By Kevin Woster

You guys worried about lead in your venison? North Dakota health officials are. That’s why they recommended that food banks up north dump their deer burger.

 Minnesota and Iowa officials followed with a similar alert,  based on a CT Scan survey of venison burger conducted by a Bismarck doctor, who says he found lead in 60 percent of 100 samples.

No word on how much lead, or whether it’s at a level that would pose a serious health threat. (But it had me recalling all the lead pellets I’ve munched over the years, while dining on wild game birds.)

I suppose since most of that donated venison is burger, a little lead could go a long way.

But seriously, is it worth tossing all that free protein for low-income folks who really need it?

By Kevin Woster

Richard Widmark is dead, at 93.

So passes not just a former star actor - Death of a Gunfighter, Judgment at Nuremburg, The Alamo and many more - but also one of the many notable pheasant hunters who once sipped coffee and ate delightful pies at the Derby Cafe in Chamberlain, before and after their pheasant hunts.

Clark Gable was there, too, back in the day, as a guest of Sports Afield field editor Jimmy Robinson, a regular guest and friend of the Derby clan, and a regular foot soldier on the annual October assault on central South Dakota pheasnt turf during the 1950s.

Being born late in 1951, I don’t remember seeing those classic stars aroung town. But some pretty interesting pheasant hunters have shown up in central South Dakota in my day: Billy Martin, Vern Gagne, President George HW Bush, John Havlicek, Bo Jackson, to name a few.

Kent Hrbek, Kevin McHale and Bud Grant came in farther east. There are others, too, besides VP Cheney and his annual visit to the Paul Nelson preserve near Gettysburg, who I’m not remenbering right now. Help me work on the list?

With a GF&P employee checking it out, perch tumble into Gardner Lake near Buffalo as part of the state’s annual stocking program. State regs limit the stocking of public waters to government crews.

By Kevin Woster

Public water isn’t what it used to be. It’s a lot more.

No question, GF&P controls stocking on public waters, such as Missouri River reservoirs, Canyon Lake, Spearfish Creek or Orman Dam.

Waters on private property are more complicated, although a relatively recent state Supreme Court decision seems to indicate that they are public waters, too.

“That basically said all waters are public waters,” GF&P fisheries chief John Lott of Pierre says. “The question becomes access and use.”

GF&P contends that if our main man rd has a sweet bass or trout dam on his property, the water itself is public - technically. As a practical matter, however, it’s rd’s land and rd controls the access to the water - unless he has an agreement with GF&P.

He can pretty much stock it as he sees fit, so far.

“We don’t get a lot of heartburn about that on private land, for just recreational fishing,” Lott said. “Landowners have always moved fish around on their own land.”

The agency is looking at the issue, however, in light of the Supreme Court ruling. And the fact that virtually all water, natural or impounded, is in a drainage that connects to other waters adds a public-policy question to waters on private land.

That’s especially true in an era of increasing problems with  invading aquatic plants and nuisance fish.  It could lead to review of state fishing regs that cover stocking.

“Even in water that seems completely enclosed, if we ever do get high-water years again, we could have fish move out of that dam or lake and into other waters,” Lott said. “We are thinking about all those issues.”

There’s no thinking necessary about public waters, however. You can’t stock them unless GF&P is involved. That includes dumping a northern pike in some water you hope to fish, because YOU’VE decided it would be a good idea.

It wouldn’t.

You also can’t dump the rest of your live minnows in public waters, either.

By Kevin Woster

That’s kind of what the WildEarth Guardians are saying in their federal lawsuit to force a U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service response to its petition to list the black-tailed prairie dog under the Endangered Species Act.

We’ve been here before, not so very long ago. Environmental groups petitioned for prairie-dog listing in the late 1990s, as I recall, when Bill Clinton was president and the black tail was actually considered a species that warranted listing by the F&WS.

But the agency never got around to it, partly because of other listing priorities. And the effort faded as South Dakota and other states came up with management plans to conserve the cute-but-aggravating prairie pups.

 It didn’t hurt the anti-listing cause to have George Bush in the White House, either.

Now the fight returns, with WildEarth Guardians asserting that the dogs face new threats including poisoning and shooting, as well as disease.

Of course, it’s difficult for anybody living in western South Dakota to seriously consider the black-tailed prairie dog threatend or endangered. And in many areas, they’re thick as fleas.

But there was substantial evidence for listing the last time around. I wonder if anything has changed?

Traditionally a productive stretch of Hayes Lake in Stanley County, this creek arm is dry and dusty these days, as the lake shrivels toward the dam.

By Kevin Woster

It’s a sad sight, for a small-lake jig pitcher like me.

I’m sure Hayes Lake has been in worse shape, but I can’t remember much worse since I first pitched a spinnerbait into its murky water almost 30 years ago.

I still like to stop for a cast or two during the drive between Pierre and Rapid City. Two years ago I was doing that at this very spot, just a long cast or two off Highway 14/34. While Mary read in the truck, I caught a couple nice largemouth bass, some bluegills and crappies and a couple of northern pike.

