Ep. 264: This Country Life - Toddlers, Tunas, and Tailgates

stories to share toddlers, tunas and tailgates. I've been traveling a lot lately, and even the best job in the world can be tiresome and make you miss home. Does me good, though, to get to meet like minded folks from all over that share our passion for the wild places. I'm going to tell you about some of my latest travel and adventures. But first, I'm going to tell you a story. This week's story comes from the thumb of the mitten shaped state of Michigan and This Country Life

listener Cody Klein. Cody lives in the village of Dryden, population one thousand and twenty three. Cody's got a deer story for us, So, in Cody's words in my voice, here we go. Last year's deer season was one to remember for me. I was able to get a dough fairly early in the archery season here, and I figured that now that I had some meat in the freezer, i'd be more patient and wait for peak rut time

to hopefully have a chance at a good book. Peak rut time here where I'm at fell right about the second week of November last year, and that's a little bit later than normal, and I had planned on taking some time off during the first week of November to try to make it happen, but it never did. However, I did take off a day at work so that my wife could chaperon a school event for our oldest daughter while I stayed home with our three year old son, Zeke,

and our newborn baby girl. It just happened to be the opening day of rifle season. I had taken Zeke out goose hunting earlier in the year, and it was his first hunting trip and we had a blast just sitting there and watching the birds. He loved it, and as much fun as goose hunting was, he really wanted to go deer hunting with me. Unfortunately, I didn't think any of the stands I had were safe enough for

the both of us. Anyway, on opening day, I woke up, saw my wife and oldest daughter off the school, and buckled in for a day of doing my best to keep the house together. While my wife was gone all lunchtime, I opened the blinds to a back window of the house in full view of the food plots where all of the deer activity takes place there. At home, I decided to leave the blinds open on the off chance

of deer walked out into the open. Now fast forward about two hours later, and it's almost time for my wife to get home, and Zeke is asking for his twelfth snack of the day. So as I'm handing him banana, I look out to the food plot and see a big buck. I just thought, oh cool, a big buck is I've been down to hand my son and snacking. Before he can grab it from my hand, I realized

what I just saw A snap upright. I look back out the window and I see, by far the biggest buck I've ever seen in my life, an absolute monster of a white tail. I'm all in a panic, and my son says, Dad, what's wrong, to which I respond, there's a big buck out back, buddy, And I'm gonna get him. In a frantic rush, I grabbed my baby and I move her from the high cherry to or packing play. Now, grab my boots and my gun, and

I go running out of the house. All the while my son was chasing me around, going Daddy, can I come? And how big is he, to which I replied, I'll be back in a minute, Bud, just stay in the house, please. After what felt like five minutes but it's probably more like thirty seconds, I'm outside trying to get a shot lined up, but I can't quite find a good spot.

Run around the other side of the house, and the whole time of the buck is just standing there sniffing around for doze while I'm running around like a man possessed, trying to get this done and get back inside before the baby starts fussy. I finally get to the other side and find a spot where I think I can get a shot off, about sixty yards from the buck, when suddenly the buck spins around and stares directly at me.

I freeze, thinking I just need to be still and wait for him to go back to sniffing around and I can take my shot, and the sound of a door slamming shut, and my three year old running with his hunting cap and boots on, yelling Dad, wait for me. Well, as you can imagine, a buck didn't wait around to see what happened next and took off out of my life forever. I'm standing there trying to process what just happened when Zeke gets to me, all out of breath

and says, Dad, that was a huge buck. Yes it was, buddy, it was. At first, I didn't know whether to be frustrated to laugh, but it didn't take long for me to realize that even though I didn't get the buck, I got something much much better, A hunting partner for life that I get to make memories with, and hopefully down the road i'll have grandkids that I can make memories with. Two. In his eyes, I'm Superman and all he wants to do is to be there with me, to see me save the day. I wasn't looking at

