Modern Wild Man ~ Corn that Duck!

Modern Wild Man

Corned Duck Recipe

Corned Duck - Duck Reubens are delicious!

Corned duck reuben and a handful of chips!

Duck Hunting Season is Here 

December is over halfway through, Christmas is almost here and soon it will be a new year.  The cold months at the end and very begining of the year are my favorite at Modern Wild Man.  Hunting seasons are open and there are many opportunities for sporting outdoors.  The waterfowl migration is in full swing, and I have been blessed to spend time in the duck marsh and on ponds this winter hunting ducks.  This winter has had mild weather so far across the midwest and the migration has been slow.  Fortunately, I've been able to take ducks from the field on most of my hunts and Meg has proven to be a great waterfowl retriever.

Many hunters have a love / hate relationship with ducks and geese.  Hunting waterfowl is thrilling and can be very satisfying, offering fast action and plenty of shooting.  As table fare however, a lot of hunters struggle to table a duck or goose dish that is worthy of representing the birds they pursue and their love of waterfowling.

Duck is Fine Table Fare

Corned duck and goose breast is a great way to enjoy waterfowl at the table.  If you like a roasted corned beef with cabbage, fried corned beef with eggs and potatoes or like my family, corned beef in reuben sandwiches; you owe it to yourself to corn some duck and get cooking!

Corned duck is a magic dish for folks who have preconceived ideas about how duck tastes, or that they don't like duck at all.  Give corned duck and goose a try and create a new family favorite! 

Modern Wild Man Corned Duck 

Ingredients~

Boneless skinless breasts from a limit of mallards (5 birds - 10 breasts)

1/2 C Morten's Tender Quick

1/2 C canning salt

1/4 C sugar

2 quarts water

4 T pickling spice for brining / 2T pickling spice for cooking

12 whole peppercorns

8 large garlic cloves

Modern Wild Man with a great evening hunts birds.

In large pot, mix together the Tender Quick, canning salt, and sugar to the water and bring to a boil. Remove from heat and let cool.

Pour the cooled brine over the duck breasts in a glass container, I use a glass gallon jar. The duck breasts should be trimmed of any fat and cleaned of feathers and shot. Add 4 T pickling spices, peppercorns and garlic cloves. You may have to weigh the duck down with a to keep the breasts submerged. Cover and refrigerate for 5 to 7 days, stirring the brine every other day.

On cooking day, remove the duck from the brine and rinse them well. I like to cook the corned duck in a crockpot or slow cooker. Line the bottom of your crockpot with the duck breasts and cover with water, add in the remaining 2 T of pickling spice and turn the heat on medium for 5-7 hours. If you like you can add in potatoes, carrots and cabbage to the slow cooker.

Duck breasts in the corning brine.

Make Up a Corned Duck Reuben

My favorite way to enjoy corned waterfowl is in a delicious reuben sandwich.  Shred corned and cooked duck breasts with a fork.  Add the shredded breast meat to  rye bread slices buttered on the outside and holding together swiss cheese, sauerkraut and thousand island dressing.  Grill your sandwich on a hot iron skillet with melted butter and you've got a fantastic meal!  

All the parts for a corned duck reuben.

I hope you get to enjoy some waterfowl hunting this season.  I hope some cold weather settles in and the migration really kicks off.  I hope too that you can enjoy some great wild dishes with your family at a holiday table!

If you enjoy waterfowling check out some Modern Wild Man waterfowling posts:

Modern Wild Man ~ The Duck Addiction

Modern Wild Man ~ Geese in the Blind

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-See ya out there-

Meg watching over the decoys.

Modern Wild Man ~In the Deer Woods~

Modern Wild Man

It's deer season - In the Deer Woods

It' deer season!

The rifle deer season is open in Kansas and I have been blessed to be both in the deer woods and to take a great buck this season!

Deer hunting is so much more than chasing bucks and filling tags and freezers.  Today I was thinking about deer hunting, about the hunts and trips I've been on chasing deer and it hit me that I have been hunting deer over 20 years now.  I don't feel that old, and I'm sure that I don't look that old!

