The Fisher

By Duane Fronek

  Been awhile since I posted a blog. So to my readers I apologize for the lapse, there may be more as I venture in to the spring beaver. Been kinda busy with stuff. Been rollin’ a lot of things around in this head of mine. Thinking about past hunts, season’s, mishaps(believe me I have plenty) etc. So let me begin.

 It was the second day of the 2009 WI deer season. And like every deer season I string some steel for coyotes where I hunt. The hunting season for coyotes closes during deer season, supposedly to protect the few Wolves we have(yeah right). But we can still trap during that time.

 Anyway I’m driving the two miles of logging road and skidder trails into my stand with my son. As I come around a corner of my first set, in the headlights there’s a big orange blob standing there. I commented I got something in the trap to my huntin‘ partner‘s. Which I did. As I closed in the orange blob turned out to be another deer hunter, posed  in a shooting stance with his rifle pointed toward my set.

  I stop the truck and say hold up. What you doing. He replies, I think there’s a mink or something here and he’s big and just nasty. Turns out I had a fisher, and that’s what I told him. I explained to him that I was trapping some coyotes and that it was a good thing he didn’t shoot the fisher, for a number of reasons. The biggest is about $4000 in fines and loss of license for 3 years. He was from down south around Milwaukee and wasn’t up on the regs except deer and never saw a fisher in his life. He thought it was pretty cool. Now a lot of guys would of went off on this guy for his ignorance the deed he was about to do. But I tend to treat other sportsmen and women with a benefit of doubt and in this case was the right thing to do. I was able to educate a fellow hunter and some things he didn’t know.

  Now onto the fisher. Since you need to draw a tag to keep one and I wasn’t lucky this go round, I had to release it. This is where it gets interesting. It’s still kinda dark and I’m working in head lights in the shadows and my son is hanging out the window watching intently and mumbling things like don’t get bit, is it biting. I carry a catchpole in the back of the truck for releasing critters I don’t want. So I get it out and try lassoing the fisher. Well if you ever had a fisher in a trap, they are about as squirrely as a barn cat that’s tail hit the electric fence. After a couple attempts trying to get the noose on the little rascal, he manages to get the cable fouled up and is now holding it firmly in his jaws. Since his teeth are occupied, I did the next best thing, I put the boot down on him and got my hand wrapped around the back of his muscular neck. They are a stout tough animal and can be hard to hold. But after a few decades of handling wild life I pretty much had it down pat, pretty much. After getting the little psychopath subdued, I release the trap off his back foot. Now comes the tricky part, letting him go. This can be a delicate matter, the fisher had finally dropped the catch pole and I now have a firm grip around the back of his neck and the other firmly gripped around the base of the tail. First I asked the suburban hunter if he wanted to feel the fur, he just stood there staring with his mouth agape  and nodded his head side to side and finally uttered; that things too mean too pet.

  So now I have to put the release plan into action, with my grip on the fisher I had, I just normally just do the ol’ heave ho toss and the critter is slightly airborne and in perpetual motion away from me. Works every time. Well it use to, seems this fisher was plotting and planning while I was distracted with his release. As I was in the final motion of the forward movement and the release of my grip, this little Tasmanian nutcase  decides to roll in my hand that was now releasing it’s grip around his neck, and he firmly planted his nice razor sharp canines into my wrist, and at that moment a few explicative’s  rolled off my tongue as my son made a few shrieks out the window when he realized daddy got bit. Now you d think as this little fur ball of fury would realize I was no longer holding on to him he’d just release his grip and fall to the ground and run off. BUT NO!!!! He has to shake his head while his teeth are sunk into the tendons in my wrist like a musky trying to shake a bucktail. I could see the gleam of victory in his beady little eyes as they shown in the headlights. With a sweeping motion like a pro bowler on steroids I fling the little creature from hades and  he comes loose while one of his canines rakes across one of my tendons like a guitar string, sending what felt like 20,000 volts of pain up my arm as he breaks free and sails off into the darkness.