it like that. I only saw it from my point of view, which was go get that deer. All he saw was me going hunting, and he wasn't about to be left behind. I can tell you this, I will never leave my little hunting partner at home. Again, and according to Cody Klein from Dryden, Michigan, that's just how that happened. Well, Cody, I appreciate you fessing up to your moment of weakness, only to be reminded with a swift kicked right square in the realities of what was

actually important that day. I'd say, all three of you are younginsp superman. Thanks for sharing. I counted it up and in the last eleven days I have been through twelve airports. It all started when, as I mentioned last week, I went down to Venice, Louisiana for the meat Eater Fishing Experience at Cypress Cove. Holy cow, what a trip and experience that actually was. I had no idea what to expect other than weather permitting. One day out of the three, my group was scheduled to fish off shore

chasing yellow fin tuna. The closest I had been prior to this trip to catching tuna had been at Kroger on the canned fud isle. This was not the same and it sure wouldn't taste the same. More on that in a minute. There have been two groups before us that couldn't make it offshore due to the remnants of the latest hurricane that stirred up the gulf nine foot plus waves had boats bobbing around out there like nobody's business, and I wasn't interested in the slightest. The film a

Southern edition of deadlyst Catch, starring yours truly. We stayed in shore and fished the brackish water for red fish, sheep's head, and speckled trout. The red fish and speckled trout looked familiar enough, but the sheep's head looked odd, with two rows of teeth that looked like somebody's grandpat order the model of a catalog. Now, I'm sure there's a lot of folks that live along the coast that rolled their eyes at me right now, but come me some slack. Those fish look goofy, but they put up

quite a fight and they taste really good. We had a great group of folks working the event, and our hosts were second to none. Catfish, shrimp, soft shell crabs, grits and the fish that we caught were all on the menu, and let me tell you it was good. Apparently everything down there that swims likes to eat shrimp bait we used on just about everything. I love shrimp myself, and while all the fish taste the great. It reminded me of the dilemma I have when I'm fishing for

flat heead catfish with live blue gill brim. Why do you baite a hook with something that tastes great and catch something that only tastes good. It seems a little silly, but I get it. You can feed a whole lot more folks with a big fish, then you can a little shrimp. Now, the two days I fished inshore, I probably caught fifty or sixty fish that came back to Arkansas with me. Some folks caught a whole lot more

than that. Fishery is strong there, and the folks there that are making their limons fishing or taking good care of it. They're monitoring and catching, measuring any fish that's close one way or the other, hearing the slot limits, and even self imposing stronger limitations on the younger and the bigger fish. Now, that's steward and the resource and perpetuate the sense of responsibility and respect for the next

generation to follow. I could easily tell it, at least with the captain's eye fished with that this wasn't just something they did to earn a living. They were fully vested first in the resource and second in the mission of catching fish. That's the way it should be, and that's what separates us as sportsmen and women who value what we chase above the cosmetics and filling the freezer, from those who oppose our heritage and way of life with little or no understanding of the totality of what

we're doing. That gives me hope. It has me feeling the warm fuzzies on the inside when I think about the future and what we're leaving for the next generations. I was also hoping the small round patch I stuck behind my ear was going to keep me from having a different feeling inside. As we finally set sail before daylight with the blue waters of the Gulf of Mexico. Being in a boat that could fit in a barn on a body of water that was big as well.

Everything in the world that wasn't dirt wasn't really a big deal. It was the thought of getting seasick and being miserable all day and everyone else suffering through my misery while catching fishing having a great time. I tried to calm myself down by remembering all the times I sat on the edge of a helicopter and legs dangling outside and hooping and hollering like I was riding a

roller coaster. And then I thought about all the birthdays I've had since then, and the last roller coaster I rode, the one upside down that make me wish that hadn't been born. Other than that, I was fine, but the sea was calm and the fishing was good. The idea of being so far away from the bank that you couldn't see land in any direction was a bit taxing

