and walleye in 2015.  There are, however, other causes of carp fever...unfortunately for me, it's contagious!



My friends have had carp fever for a few weeks now.  Scouting trips, fishing attempts, and even a few landed fish photos have been sent my way.  All acting as consistent reminders that carp season is near.  Just like the spring air, I felt my temperature rising.  Don't let the fever take hold!  Like a child fighting the urge to sleep, I fought this fever.  A 70 degree Sunday afternoon was when the fever finally took hold.  At 5:30, I took my fishing partner in search of active fish.  We arrived at a favorite spot nearby, one with very active carp all season.  Nothing big, but I knew there would be fish there.  Sure enough, a few had already gone into their spring ritual.  Tail dancing through the shallows like dolphins at play.

It's strange pulling a set of waders on before pursuing carp.  Wet wading in the warm sun has become one of my favorite reasons to chase them.  This cold water gear almost doesn't allow for the carp fishing mentality.  But it's not enough to fight the fever.

Tiny baitfish scattered from under the bridge.  A perfect place to begin in terms of presentation.  I begin casting my micro-clauser deep.  A few casts in, I've got the perfect rhythm of a slow steady retrieve that has become synonymous with much of my early season fishing, especially for carp.  Sloooowwww strip...pause.  Sloooowwww strip...pause.  Sloooowwww str...LINE STOPS.  I strip set into a nice fish.  Two head shakes and it's gone.   This location offers great spring fishing for many species.  Could have been a channel cat, could have been a whitey, could have been a walleye, hopeful it was a carp.  I didn't have it on long enough to feel comfortable venturing a guess.  I start the process again.  Three casts later, the line stops again.  I strip set into another nice fish.  This time, it's not going anywhere.  It crashes to the surface revealing a brilliant copper body and dark olive back.  It then heads for deeper water.  "Did I snag it," I wondered as I motioned him back toward shore.  The ease at which I controlled the fish suggested otherwise.  It took the bait.   Top lip...

There are days when carp fishing can befuddle even the most adept fishing enthusiast.  One day you'll catch 20, the next, you MIGHT land one.  I had only been fishing for about 15 minutes, and I already had two on the line.  What a great afternoon.

Over the next hour I would land another two fish and lose two more.  Not a bad outing for a quick carp adventure.  I checked my temperature when I arrived back home.  The digital thermometer read, "Carp Fever".  I didn't know it had that setting.  Looks like I'll be calling in sick to work tomorrow.  Damn carp!  Just when I think I've got them figured out...

White Bass Bonanza

I love talking to other anglers about their fishing experiences, fly fishing or otherwise.  Lately, I've happened across of number of folks who had a disappointing year in 2014 fishing for white bass.  You see, in Pierre, SD, we have a very special resource in our white bass population.  During the spring spawn and throughout the summer, they can be found in large numbers throughout the Missouri River system.  These fish are usually fat and sassy and very willing to take a variety of patterns.  And when you do it right, they rival walleye as table fare.

I can hardly recall an occasions where the white bass fishing has been less than stellar.  2014 was no exception.  I have expressed my surprise when the conversation briefly goes to white bass and thoughts or fears about low numbers.  While the numbers are not all time highs, they were still pretty great last year.  The fish did seem to be more particular in the patterns they favored, but were still very willing to take when presented with the right fly.  I remember one day in particular when I stood next to another angler at my favorite white bass spot hooking fish after fish.  His pattern offered the same color scheme as mine, however, was different in size and weight.  He did not hook a fish.  I offered one of the "working" flies, but he was content.  Awkward turtle moment...

Here is a short video featuring a few of the fish caught in 2014.  Early season fish were some toads!  Here's hoping for a 2015 run that rivals it.  Enjoy.



Whitey Ford Fourteen from Buddy Seiner on Vimeo.