In the 20+ years I have spent pursuing deer in Kansas I cannot even begin to count the number of hours and dollars I've invested in their pursuit.  Time spent planning and scouting, shooting and practicing before season.  Time in the stand, early mornings, weekends and vacation time dedicated to hunting deer.  I began hunting deer well before game and trail cameras, before crossbows were legal except for handicap hunters and before social media.  The number of bowhunters in the woods was few and far between, and the local gas station or cafe was the best place to see a trophy buck.

The pursuit of deer nation wide has taken twists and turns and ups and downs over the years.  Thinking back over the seasons I can remember many hunts and encounters like they were yesterday.  Hunts with friends, with my wife, with my kids and by myself come to mind.  Some of my most memorable hunts finished without a deer to show for the day.  My deer hunting career started out with a borrowed rifle from a cousin and a dandy Kansas mule buck in the truck, but that's a story for another time.  I have made many close friends that have stayed with me through the years of hunting deer.  Friends like Eric, Frank, Steve and Dave started as deer hunting friends and I'm sure that my deer hunting friend list is not finished.

I have hunted deer from the ground and from trees.  I've hunted and taken deer with a recurve bow, a compound bow and a rifle.  I've used tactics successfully like rattling, grunting, decoying, still hunting and deer drives.  Over the years I have grown to love the deer woods, to enjoy the sit and the wait.    

This years deer tag attached firmly to my trophy.

Being in the deer woods and being quiet and still took me years to get right, but I'm glad I have.  In my youth I didn't have the patience to wait, to sit and to wait on the deer, to take in all the woods had to offer.  A lot of my hunts as a young man were three or four hours at daylight or before dark in a tree stand, maybe a walk along a creek or spot and stalk.  None of these hunting tactics are bad or one better than another, but I have learned to love time in the stand or blind.  I have grown to enjoy long sits, sometimes 8 hours or more, trying my hardest to notice all that the woods has to show me. 

Sitting deliberately still and quiet helps you to slow down, to focus and to discover treasures in the deer woods that you would have otherwise never seen.  A little bird on a limb in the tree you are in, a bobcat hunting along a creek edge or a group of turkeys chasing each other though the timber are all experiences I've had while hunting deer.  The flutter of a fallen leaf spinning across the woods in a north wind or the brightness of bittersweet berries against the grey canvas of fall are little things that become big when you take the time to notice them.  Watching the woods come alive at daylight on a snowy morning, the sound of duck wings overhead and the silhouette of a coyote mousing through tall grass across from your stand brings a sense of wonder to a hunter.  The deer woods for me has become a landing strip where I can ground myself.  It is a form of therapy where I can examine myself, find my thoughts and reconnect to the important things that have begun to fall away.

This year was another great opportunity to find myself in the deer woods in pursuit of not only a trophy deer or meat for my family, but also a pursuit of needed time in the wilderness.  I opted to hunt with a rifle this season, with our family labrador in her second hunting season and showing great promise as a hunting companion I wanted to spend as much time with her as I could.  Choosing to hunt deer with a rifle rather than a bow this year was one compromise I could make to help devote time to bird hunting and Meg's training.  

Opening morning of rifle season was warmer than many I can remember.  I arrived well before daylight to the area I planned to hunt and carefully walked to my ground blind under the cover of darkness with the wind in my face.  Reaching the blind it didn't take me long to get situated overlooking old growth timber stretching along a creek bank on one side and a finger of scattered willows and tall prairie grass bordering a small pond on the other.  The morning was overcast and the air was heavy with moisture.  It didn't take long for a few does to appear from the timber with the morning's first warming rays.  The family group of does poked around a small clearing on the edge of the creek their handsome brown coats seemed to gleam in the bright early light.  Before long another group of does, five in number, joined the first group from across the prairie grass.  The two groups of deer joined together seamlessly and vanished into the standing timber to the north.