on my perception of reality. As the depth finders said that there was four thousand feet of water between the bottom of my feet and the bottom of the ocean. Now that's a little over three quarters of a mile. This morning I walked out from where I was deer hunting. That was a little over three quarters of a mile too. I was just easing along, taking my time, not kicking up any dust, but not lollygagging either, And that stroll

took me over twenty minutes. Now, that's a lot of water, and there's stuff swimming around in there that will swallow you whole. And keep right on going. My first goal wasn't to catch a fish. It wasn't even not to get seasick. It was to stay on the right side

of the boat. We drove out to some offshore oil platforms and fish with spinning rods like you'd fish with around home for bass and catfish, except these were rigged up with a string of six barblous jigs on them, and we'd cast out and sometimes catch six little bait fishing about the size of the grand prize goldfish you'd

wind chunking darts at the county fair. The old rig workers would watch us from above and give the latest info to the captain on what they'd seen as far as fish locations, and if anyone else had been out there and doing any good. Another thing that's foreigned to me is the life those folks lead, Like my friends Joey Rodgers and Jerry Bocher, who spent their careers working offshore. I'm thankful for them doing it so I don't have to.

It'd be hard for me to watch someone else fishing while I was supposed to be at work, but that's just what we were doing. And after what seemed like one failed to tempt after another, we started catching those big yellow fintuna. I watched all but one person on that boat catch a fish before it became my turn. I studied the captain's directions on the proper way to pull, and went to real, letting the rod do the work of tiring the fish, taking advantage of the opportunity to

watch and learn before my time in the barrel came around. Then, when it last I had a tuna on the end of the line, I forgot everything that I just witnessed over the previous two hours. I lost all train of thought, and I had to be instructed all over again on what I'd been watching. First of all, it's fishing. It ain't that hard, old, but it is. There were muscles in my back I hadn't used since birth that fish. Over the next twenty minutes, made sure that each one

got a vigorous workout. Fifteen minutes into the hook up, and I looked over the side and saw a big flash of silver contrasting in the seemingly bottomless depths of cobalt blue. There he was, just below the boat. The captain, who was standing beside me, reminded me every two minutes, so everything that I was doing was the exact opposite of what he had just instructed me to do, said the other. Seventy feet, and we'll get a gaff in him, pull up, reel down. All I heard was another seventy feet.

Seventy feet. For the love of humanity, how in the name of all that's holy could it still be seventy feet from me to the silver torpedo I had hooked in the apparatus I was now wearing like a back brace strapped to the reel. It did relieve my arms from the strain, but it gave me concern that I

was now at the mercy of my own agility. Should a sudden wave hit the boat, I slip and fall on the wet deck while literally tied to a fish that can swim forty seven miles an hour and dive well over three thousand feet, which, if you remember, still ain't near the bottom of where we were bobbing around. Finally, the red october surfaced, and the captain gaffed it and pulled it into the boat. Good night, nurse, the deed

was done. One lights out love taped to the top of that tuna's nugging, and that was all she wrote. I stood there in amazement looking at that fish that I'm not one hundred percent sure I caught. It was more like he just let me win. But he was beautiful. Every line, every fin, every feature, even its color represented speed. I believe the Good Lord made him a fish instead of a bird so we could have a chance at seeing them. If they weren't slowed down by having to swim.

I don't know if we'd even know they lived among us. Back at the lodge, my friend and colleague Peter Koh fixed us up some tunas of bechay. The pieces were marinated and citrus and seasonings and served as is. Now I would have called it raw, but being of a somewhat adventurous mindset, I tried it. The Peruvians developed the Savichier method of preparing fish prior to Columbus hitting the bank in fourteen ninety two. I ate three pieces of it, more or less, just to check the box of eating

something I'd always heard about. It stated with me, about as long as grass stays with the goose, It's not like those folks in Peru didn't have corn to grind up and make meal out of it to fry fish, as they were intended to be prepared and eating. They've been growing it for thousands of years before that. Anyway, I tried it now. They also seared some on a griddle like a steak and served it medium rare, which is my favorite way to eat beef, and it was

