This used to be the big night for me. Wisconsinites would understand. It’s the night where you dig the 30-06 out of the gun cabinet, scrounge for a box of shells somewhere in the closet and look for that hunter orange jumpsuit that has all the blood splatters (if you were lucky) on it from last year.
Yes, tomorrow, November 21, is the opening of firearms deer hunting season in Wisconsin, and oh boy, do I miss it. So, if any of my readers have some spare venison summer sausage to spare, I can give you an address to mail it. Hint, hint! It was always either warm, or really cold the first day, with feet of snow on the ground. Snow is nice for tracking, but makes it a bit difficult for walking up and down the hills of Trempealeau County, my old stomping grounds.
Yes, I have the racks from a few bucks I shot there and in Minnesota, but many of my deer hunting days only produced frostbite and “big buck” stories to share with friends and family afterwords. I remember getting up in the wee hours of the morning, driving up to the Laursen’s and hunting across from the big round barn. There were plenty of jokes to share while eating breakfast, and suiting up for the hunt. Marty was full of them!
I would find a stump and sit while waiting for the deer to move around after dawn. It was a great time to reflect and think, while keeping an eye out for movement in the woods. There were the loud squirrels jumping through the leaves, only to have the barrel of my rifle pointed between their eyes and my heart beating rapidly. An occasional partridge would drum in the distance, and the crows converged on the cut cornfield nearby. Sometimes a hunter would walk through, who I could hear from hundreds of yards away.
When a deer would finally appear, it was either silently sneaking up on me, or running like a bolt of lightning. If I heard a gunshot nearby, I would stand up still and prepare for something to come running by.
It was a good mile or so of a walk up and down the hills to get there, so layers of clothing came in handy. That was the easy part. Dragging the deer out was the back breaker. At noon it was time to drive in to Pigeon Falls for a pancake breakfast, and register our deer if we were lucky. Deer hunting is so much a part of most everyone’s tradition there that churches and clubs hold big breakfasts for hunters, and blaze orange dots the woods and fields. There was no school for the days leading to Thanksgiving while hunters were busy during the nine-day-hunt.
It’s been many years since I’ve gone back to hunt with Peter, Paul, Penny, Larry, and Marty, who passed away a few years ago. But those memories have my blood pressure rising as I sit writing this entry.
Does your child play high school sports in the Nashua area or Milford? Are you wondering what to get them for Christmas? How about a print of them on the court or in the field during a game?
I hope there’s no voodoo doll hanging from the football field press box. But, I guess it could be arthritis kicking in from those old football injuries. It’s more likely…
New Hampshire’s schools are currently in the process of petitioning to realign their football teams if they wish to move up or down a division. Here’s the way I see it.
There were few in Trempealeau County who didn’t know him, or know of him. Residents of Whitehall, Wisconsin, remember the basketball coach and teacher well. Basketball players throughout the Dairyland Conference remember him. Referees from decades of games probably feared him, or at least his temper when calls didn’t go his way. His name was Ken Stellpflug. He passed away in July.
I thought once my son was done with expensive AAU sports, and now playing three sports in high school, the bank account might gain a little. But, now there is something else to worry about that could factor in to playing sports - the cost of higher insurance co-pays.
My employer would like to drop our [...]
So.. are you one of those parents that park themselves on the 50 and shout out instructions to your kids while they are in the middle of the game? Or, are you one of those parents who quietly lurk near the corner flag and take it all in?
It happens twice a year in the Midwest, a war between two rival pro football teams. This time it will take place on the frozen tundra, now more like chilly plastic, in the land of cheese makers.
Are you in to collecting vintage baseball cards? If you spot this one, it’s worth a bundle. The Associated Press reports a 1954 Ted Williams baseball card, issued by the Wilson Franks hot dog company, was stolen from a collector’s hotel room in upstate New York on October 3.
Welcome to Raising Athletes, a blog for families involved in sports. I'm Bob Hammerstrom, a staff photographer and multimedia producer at The Telegraph in Nashua, N.H. I'm a parent of an athlete involved in AAU and high school sports. You can contact me at: bhammerstrom@
nashuatelegraph.com. Please share your thoughts and ideas in the comments as well.