 Now my dilemma, and the inevitable that I know is coming. I get to get more rabies shots. Yes, I said more, I was lucky enough to have to get the series of shots once before and knew, I was about to get them again. But right now it’s deer season and the dawn is cracking. I heard comments in the truck that I should get to the hospital and stitches, etc. For now I didn’t want to hear none of that, I wanted to hunt. I let the wound bleed into a bandana to help cleanse the wound, as I finished driving to our spot. Once there I downed 4 ibuprophen and wrapped the wound in the bandana. I figured I could make it till noon and then head the 18 miles to town to get the rabies treatment. Well I made it till 10 am, I wasn’t seeing any deer, probably because the screaming in my head was getting to loud and deer are sensitive to such things. Or they were just sitting around a stump somewhere listening to some fisher  telling his story how he whupped a hunter this morning, laughing their tails off.

  So we pack it in and head to town. As we get to the emergency room, I check in and go thru the regular ropes, some know me by now and don’t get too surprised with some of the afflictions  I’ve managed to acquire over the years. I explain the details and that leads to setting up the series of the shots. I’m a big guy, but when it comes to needles, I tend to get weak. With rabies shot, I not only get weak, I wonder what Nazi came up with this treatment, he couldn’t make a pill or 1 shot instead of 9? After the wound is clean and shot dispensed in parts of my carcass, the Dr. tells me that I’m not really doing too bad for rabies shots, 2 times in 30 some years of handling wild critters isn’t too bad an average. I think he was trying to make me feel better or add a little humor to the situation, but I guess I missed it, cause I was a little distracted with all the new painful spots inflicted upon me.

  Ahhh, fond memories, that will not be easily forgotten, unfortunately. Below are the pics of the little critter and his brand mark he left and a vid of my son kinda making fun of me. Hope you enjoy!! Till next time stay safe,lol

 You can see the evil.

 The damage

My Huntin' bud

And an interview with an on scene eye witness

Were Wolves ever really Endangered?

By Duane Fronek


What is the definition of Endangered? According to The World Conservation Union, it’s “Generally, an endangered species is an organism in danger of disappearing from the face of the earth if its situation is not improved.” http://library.thinkquest.org/25014/what/definition.html Did you get that. The face of the earth. Yet this is posted on the Wolf. “Endangered in USA except Minnesota; Threatened in Minnesota (USA) http://library.thinkquest.org/25014/what/definition.html

  Do you see what I’m getting at here. Wolves never were in any danger of becoming extinct or even threatened for that matter. The wolves range stretches across N. America, Europe and into Asia, and still thrive today. What happened was there home range changed due to civilization In the lower 48, they still thrived in Canada and other areas of the globe. But groups like the Humane Society of the United States decided to use the wolf as a poster child for their agenda which basically is an end to sport hunting. It’s been ingrained in every school kids minds growing up about the plight of the Wolf, especially back in the 1970’s when these animal rights groups started to really take off. Targeting children’s minds, knowing that it would be of a benefit to the HSUS and other groups in years to come.

  Those years are now, with all the controversy surrounding the wolf and why it’s been a difficult battle for us. Those children are grown up now, the wolf issue is here and the mindset is the wolf was and still is in peril in the minds of many due to putting the wolf up as a poster child for animals rights, you may as well be trying to regulate hunting someone’s puppy the way some have been misled. While the wolf was scarce in the lower 48, they thrived in Canada and not because wolves wouldn’t cross international bounderies, because animals don’t recognize human geographical boundaries. No, they thrived because the habitat was better in the north and the US was at the fringe of this home range. We don’t have alligators in WI, but that doesn’t mean their endangered, we just don’t have all the conditions here for them to flourish, but they do down in Louisiana. So why isn’t the HSUS putting these on posters? Because their not as cute  and fluffy.

  The wolf battle has been a tough one, but if we keep up the fight, point out the flaws in the animal rights statements and reasoning, we can get it done. So, were wolves ever endangered? That would be a resounding NO. The lower 48 is the fringe of their home range plain and simple due to civilization and need to be managed.

Foremost Coyote Hunting: Howling Up Coyotes

Foremost Coyote Hunting: Howling Up Coyotes: "by Duane Fronek I am often asked, do you howl for coyotes and does it work? The short answer is yes and yes. But I’m going to try and break..."