Tying to Catch a Fish

The annual Bighorn River adventure holds a special place in the hearts of Tuesday Tyers members who have participated.  When I first joined the group, spectacular tales of fish catching, river tips and tricks, and planning talk for future trips filled our tying nights.  When I was invited to tag along, I was nervous.  "What if I don't catch any fish?" I thought.  It wasn't until I joined this group on their adventure that I realized that catching fish (while always a goal) was not the ultimate objective.  This trip means more than just fish.  It is an escape... from others and ourselves.  It is a chance to wade waste deep in water with thousands of fish who are happy to set up in the feeding lane behind your legs.  A chance to drift effortlessly down a river full of beauty and majesty.  A chance to meet friendly folks both enjoying the resource and using it to make a living.  All of this while trying to get close to some of the most beautiful fish one can imagine.

I'm bummed to not be going on this year's adventure, but excited for those who are planning to attend.  To help them get ready for the trip, and to provide a few laughs in the process, here is a video of last year's adventure.  Mostly just fish being released, but some good memories mixed in.  Enjoy!


 
Bighorn 2014 from Buddy Seiner on Vimeo.

Fishing with Bitterness

Burt with a hefty and battle tested Oahe Bow

My name is Buddy Seiner, and I'm an elitist.

The first step in the recovery process from being an elitist (AKA - Head up your ass syndrome) is by admitting there is a problem.  I found out today, that I have one.

It was 65 degrees in Pierre today.  After enjoying most of the day, and doing a few projects, I decided to head to the marina to chase rainbows (if the pike would let me).  Fellow fly enthusiast and Golden Bone pro staff member, Jason Burt, agreed to join.  While many trips were taken throughout the winter months, only northern and musky have come to hand for me in 2015.  We were optimistic that today would be a good day for rainbows.

The day was made when I stepped into the water.  Bald eagles were calling from their cottonwood perches, Canada geese flew in perfect fighter jet formations overhead, while fat black midges clumsily glided through my personal space over, and over again.  I could have very well stood in the water without a rod and still enjoyed that moment in time.  It was beautiful.  And it was about to get better...

"FISH ON!!"

Burt's first Bow in Oahe Marina

I heard Burt yell from across the marina.  My first thought, "Please don't be a northern, please don't be a northern".  *SPLASH* A green back erupted from the water, thrashing as a big rainbow does when hooked in the top lip.  I started into long, wader-laden strides, toward the fight.  This was a special moment for Burt...His first Oahe marina rainbow.  A few photos were followed by accolades and excitement.  Burt experienced all the symptoms that came along with my first, and most recent, marina rainbow.  Excessive excitement, shaking, huge, shit-eating grin, more shaking, and anticipation!  It was fun to be a part of it.  Not long after, Burt hooked into another football shaped fish, and we started the process all over again.  **FIST BUMP**

Now, it wasn't long after that second fish that my problem reared it's ugly head.  Somewhere in between fish 1 and fish 2 some anglers staked a claim on the opposite shore where the ice had cleared.  "That's a great spot," I told Burt.  I've fished alongside bait guys many times in that marina, and it usually ends in them asking me what I'm using to catch fish.  I know anglers experience great success when using live bait for these big rainbows.  We all know that Rainbow doesn't want to be fed, Rainbow wants to hunt.  Still, I had never personally witnessed live bait anglers land a toad rainbow (technical term) in the marina...  Until today.

After Burt released his second fish, I waddled over to my spot to proceed with what I call fly-casting. Soon, I noticed one of the guys hauling in a big, fat rainbow.  My heart sank.  "No!" I thought as they tossed it on the ice heave.  Then the other guy landed one.  Bitterness entered my heart.

How, on a day like today, could I be bitter about anything?  I commented to Burt, "For some reason, that really bums me out."

Burt reminded me that if it were a walleye or a catfish, we wouldn't give it a second thought.  He's right.  And I completely understood.  So why did it not remove the bitterness?  Why was I still upset that those anglers on the opposite shoreline had bucketed two beautiful rainbows?  Am I becoming an elitist of catch and release?  Was I becoming a, *GULP*, fly fishing SNOB??

