Coming of the fall

Summer wanes into autumn and, here in the northern tier of states, we dig out our favorite sweaters and jackets. For some, jackets ring out for football favorites but others’ jackets help conceal. Hunting begins in earnest early September with seasons aimed at resident goose populations and introducing youths to the outdoor sports. October brings archery opportunities and the broad launch of waterfowl hunting.

Each year, hundreds of millions of critters migrate through the U.S to warmer climes in southern states, Mexico, and South America. These include Canada and Snow Geese, a variety of duck species, doves, songbirds, hummingbirds and even Monarch butterflies! Generally, they travel via four principal flyways as the cold pushes them. For some excellent information about the migration, see Ducks Unlimited's Migration Map.

In 1995, there was what is known as a “Grand Passage” – weather conditions spurred a massive and sudden movement of waterfowl that was so dense it shut down some airports along the flyways.

Here on Blackdog Bog there are about five acres of ponds that serve as migration stops and as resident puddles for the local ducks and geese. The drought this year cut that number to less than two acres – the “big pond” on the western border of the property dried entirely. Similarly, a number of ponds in the immediate area are dry.

Friends joining me afield this week

Normal rainfall (finally!) over the last couple of weeks has flooded about a quarter of the big pond and the local ducks and geese have been coming in droves. During the hot summer, various plants got a foothold and grew where there is usually water. This means a bounty of seeds and other nutrients available to the birds and they’ve been enjoying the meal.

Speaking of meals, tonight I shared freshly harvested goose breast with a couple of my bandit friends. After removing the breast from the goose, the meat is cleaned of all remnant feathers and inspected for pellets of shot. The breast meat is cut into medallions, marinated (a secret recipe) and seared on a grill preheated to over 500 degrees and finished to a medium rare temperature.

A dipping sauce – Dijon mustard blended with fresh jalapeno peppers – completes the service. There were no leftovers!

Today was my second waterfowl outing this week. I haven’t duck hunted in over two years – since the passing of the original Black Dog. I had a smile today thinking about him and about the good fellowship that comes from hunting. Yes, we’ve told those jokes and stories over and over while waiting for the birds. And, yes, the laughter never stales.

Happy autumn!



Duck image reported as public domain and available here: Image

Vince

I had some bad news at the end of last week. I learned that a gentleman I met about five or six years ago died in early September.

I had come to know Vince Harrison because of his desire to memorialize his wife who passed away in 2004. Jo Harrison had been an executive assistant with the Walgreen Corporation reporting to two CEOs. Her love of her job led Vince to us – we have a multi-generational relationship to the company. Jo was the love of Vince’s life and I recall more than once his tears when he remembered their 45 year marriage.

And, you wouldn’t think Vince would be a crier. From his obituary:

Mr. Harrison was born January 1, 1928 in Flint, Michigan, the son of Jack and Aleena Harrison. A graduate of Fenton High School, he was a WWII veteran who proudly served with the U.S. Army in the South Pacific. Upon return he earned an undergraduate Bachelor’s Degree from the University of Detroit and a Master’s Degree from Wayne State University. He married the love of his life, Jo Mattar, in 1959 and she preceded him in death on her birthday December 6, 2004. Mr. Harrison held various managerial positions in the private sector for 21 years, primarily with the Ford Motor Company and Pfizer International. He then established a Career Management Consulting firm in Chicago over the ensuing 14 years with numerous Fortune 500 clients. . . . Sports played a major role in his life. He earned 11 varsity letters at Fenton High School being an All-State nominee four times in football and basketball as well as a selected Genesee County All-Conference six times. Subsequently, he was awarded two varsity letters in baseball from the University of Detroit; was a member of numerous club and recreational championships in Flint, Detroit and Chicago including a national title in Platform Tennis in 1990. Mr. Harrison received a number of outstanding awards over the years including induction four times in various Halls of Fame. These include the Fenton High School Lifetime Achievement HOF (2003); Greater Flint Area Sports HOF (2008); Fenton High School Athletic HOF (2008 and 2011).

Even into his eighties, Vince was admirably physically fit. He had a hearty hand shake and if you grabbed his upper arm while taking his hand, you’d feel solid muscle. Vince worked out daily, enjoyed a good cigar, and could pour a strong one – which I discovered the first time we sat on his deck overlooking an offshoot of Lake Fenton.

I mentioned that our meeting related to memorializing Jo. Part of my role at the University is to work with individuals who want to establish scholarships and Vince reached out to the University through our central development office staff who, in turn, connected him with me. Vince had been an executive who was used to evaluating situations, getting data, and making decisions. At our initial meeting, he pretty much sketched out what he wanted to do and that he wanted personally to select the student who would receive the scholarship. This, of course, is a bit of a problem as when one makes a gift to a non-profit such as us, one cedes control of the asset. Sure, you can negotiate the broad use of a gift, but the day-to-day administration is to be kept at “arm’s length” to comply with IRS regulations. Usually, a donor needs to have the confidence in the organization he or she wants to support to release control comfortably. With Vince, that was the challenge.