Double Down Coyotes

By Duane Fronek

  I have a couple hunting buddies that I like to hunt with and when time permits I’ll team up with one of them to go after coyotes. Today one fellow dogman Volker gave me a call, he had time to get out and do a few stands before dark. Volker has the addiction as bad as me, he will go through anything to call in and kill a coyote, it’s a passion that he shares with many of the other coyote hunters out there. So I head over to his place and load up the gear, rifles, hot seats and shooting sticks, then we’re off.

  We decide to hit the river nearby and decide on a spot we were busted  on a few weeks back by the skeptic nose of a coyote, well twice actually, This spot has a funny bend in it that messes with the wind. Today the wind was out of the southwest, and figured that might be the ticket for that spot. On our way we noticed that the deer were out feeding and not just a couple, a lot. We had deer cutting across in front of us on the way there and we even seen rabbits out eating the dry grass and probably the salt that was along the roads. It was feeding time and if those critters were out, no doubt the coyotes were too.

  We arrive at our point of entry, a small pull over spot on state land, gated of course. After getting saddled up, we head down the well packed deer path to the river, it was about a quarter mile walk in, no other human tracks around, but deer tracks up the whazoo. We even seen 6 deer walking in as well.

  Upon arriving at the river we find the wind in our favor  on this go round. We pick our position right up tight to the river where a clump of tag alders made it’s home. Volker takes his seat to the right of the tags, with his 10ga stuffed with 3 ½ mags ready to unleash it’s load of #4 buckshot, he’s nestled in and ready to take a sneaker  wanting to come in through the back door. As Volkers ready to go, I am as well, taking my position to the left of the tags and perched on the shelf ice on the rivers edge, hoping it doesn’t give way.

  I’m facing down stream, wind in my face, I can see a good 500yds of open highway, ready to tumble any speedsters coming in. Across the river about 50yds is a thick cedar swamp that stretches for atleast a half mile both ways, perfect habitat for deer and snow shoe hares and the killers that stalk them, the coyote.

  Being it’s late February, I pull out my Red Desert open reed. Putting the call to my deceitful lips, I unleash a few barks and howls, notifying any resident King and Queen there was an intruder in their kingdom. Another 30 seconds and I broadcast my blatant  trespass into the wind with another series of barks, yips, and howls. Then give a moment of silence for the dirty deed I'm about do. The deed arrived about the 2 minute mark when my lying lips screamed the death throws of a hare being murdered by the intruder.

  This was too much for the Queen and her King, through the cedars across the river two figures were fast approaching, their legs mingling with the under brush as they move frantically through the swamp, giving only glimpses of their vulnerable figures. The Queen arrived first, looking for a fight, her hackles raised on her back  as she closes in on the river bank 50yds away, suddenly she comes to a halt to assess the situation, looking for the squatter. Her King stood back 20 feet upon the slight rise behind her majesty, shrouded by the bows of the cedars that covered the Kingdom. Little did she know the intruder had the Nikon locked on her chest at which a second later sent the signal to the .243 to send a screaming 100 grainer into the boiler room through the front door. As she hit the snow her sidekick ran in and nipped at her back and darted back into the shadows of the cedars. He paced back and forth as his legs gave away his position. As I watched, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my second line of offense, my carlton mini open reed ,and squealed like a wounded dog giving up the ghost. As the sounds of my deceit reached   his panicking ears and confused state of mind, he made a beeline to the right of his fallen comrade, not knowing he had passed her due to the slight rise hiding her from view. As he headed for a better vantage point to find his fallen partner, he hesitated in an opening just before he could of reached the safety of an uprooted cedar. The assailant wasted no time in taking advantage of that fatal mistake. The roar of the .243 raped the landscape, notifying the occupants the ruling duo would harass them no more.