The morning had just begun and I had already seen deer, it was already a great hunt.  I sat in my blind trying to notice everything there was to notice, taking in the sky and the grass, the color of the bark on the trees and the song of the birds around me.  A few more does appeared a couple times and then were gone again, slowly slipping in and out of the timber along the creek.  Snacking on a piece of jerky from my pack at mid morning I looked into the clearing the does had fed in at first light and noticed a little coyote with bright eyes and alert ears.  I watched him through the binoculars for fifteen minutes or more, sniffing and scratching and doing what coyotes do.  Finally he vanished into the trees to the south, only to appear again, but acting strangely.  The coyote laid down flat pinning his ears, then unexpectedly jumped up and ran a short distance along the timber edge only to lay down flat again in a posture as if he was ready to pounce.  Once again the coyote jumped up and ran backward again, this time I noticed a large whitetail doe appear from the steep creek bank crossing with a fawn and charge at the coyote.  Back and forth they went, the coyote laying down as if it were trying to hide and the doe chasing it off fifteen or twenty yards at a time.  

Watching the show in front of me I barely noticed a young buck that worked into the clearing, he was watching the same show and seemed curious about the events taking place as well.  A few minutes passed and the young buck began to harass the doe as well.  He chased her further into the clearing and the coyote finally lost interest and wandered off into the tall grass.  Content with the show in front of me only two hundred yards away I was happy to watch the young eight point pursue the doe.  Silently I sat in my blind watching through binoculars the display.  After just a short time, from the same creek crossing, appeared a great mature buck.  A heavy bodied deer with a swollen neck and glistening antlers.  With the shake of his head and a low grunt he moved off the younger deer without any confrontation.  The buck jogged over to the doe in the clearing and before he could reach her she pinned her ears and moved away.  In frustration the seasoned buck walked stiff legged to an eight foot tall red cedar tree nearby and began to rub and thrash it with his antlers and forehead gland.  

In all this excitement it didn't take me long to realize this was the deer I had gotten out of bed early to hunt.  Without hesitation I shouldered my 25-06 Weatherby bolt action and found the deer in the scope.  I didn't feel comfortable with the shot while the buck chased the doe around, and when he went to work on the tree most of his vitals were covered up by cedar branches.  For what was only seconds, but felt like minutes, my heart was pounding and my mouth suddenly went dry.  I calmed myself with a deep breathe watching the cedar tree across the clearing shake back and forth through the rifle scope.  The deer raised his head for a minute and took a couple steps into the clearing and stopped.  This was my chance, and I made short work of it.  I squeezed off a confident round, the shot felt good and in the distance I saw a great buck tip over after only a step or two.  

My 2017 buck was on the ground and I couldn't be happier!  I had a great hunt, and was blessed with the opportunity at a great deer!

Walking up on my downed trophy deer.

Deer hunting has been a blessing to me over the years.  I hope that one day I am able to pass that blessing onto my family and new deer hunting friends.

Modern Wild Man and my 2017 Kansas buck!

This years buck is a great tall eight point I had seen a couple of times through the summer and into the fall.  He's got a couple unique kickers that really add character to his antlers.

Here is a small kicker growing down from his base toward his right eye.

Here is a flyer tine from his left base growing back across his head.

I am grateful for the chance to pursue such a charming and magnificent animal.

Modern Wild Man's 2017 buck.

I hope you enjoyed sharing my deer hunt with me.  If you want to read more of Modern Wild Man, you can follow along here:

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Modern Wild Man ~ Creamed Pheasant

Modern Wild Man

Creamed Pheasant - A family tradition and favorite!

Creamed pheasant with a side of mashed potatoes and cheesy broccoli.

Upland Pheasant is one of the finest table fairs either domestic or wild.  I grew up hunting pheasants on the western plains of Kansas and the pheasant hunt wass more of a right of passage and a tradition than just a pastime or hobby.  When the north wind blows from a November sky my thoughts often turn to the sight and sound of a flushing rooster pheasant, if only in my mind. 