All in about half an hour, never more than 50 yards from the truck.

Now look at it. And it’s not the only small West River lake or big stock dam in such sad shape, as the dry spell drags on.

Makes you wonder how those 5-pound largemouths are doing in the water that’s left.

Also makes you wonder when we’ll get a real serious spring snow or gully washer.

 Same guy, different fish.

By Kevin Woster

While you’re figuring out the last lunker, add this one to your chores.

I can only tell you that both were taken in South Dakota by a South Dakotan.

And this one? It’s about a pound and a half bigger than the one below.

 While you’re figuring out the species and place, how about a guess on how big they are?

 

A guy from somewhere holds some kind of big fish.

 By Kevin Woster

The rest is up to you.

The rest of the fish story, that is.

 What’s the fish? Who’s the guy? Where’d he get it?

I’ll give you a hint: It’s not another photo from Hans Stephenson’s recent trip to New Zealand.

By Kevin Woster

But I suppose some landowners won’t.

An ill-defined notion called “landowner tolerance” is always a factor when the state Game, Fish & Parks Department sets hunting seasons. We can argue how big of a factor it is, but it’s there.

It’s likely to be a factor next month when the GF&PCommission hears public testimony and takes final action on a proposal to extend the state pheasant season through the month of January.

I love the idea of another three weeks or so of pheasant hunting. My guess is our main pheasant-hunting man Schoenbeck is already feeling giddy at the idea as well.

And as GF&P assistant wildlife director George Vandel says, there’s no biological reason not to extend the season and allow more hunting time.

“Pheasant harvest by hunters doesn’t any any significant impact on the pheasant population, especially since we’re only harvesting roosters,” Vandel said. “Whether or not we harvest more pheasants in January isn’t a factor on the population.”

Winter weeather is. Habitat is. Conditions during the spring nesting and brood-rearing seasons are.

The big question will be whether landowners want to put up with a few more hunters pestering them for a few more weeks, and how vocal and numerous they’ll be if they don’t.

 We’ll see what they say about that next month.

 Or sooner, perhaps….

By Kevin Woster

OK, so the Wizard of Oz song doesn’t work so well when the lions aren’t cowardly.

And it’s pretty clear they’re not cowardly in the Black Hills, especially now that we’ve had our first confirmed lion attack.

At least, I think that’s what we had. GF&P folks say that 33-year-old Ryan Hughes of Rapid City seemed entirely credible as a victim and witness of the attack, even if his story seems, well, odd on several points.

A mountain lion jumps an ice fishermen along a shoreline out in the open on a calm, sunny afternoon? Apparently without being provoked?

 Hughes struggles on his back for an estimated five minutes fending off the cat attack, and ends up with relatively minor injuries?

There’s no blood at the scene. No evidence of recent lion activity. No lion tracks in the semi-slushy surface of Sheridan Lake. And well-trained, experienced and effecitve lion hounds work the area for hours without finding a lion or even striking a hot - or luke warm - scent trail?

What’s up with that?

Hughes apparently is an experienced outdoorsman who could be expected to know a mountain lion from a bobcat from a stray dog from a weasel.

So do we just believe him and write it down as a confirmed attack?

Or what?

And why won’t he call me back to talk about it?

 

Matthew Bettmeng works a flowing pool in Canyon Lake Park Saturday afternoon, as an odd character with a camera snaps pictures.

By Kevin Woster

It’s hard for me to pass a fisherman and not stop.

It’s even harder to pass up a fisherboy.

If you ever lose touch with the roots of your fishing passions, just hang out with a kid and his fishing pole for a while. It’ll all come back, suddenly strong and sharp as a hook set.

That’s why taking a kid fishing is such a blend of giving and getting. You give time to the kid. The kid gives you back a piece of your youth.

I didn’t have much time to spend with Matthew Bettmeng yesterday at Canyon Lake Park. Mary and I were on our way out for a hike when we cruised through the park and I spied Matthew and his fly rod tossing a bright red bit of fuzz into one of the flow-through pools in the park.

His bike was nearby, with a tube rod holder strapped to the handle bars.

“Look at that kid,” I said to Mary. “I gotta stop.”

I introduced myself, snapped a few digital images and gave Matthew my Journal card so that he - and, later, his parents - wouldn’t think I was just some odd character randomly snapping pictures of a 10-year-old.

 Well, OK, I  guess I was an odd character snapping pictures of a 10-year-old, but it wasn’t random.

I also asked Matthew if he tied the fly himself, a question that turned the initially shy kid into a chatty flyfisher.

“Yeah,” he said with a grin. “I got a whole box full.”

Then he dug around in his vest, pulled out the fly box and went positively conversational as he showed off his handiwork.

There were some killer flies in that box, as well as some multi-colored assurance - clear in the bright smile on Matthew’s face as he worked that little pool - that the future of fishing is in good hands.

Home-tied flies? Heck yeah, a whole box full.