The Double Feb. 27th 2011

Calling the Coyotes Camp

By Duane Fronek

The day started as any other day set aside for calling. My partner Yotefever came to go calling and after the usual double checking that we had all our gear with us and in the truck, we set off. We were heading up into the National Forest about 3 miles from my place. In the dead of winter it’s a serene place to spend a day calling. As we reach the National our thoughts and talks are starting to develop a game plan on where to setup and whether they were compatible wind the light wind out of the north. A couple miles in on the ice and snow covered road, we spot a flock of ravens up ahead, assembled in there usual form fighting amongst themselves when they find a winter meal. As we’re approaching, the black cloud ascends and scatters about, taking their roosts to watch the intruders close in. What we discover is a half eaten carcass of a deer, road kill probably. We pull over to inspect the scene a little closer as to see who else may be visiting this resting place. Among all the raven tracks scattered about as if someone dumped a puzzle out, we were able to decipher coyote tracks intermingled with the ravens, and a single trail coming in from the north which contained a  thick tamarack swamp.

  Being the tracks of the coyote seemed to be quite fresh and pert near smoking, we decide to implement a quick game plan to coax out the guardian of this winter buffet. No doubt he is camped out back off the road enjoying a relaxing snooze that can only be induced with the intoxicating euphoria of a belly full of red meat.

  We jump in the 4x4 and head down the road about a ½ mile and pull to the side. We were about a 100 yds east of the edge of the tamarack swamp. With the wind coming out of the north we had a good chance at cracking this guys code. We head into the hardwoods looking for a good vantage point in which we could snipe an incoming visitor. As luck would have it and a little intuition as to how this country lays, we find ourselves a slight rise from the hardwoods that fingers out to a point that abruptly descends into a fairly open flat of maple saplings that thicken as they approach the tamaracks.

 With the wind sweeping through from right to left as we take our positions, I have yotefever  guard the downwind side with his 22-250 savage striker hand cannon. I figure the direction of an incoming suspect would opt to come in from that direction, giving yotefever the opportunity to add another notch on his pistol grip. For myself, I perched myself to yotefevers right out on the slight point, ready to snipe any incoming less educated dogs that ignored the wind.

  With our carcasses settled into the comforts of tree stumps, I lay my .243 across my lap while it waits to make it’s report. I pull out my open reed Carlton pee wee, a medium range call perfect for this type of assault. Within a few seconds of our concealment, I rape the air with the blood curdling pleading of a bunny that wants to live. The bunnies torment and piercing screams for help summoned a willing suspect within minutes of his first cries for help. Unbeknownst to me, the intended target came in down wind at lightning speed, right in to yotrefevers lap at 20yds in full tilt mode. Yotefever announced the arrival by unleashing the 22-250, sending a 40gr sleeping pill at the incoming blur of fur seen throw the cross hairs of his trusted Leupold. Problem was the incoming dog failed to take the pill and swapped ends to make his retreat.

  The crack of the 22-250 alerted the .243 to the situation unfolding to the left. I brought the .243 to full attention, and attempting to help the 100gr bullet find it’s mark through the ever thickening saplings, the monarch that rode her back did the best she could in guiding the pill to it’s intended target, but failed to part the way unobstructed. The intended “ending” to this hunt, left with his hide intact, but left behind a yellow trail for 50yds or so to let us know we gave him an education he will carry to his grave.

  After picking up our seats and what was left of our dignity, I decided to check out the trail that our lucky suspect left behind. As Yotefever was starting to regain his composure and settle his nerves, he said to me; warn me next time you decide to throw a coyote in my lap that fast. I told him I was just trying to surprise him.

  Well upon further inspection of the outgoing trail, I found where this fleeing dog actually lost control of all bladder functions, the yellow streak laid out on the snow better than 50 yds and I just had to laugh, yotefever wasn’t the only one rattled. Being curious, I decided to follow the incoming set of tracks just to see the incoming line of approach. To my surprise it was a fairly straight bee line for our fictional bunny in it’s death throws. But the real gem was I had found where our little friend came from, I found a nice little coyote bed nestled under a blown down tamarack, with another trail of which I followed and not surprisingly led to the deer carcass not 75yds away.

  Below is a short vid of the calling sequence that called this one in, it’s from the actual stand.

Full Moon Triple

By Duane Fronek

It was a fairly nice February day, temps in the 20’s. I had a buddy up for hunting coyotes. We made plans to go up into some back country that requires a 4 wheeler or snow mobile and snow shoes, a 6 mile trip from the main road. It was a river that snaked its way through some of the prettiest country around here. Going through tag alder marshes, tamarack swamps and popple slashes. The plan was to hit spots along this corridor for the day. It was a full moon cycle and we wanted to be out there when it rises.