He wasn’t an alumnus; he was very emotionally immersed as it was to honor his wife; he was used to being the boss. After a few meetings where he met key leaders of the College and we demonstrated that we knew “the business of education” better than he did, he acquiesced.

Vince established the scholarship and convinced Jo’s former boss to contribute as well. Each year, we’ve awarded the Jo Harrison Memorial Scholarship and the recipients (and their families) have met Vince – to each other’s mutual benefit.

I last saw Vince in July. He and I enjoyed a gin and tonic on his deck (by then I had learned to pour my own!), smoked a cigar and talked about life, his faith, memories of Jo, and the future. After we selected this year’s scholarship recipient in August, I called Vince early September and left a message; a week later, a second message. Last week, I called again and again got the recording. I was worried enough to call Vince’s church – he was a lay minister and very involved at the parish – and they informed me that he had passed away a month prior - days before my initial call.

All of this reflection is a reminder to stay in touch with people. I know that Vince would understand that I was unaware of his passing and missed the funeral – but I still feel bad.

Call someone with whom you haven’t connected in a while. Touch base, laugh, and wish each other well. Life is preciously short and those in our life who affect us can disappear without warning.


The complete obituary can be found at: John Vincent Harrison

Perseverance

“Life is not easy for any of us. But what of that? We must have perseverance and above all confidence in ourselves. We must believe that we are gifted for something and that this thing must be attained.”  – Marie Curie

It’s been six years since my friend Christine got her first deer. She was with her father in my blind located at the west end of the 24 acre tract that comprises the south part of the property. She was sixteen at the time and studying for her driver’s education test when a small doe wandered into range. At her father’s urging, Christine took the shot and the deer dropped – a clean, humane shot.

Since that time, Christine has become very enthusiastic about deer hunting and has pursued time afield while balancing the end of high school and her college career. Five AM wakeup calls, cold mornings, rain, mud, snow – none have broken her spirit. What was eroding her confidence, however, was a number of missed shots through the years – often well within her proven range.

No longer a teen, this young woman became determined to change the trajectory of her hunting performance. A few weeks ago, Christine, her father and mother and I set up a range behind the south pond on the property and Christine shot round after round until she could effectively set a round within a five inch circle sixty feet hence.

Her work earned her some better shooting habits (stay calm, take a deep breath, squeeze, not jerk, the trigger, and stabilize the gun) that paid off last night during Michigan’s special “antler-less deer” weekend. Christine was in the “Boathouse” blind (so named because it is a former children’s play structure now seated in a wooded glen on the farm – and we left the plastic steering wheel and pirate spyglass attached) for the afternoon hunt. Her father, another friend, and I were also posted for the hunt and her mother joined us later.

Within an hour of being afield, Christine shot. We all became more alert as there is always a chance that a missed deer would run toward our position or other deer would become active. Indeed, three small deer darted past our position and two of us shooting didn’t have any success. We figured those were the deer in Christine’s sights and, unfortunately, another miss.

Evening crept in quickly and we soon were packing up the six-wheeler with our gear and headed toward Christine’s stand to collect her. She said she thought she might have hit the deer and described a shot at about 75 yards. We recounted seeing deer run past us and convinced her that she likely didn’t score a hit.

This morning, Christine, her father and I were out around 6:30 AM – she taking the Boathouse again and her father in a tree, me in the “Blue Heron” blind (for a description of this blind, see: First Light).

After a mostly quiet morning – discounting her father’s missed attempt, ahem – we thought driving the corn (walking abreast, 20 yards apart) might yield some action. About forty yards into the drive, Christine announces, “Blood!” Without getting too graphic, generally when tracking a deer, one looks for a blood trail – this was a significant one. This one also began close to where she reported shooting the deer the evening prior.

Yes, the short trail ended at a very nice sized deer that had been shot optimally. To her credit, Christine limited herself to a single “I told you so” for each of us. I’m very proud of her!

One more little story. My cousin, Sean Lee, plays for the Dallas Cowboys as a linebacker and he quickly became a leader on the defensive side of the ball. He was just featured in an article that has his father describing his and his brother’s athletic development:

It was Sean’s older brother Conor, a future kicker at the University of Pittsburgh, who was the family’s best athlete.

“But Sean was always more tenacious,” his father said. “You’d tell him to shoot 100 free throws a day, and he’d shoot 200.”

When Craig Lee first asked Sean’s AAU basketball coach to not play him so much in games, the request was denied.

“He plays so hard, the other kids know they have to play that way to stay in the game,” the coach responded. “I can’t take him out.”

The rest of the feature can be found here: Cousin Sean

I admire both Christine – my adopted niece – and my cousin Sean. There might be something to this whole perseverance thing after all.




Curie quote from:  http://www.brainyquote.com/