absolutely outstanding. It tasted nothing like I'd imagined it would. My only reference to tuna up until then was what came out of a can. My wife, Alexis makes the best tuna salad I've ever eaten. Beni's Louisiana may have ruined that for me. Maybe I'll start calling it something else so as not to disappoint my taste buds when she makes it. And just like that, it was time to pack up and head to the airport again. This time we'd be Wheels down in Knoxville, Tennessee, for a

little squirrel hunting and football tailgate. We were the guests of Rich Frowning, a world class CrossFit athlete who has lived in Tennessee most of his life. He and his business partners and friends Josh Goodman and Matt HEWITTT Clay Bow, and a whole gaggle of meat eater production folks gathered at Rich's place to hunt and cook up some squirrels the day before the meat Eater tailgate event near Kneeland Stadium prior to the kickoff of the Alabama Tennessee football game.

If you saw that game, you know it was a great contest with lots of drama, big plays, and ended with the home crowd rushing the field and uncorking the gold posts for the planet Earth. A good time was happened by all, well except for except for Alabama, but they were in the game right up until the bitter end. And as good as the game was, as exciting of a finish and as loud as one hundred and two thousand people work, it paled in comparison what took place

prior to kick off. Starting at ten thirty that morning, Rich Clay and I were visiting with anyone and everyone that wanted to stop by and talk a while. Individuals, couples, and whole family stopped by. I was holding youngins from all over the country and talking with adults who appreciated the content that they hear and all the stuff they don't when they listen to this country life and bear grease. I've said it before that these events are so much fun for me to meet and talk with the people

who listen. The format of Clay's show has him interviewing and traveling to speak with most interesting people around, while mine has me talking into a microphone and upstairs of my office by myself. It's so much fun for me to see from the people who've invited me into their cars, trucks, and homes each week. Will is a native of the volunteer State, sporting sunglasses a magnum PI mustache into this country life t shirt. He walked up and introduced himself.

We visited for quite a while before he handed me a couple of case knives that he's brought as gifts. They're sitting here on his table as I write this, along with the keychain he included with the case brand logo. We had our picture made together. Didn't feel like a very square deal for Will two knives and returned for a picture. I talked for Veny as trapping young lad who was just beginning his career law enforcement, having recently been hired by a department, and still waiting for his

date to start the academy. I remember what that was like, and I pray that he will come through on the other side of this monumental task that he's volunteered for, unscathed and with the same enthusiasm that he has now. Then there were couples with children, all of which I wish I could have brought home with me. I'm honored that some parents share these weekly ramblems with their youngsters

and listen together. For that, I'm eternally grateful. It's a big reminder of the responsibility I have when I see the children who listen, that the next generation of outdoors people are being formed right now with tiny little building blocks that over time will define our culture and the

direction that goes from where it is today. We may be driving the train at present, but where the tracks are laid twenty years from now foundationally are being decided every day with every interaction we have with our youth. We need to make sure we're doing it right. It's been a busy couple of weeks, and I'm ready to

get home and see my family. I missed them something terrible, but the absence of them has been made a little easier by everyone who allowed me to be a part of theirs, even if it was fifteen minutes at a time. Two more days and I'll be home, but me and Austin Cleverad better known as Chili to all of us at Meat Eater and I are currently in search of white tailed deer here in Arkansas. Chili's Meat Eater's production

coordinator and beloved by all who know him. I've been trying to get that former marine and pride of South Dakota down here for the last two years, and we finally made it happen. We'll be dropping a little extra content if all goes well, and I hope you'll catch that one if it does. Like I always say, don't just be cool, be Chili. Thank y'all so much for listening to me and Clay Bow here on the Beargreas channel. You know there's just about something for everyone on Meat

Eaters Podcast guest Network. I encourage you to check them a whole out and when you have a chance and share them with others you think that might enjoy them too. Until next week, this is Brent Reeds signing off. Y'all be careful