  The moon was due to rise around 3:30 pm. In the past it seems moonrise was a very productive time and we wanted to capitalize on it.

  Our stands for the most part for the day only raised a few ravens and for some reason the chickadee’s , it seems their attracted to bunny screams, for they would flit around us and even had one land on my shoulder. We were fast approaching the magic of the moonrise and it was time to set up at our jewel of a spot we’ve been saving for this particular event.

  Thee spot was a fork in a river, with one leg coming from the west and the other from the north, conjoining together to flow south. To the north the river rambled through heavy tag alders, and  to the west it rolled in through tamaracks. My partner whom we’ll call “yotefever” as he calls himself for reason’s similar to buck fever. But make no mistake, he is a deadly assassin when you put that coyote out there beyond sniping range and with a center fire pistol to boot. On this particular day yotefever was packin’ a 6.5-.284 that bench pressed a 100gr ballistic tip out of a lever action single shot pistol that loaded through the breech, topped off with his leupy.  He was cocked, locked and ready to rock as I toting my trusty 700 that lived off the .243.

  We took our seats, with yotefever nestled up against a hummock facing north and me in the rear 20 yds back up against a stump facing west. With the sun hanging low to the south west and its night shift counterpart due to arrive shortly in the east we were ready to put that poor bunny to the test. I proceeded to scream through my red desert mouthpiece driving those talons deep into that poor bunnies back, it was a horrendous death, his screams so high they could cut through the ice that topped the river. Within moments a dark figure was spotted slinking across the  ice from the tags to the north about 600yds out, a half a second later another unsavory character followed suit, then another. A bonifide triple was forming a hit squad on the paw. As they made there way in at a semi trot, I whispered to yotefever, “dogs at 12 o’clock“, he gave me the thumbs up as I gave a short waaaah on the red desert to keep their interest. And interested they were. Closing the gap single file galloping down the white carpet heading  to yotefevers lap. When the lead hitman closed in on the 100yd mark he slowed his pace allowing his subordinates to take the lead. I could tell that dog was starting to get nervous, his posture was getting more hesitant. In all the excitement, it was just now becoming clear he was running into an ambush, he was facing right into the sun and the wind was blowing up his backside, he knew bad news was about to break, but the thought of that crimson colored meat had him hesitantly hooked. At that moment it dawned on me as well my mistake was about to magnify itself, as is the case when your too blind to see it in the first place. I had placed yotefever , not realizing it, right in the line of an incoming possibility, for he was between myself and the murderous trio.

  I was waiting for yotefever to give the bark of death as the deadly trio was pushing the 40 yd. mark. And just like many hunts before, the scene was about to go down . The bark of death rolled off of yotefevers tongue, in an instant the trio locked the brakes, with the two lead dogs facing each other posed to bolt as the rear dog stood sentinel another 40 or so yards back ready to witness the show. A semi- second later the roar of yotefevers pistol caused the two lead dogs to bolt, only to collide with each other causing their descent to the ice, As in slow motion I pull myself out of hiding in the crouched position moving in to yotefevers right so to get a shot at the  departing witness, as I come to yotefevers side I proceed to lock the cross hairs on the bolting dog who was now a couple hundred yards out , I send a 100 grainer in his direction but fails to slow him down. As I’m rackin’ the bolt for another round, thinking atleast 1 dog is dead on the ice and not knowing where the other went, two well furred critters jump from their iced slabs and getting traction peeled out, one heading straight away to catch up with the departed witness as the other heads to the hard right to the east. Now being surprised, rattled and mind going into frazzle mode, I send another round at the 2nd fleeing ball of fur. As I’m rackin the bolt for a 3rd round I glance down at yotefever trying to get another round in his, I swing around to the east bound dog who’s now truckin as if he’s floating across the ice at mach speed, I lead too much and blew snow up in front and just beyond his direction of travel. As I’m rackin the bolt for the 4rd round, the intended target hit’s the woods edge and stops for one glance back. I find him in the cross hairs of the Monarch and smile as I squeezed the trigger. The hammer drops striking air looking for the primer that wasn’t there, the coyote takes the cue and disappears leaving  behind a scene of despair.