Step two in the recovery process is proper reflection.  After having some time to reflect, I feel I've determined the root of my elitist evening mentality:

1 -  There are very few places in South Dakota where this experience can be had.  These big fish don't come along every day.  Yes, we are catching rainbows, a very prominent resource in our state, but they are catching fish that have already beat the odds.  These fish that have come from an unnatural hatchery setting, been thrown to the wolves of the wild, and survived.  And then they stumble across a hapless minnow twitching on the end of a crappie rig.  Well...  Rainbows are placed in the South Dakota great lakes because they would not be there otherwise.  They are placed here for the enjoyment of anglers (both in fight and table-fare).  Their size has nothing to do with the reason they are there.

2 -  It shouldn't be that easy.  For some reason, the idea of these guys tossing out some bait and hauling in what holds on made the work that I put in to catching fish seem less meaningful.  This is complete bull-shit as you can already tell, but I'll write more about why to make myself feel better.  I have caught more fish via fly than I could have imagined.  Essentially, I'm creating a very realistic food source imitation and presenting it in a very appetizing way.  Who is cheating here?  I was intrigued by fly-fishing because of the challenge it offers.  Yes, there are still challenges that exist, but I can more easily overcome them with the fly.  I almost always have the advantage.

3 -  This resource might not be around forever.  We need to preserve it so future residents (mainly myself in the future) can catch bigger fish.  This is so selfish!  Again, Jason was my voice of reason here.  This resource was put here for all anglers to enjoy.  If some want to enjoy it on the dinner table, why shouldn't they do that?  It's like my brain abandoned every bit of skilled dialog training and fishing zen I've received and was switched to negative scenario auto pilot.  What if they discontinue the stocking program and they completely wipe out the rainbow fishery?  What if they chop up that fish and leave it in the freezer for 3 years?  Bladdy, bladdy, blah.

January Marina Musky

4 -  I wasn't catching anything.  For the first time this year, I had zero takes.  Not even my good pals the northerns were showing my fly any love.  I am supposed to be out-fishing the bait anglers, right?  This is a competition, right?  This is proving my worth as an angler, right?  Wow...so wrong.  I've said many times that I could die any day completely content with the number of fish (and their size) that I've  caught over the years.  I should have been pumped, not only for Jason, but that two other anglers got a chance to experience the rush of a rainbow.  It's a great feeling.  

The last step in my recovery process is acceptance.  Yes, I had a weak moment.  It happens, and might happen again.  I know I'm not an elitist.  My progression as an angler is my own, and not that of any other.  I love fishing, and will always share a common bond with anglers of all specializations.  I'll be out on the water again tomorrow.  If live bait should win the day, maybe I'll wander over to their side of the marina...to ask them what they're using.  

Go Barbless or Go Home

When I started fly fishing, I hadn't considered fishing barbless hooks.  In fact, I wouldn't have considered it out of fear of losing fish.  I thought hooks had barbs for a reason, and that reason was to keep fish on the hook.  I worried that removing the barb would cause me to loose that "fish of a lifetime".  It wasn't until a few years ago that I began to realize the great value in utilizing barbless hooks.  That "turning point" in my mentality was mostly due to my continued education on handling fish.  It is well documented that fish mortality is still an issue, even as catch and release fisherman handle their catch with great care.  Death, for trout especially, can come fairly easy when stressed or injured.  It depends greatly on a number of factors:

• Fight time
• Injuries sustained to fish during fight/landing process
• Handling of fish while on land (excessive touching, flopping on shore/against rocks, etc)
• Time spent out of water (remember, fish have gills, not lungs and lack the ability to store oxygen.  10 seconds is all it takes for significant damage to occur)
• Water/atmosphere temperature/Oxygen content of water (will both be factors during the fight and recovery process)
• Other situation dependent factors

As you can see, fish have a lot going against them.  Not only did crimping the barb on all my hooks make fishing more convenient, but it proved to be a timesaver on the water and gave me a bit more piece of mind knowing I've done all I can to release the catch as unharmed as possible.  And it will make you a better fisherman, more adept at fighting and landing fish without the safety net of a barb.

Because I tie all of my own flies, it's easy to prepare each hook properly.  I crimp the barb on each hook with a set of pliers before I begin tying.  If you purchase flies, it's a bit harder to stay on top of it.  Take note before tying one on.  If catch and release is your thing, go barbless for a more fruitful fishing experience.