The holiday season is in full force and folks are meeting and sharing and eating together.  Try out this recipe that I first learned to make from my great grandmother as one of our family traditions.  This is a stomach and heart warming dish to share the bounty of a hunt with friends and family.

If you are in the mood to read about my recent pheasant opener check it out here!

Happy Hunting!

Modern Wild Man Creamed Pheasant

Ingredients~

boneless skinless breast from two pheasant

2 C all purpose flour

1 T Old Bay seasoning

2 t Kosher Salt

Several grinds fresh black pepper

2 t Garlic Powder

2 t Onion Powder 

1 gallon zip top bag

Canola Oil

1 Pint heavy  cream

All the fixings for creamed pheasant.

The pheasant breast should be cleaned and trimmed of any connective tissue, feathers or skin.  Cut tenders about 3/8" thick long ways and across the grain.  Pat the cut pheasant strips dry on all sides with a clean paper towel or two.

Add the flour, Old Bay, salt, garlic powder, onion powder and pepper into the zip top bag and mix well. 

In a heavy dutch or deep cast iron skillet pour in the canola oil and turn on the heat to medium or medium high.  I like to use a thermometer and bring the oil up to around 350 - 360 degrees.

When the oil is hot and ready to go, drop the cut pheasant strips into the zip top bag with the seasoned flour for a good shake, rub and shake again.  Add the coated pheasant pieces to the hot oil and be careful not to get splattered.  Don't overcrowd the pan, it may take two or three pan fulls to get all the pheasant pieces done.

Use a pair of tongs or a fry spider to gently turn the pheasant pieces as they brown.  If the heat stays right around the 350 mark the tenders will be done to perfection when they are golden brown on all sides.

As the pheasant strips brown move them out of the hot oil and onto a paper towel or screen rack to drain the excess oil.  Move new pieces into the skillet until all the pheasant is cooked golden and draining on a paper towel.

Next, either pour off the leftover oil you fried your pheasant in, or get a new heavy pan out.  On low heat line the pan with all the browned pheasant pieces you just finished frying.  You might have to work to squeeze them all in, but try and make them fit.  Finally, pour over all the warm pieces of breaded and fried pheasant the heavy cream.  Try and get a good coating on all the pheasant and let it run all around the bottom of the pan.

Slowly cook the pheasant in heavy cream over low / medium low heat until it warms through and thickens to your liking.  Salt and pepper the finished skillet to your liking.

Creamed pheasant is a hearty comforting dish that makes its own gravy to pour over mashed potatoes.

Breaded and fried pheasant in heavy cream.

Serve with a fresh garden salad, a side of mashed potatoes, green beans or broccoli and you've got a meal to write home about!

Thanks for checking out this recipe, be sure to check out my other posts here: Modern Wild Man

If you want to read more about upland hunting here are a couple posts about quail hunting in Kansas:

Modern Wild Man ~ A perfect Saturday

Modern Wild Man ~ The Northern Bobwhite

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Modern Wild Man and Meg on a great pheasant hunt!

Modern Wild Man ~ It's Pheasant Season

Modern Wild Man

Hunting Pheasant is an Uplanders Dream

My favorite time of year is fall, and this year's pheasant opener did not disappoint!

Modern Wild Man and Meg on the pheasant opener!

The Ring Neck Pheasant

The Great Plains of North America is a wonder of nature full of vast expanses and true both in heart and deed.  The land of the prairie is honest and wholesome, but rugged and tough at the same time.  Fall on the prairie is a magical time.  Giant cottonwood trees turn a brilliant yellow, the lush grasses of May and June have come full circle offering golden seed to the autumn winds.  The prairie lands produce a bounty of grain; grain to feed countless mouths nurtured by fertile plains, the summer sun and raised by generations of men and women who care for the land.  It is this combination of grass and field, feed and cover across the plains of Kansas, Nebraska and the Dakotas that offers the sportsman a chance to pursue the magic of the pheasant hunt.