  I look up into the eastern sky and there he is, the man on the moon peeking over the trees.

  After regaining our composure, we assessed the situation and checked out the spots where the shots were to connect. Yotefevers spot in the front row showed no blood, but long guard hair that graced the top of the first coyotes withers and no blood to be found, just a maze of scrambled tracks of 2 confused and temporarily scared witless coyotes. The hung up dogs postion, showed nothing but  snow and ice fluffed up from the .243 and which brings me to the last shot I realized I only loaded 3 rounds in the magazine After carefully investigating the scene and much head scratching, it was  determined that Yotefever hit us both that afternoon.

Sportsmen & Outdoor Groups vs. Wildlife

By Duane Fronek

I’ve been debating about writing this for awhile, it’s basically just my view on what the different organizations out there today whether it’s fishermen, deer hunters, duck hunters, trappers and even some groups like the Timber Wolf Alliance. So before I proceed I would like to make it perfectly clear, that this  is in no way, condemning or saying any one of them is bad, as a matter a fact I belong to a few of them. And I share this same viewpoint with them inside the different groups I belong to, as I’m sharing here, and the reason being is, because I believe in what I believe strongly, as do those who do not see it in this way. All the outdoor sporting groups all play their important and necessary  part as they should, and I commend all the groups for their dedication and hard work. The ones I use as an example in this article are ones that are close to home so it’s not like I’m picking on certain groups, their just the ones I’ve seen more of and worked with more or has affected myself more and more importantly the wildlife around me.

  These groups pour a lot of money into their designated passions because after all, that’s their passion and it’s understood. But what I’ve seen, although good, there tends to be a certain degree of tunnel vision within these groups, some more than others.  And I believe that this tunnel vision is sometimes detrimental or maybe just not the best course of action as a whole for the wildlife outside of their preferred wildlife cause. Like an over all blanket way of doing things because it benefits their species of choice. But when you apply that blanket of say logic or way of management it can and does affect the rest of the eco-system around it. For every action there is a reaction, a chain of events sometimes not seen or even realized till a much later time, the domino effect. The recent wolf issues is a prime example of that, in all the haste to re-introduce this species, major things like how they were to be managed down the road or the effect on other wildlife populations as a whole were in my humble opinion over looked or put on the back burner in the haste to move the agenda forward, basically putting the cart before the horse.

  I guess the biggest thing is not seeing the whole picture. Take for example, here in WI the musky clubs would like to see either catch and release only or a 50” min. size on musky state wide. Sure that would say be a feasible thing when talking large lakes but as whole on every lake, I don’t believe is the way to go because of the other fisheries out there like panfish, walleyes etc. Some lakes would not even beable to sustain that without dire consequences to it’s fishery, you can’t stock pile wildlife and fish included. And I’m glad we have spring hearings with our state DNR for people to voice their pro’s and con’s. so that there is a balance out there. I guess when you look at it, we need to micro manage in a sense to the specific needs of everything as a whole in that particular lake.

  Take for example Trout Unlimited of which I’m a member, but I’m also a member of the WI. Trappers Assoc. as well, you would think that would be a perfect combo and at times it can be. I belong to both because I believe in both, but I do see where there can be improvement in the tunnel vision aspect to widen there perception and knowledge to be more of a benefit not for their respective members but for wildlife as a whole, because it isn’t what we think is best but because we need to do what is best as a whole for the wildlife, not ourselves. Here in WI. The beaver numbers are getting low and have dropped a lot in the last ten years. Here again is an animal that was so numerous in the 80’s that a bounty was put on them and limits were lifted, and left that way after the bounties ended with no fore thought as to what should be done when the beaver get back down to manageable numbers. So now the state is scrambling to figure out a solution to protect the resource. On one hand you have trappers that trap them and want to continue trapping them in years to come and want a little more stringent regulations put in place to limit or eliminate summer trapping of beaver that are causing damage or a more defined definition of what constitutes damage to prevent unnecessary removal of beaver by groups like Trout Unlimited. Trout Unlimited in this state want a zero tolerance for beaver on trout streams, problem is, most streams in WI are trout streams or waters in one category or another.

  Now, the past 3 years I have been involved in a stream restoration project involving a once premier trout water and cold water resource that fed anther major river here. That stream was basically ruined by beaver, but it took beaver 50 years to do it. The beaver turned the 9 miles of stream into a series of ponds that were warmed up to temps like bath water and silt deposits of extreme depths. The beaver had changed that environment considerably. It now no longer provided much needed cold water to it’s larger counterpart down stream, the trout fishery was pretty much destroyed. But on the other hand it now provided homes for a much more diverse set of residents, muskrats, coon, ducks, geese, deer not to mention turtles, clams and a variety of other plants and wildlife, the only thing missing was the fish and cold water. But something else was on the rise a new danger lurking that was right their in front of your face but not seen.

  The beaver were eating themselves out of house and home, the tree line had receded a considerable distance and in order to sustain the beaver the dams would have to become bigger to reach it, flooding out timber and land once it reached the new food source. The other danger that accompanies this scenario is the high risk of disease which would virtually eliminate the beaver there  eventually, plus the nasty stuff that grows in stagnant water. So in reality although it looked like as rugged a country you would ever see and everything was fine, it was basically destroying itself or if looked at it a different way mother nature taking it’s course and changing it to something else. Man has a habit of wanting change now, mother nature takes her time. So, even though the beaver were abundant on that stream, the rest of the state is not like that. So Trout Unlimited comes in to restore the stream to it’s original state, the DNR is involved and trapping is involved and it’s on it’s way to being what it once was. In order to do that the beaver need to be completely removed and dams blown so decades of silt can be flushed from the system, then a management plan to keep beaver out so that it can come back. Which I feel is the way to go in this instance. How ever you now have drastically changed the eco system on that stream and mother nature will adjust itself, ducks and geese will nest on adjoining waters, some muskrats will survive, some move on, bobcats will hang around but surplus ones now will travel in search of a new home and the list goes on.

  Now lets skip on over to another creek 10 miles south that feeds the same large river the one we just cleaned up that feeds the same large river. There’s beaver on it a few dams, but still fairly good flows of water and cold, gravel bottom, lots of trout, etc. Trout Unlimited has a zero tolerance for beaver on trout streams and feels those beaver need to be removed too. BUT, do they really need to be removed. The trout are fine the waters cold, so does it make sense as for the fishery and wildlife around to eliminate the beaver. No not really. I look at it like this, you need that creek left alone and let nature take its course, because you need the diversity to support wildlife that were displaced 10 miles north. Only thing is if it is manged properly like selective trapping the beaver so they don’t totally destroy the stream, you’ll have a longer run not only on it being a healthier stream, but healthier all around for the wildlife around it. Basically farm it. Because if you go at the angle of no beaver on the streams you are creating a more sterile enviroment sustaining less wildlife. It takes years to make a trout stream unproductive from beaver, it really does and I mean 20, 30-40 years. Not a couple. I know of a stream with beaver dams on my dad fished in his teens that I fished as an adult with the same dams in place and the size and fishing was great, until that was cleaned out and beaver removed. So I know it takes a long time for a stream to be a wasteland.

  Now enter the trapper, he wants to see more beaver because part of his income comes from beaver, they would rather see the beaver dams and streams like the plugged up one left alone because it’s a benefit to what he does, just like what the TU guys want done because it benefits what they do. But what really matters here is what’s best as a whole for wildlife and that’s where all of us no matter what association or organization we belong to and our goals as such, need to look at what we do. How does it affect everything else in the grand scheme of things as a whole, because in the end, that’s what matters most for future generations to come. And the unnecessary shock to the system as was seen on the over populated stream to change it back.

  I hope I didn’t come off as condemning, because that’s not what I’m trying to get across, I belong to TU as well as the WI TA and other assoc. as well. And just thought I’d point this type of thing out so we all, no matter what we’re involved in take a better non bias look at what each of our groups are wanting to accomplish and how it affects everything as a whole. Whether we’re for ducks or deer or bears etc. And what is better for the eco-system in the long run.

Thanks for taking the time to read.