Upland hunting is tradition, right of passage and addictive.  Families gather for opening day with the same institution of any family holiday.  Cousins learn to play together around family farms, smiles and laughter are shared over stories of season openers passed and meals are set around family kitchens and dining tables on opening weekends all across the heartland.  If you are fortunate enough to be invited to such an occasion, count yourself lucky.  The fellowship and camaraderie are second to none.  If you are extra lucky there will be a bounty of birds to go along with the fellowship.

The pheasant is at home on the prairie.

The ringneck pheasant is a sturdy bird, tough and agile.  It is a perfect match for the beauty and the harshness of the plains.  Native to Asia and introduced to North America as a game bird, it is so popular that it is the state bird of South Dakota.  Pheasants make themselves at home in many types of cover including crop fields and grassy prairies.  It's this ability to adapt that makes pursuing the pheasant so addictive.  As a sportsman you must know and understand your quarry.  Trying to find and approach a wary bird that's adapt in so many environments can be both frustrating and fulfilling.  Pheasants become well versed at the game of chase quickly and learn to run and flush early at the sight and sounds of hunters.  Both adept on the ground and in the air, hunters must consider the ground cover, wind and escape routes when in pursuit.

Hunting Fellowship and Friendships are My Favorite

Recently I was able to join a long time friend of Modern Wild Man on an opening weekend hunt.  The experience was full and bursting at the seams.  Through the course of only a day and a half we managed to squeeze in family fellowship and meals, hot cups of coffee in the early morning, nearly 20 miles of walking and game bags heavy with birds.  This was Meg's first real pheasant hunt and an amazing way to kick off her second hunting season.

Modern Wild Man with Meg, a proud dog happy to work!

Opening Day Hunt

Opening morning was cool and damp.  Low clouds hung across the landscape like a heavy curtain.  Hunters rolled out of bed into the early morning darkness with anticipation.  Hot cups of coffee cupped between chilled hands rolled steam above the cup rim around eager faces.  The steam lingering lazily under cap brims pulled low.  The first rays of morning light brought with them a promise and an unforeseen adventure.  Men in leather boots and tan vests patched with orange blocks lined up neatly across the stubble of last summer's wheat in hopes of flushing a wild bird within shotgun range.  Meg quickly went to work, her nose to the ground, lifting it every so often to check the wind.  Step by step our group of hunters worked across the crop field, shotguns gripped at the ready with a bird dog in the lead.  Looking down the line a group of men all together to enjoy a bond of hunting and outdoorsmanship; builders and repairmen, fathers and sons, brothers and friends eyes squinted and steps light across the season's first field.  It wasn't long until the flash of wings and bright plumage took to the air.  The cackle of a rooster in flight.  The flush of a rooster pheasant from cover is explosive and tenacious, almost daring the hunter to shoot.  The nearest hunter in line to the bird snapped his gun to shoulder and just like it was written in a Hemingway novel a shotgun report rang into the morning.  The rooster folded in the air and fell to the ground.  Meg sprang into action at the sound of the gun and had the first pheasant retrieve of her career.

The day and the weekend moved on.  We covered more fields and found more birds.  Meg did not disappoint.  As the hunt moved along retrieves varied from singles to doubles.  Meg found birds in short stubble, tall standing crops and burrowed under weeds.  The confidence she built in the few short hours of that weekend hunt are immeasurable.  The joy and enthusiasm of a good bird dog is contagious.  I find that as many times that I go hunting for me and my therapy, I also go hunting for Meg and her clear love of bird hunting.  Getting to hunt with such a partner is a privilege and a rare opportunity.  Knowing that she has the same passion for the hunt that I do bonds us together beyond what words can describe.  Riding home after a long weekend that seemed so short, watching her curled up on the floorboard in a well deserved deep sleep I can't help but daydream about hunts to come and retrieves she will make.

Meg with a fields take of rooster pheasants.

I cannot express enough gratitude to my Modern Wild Man friend for the invitation to join his family for their opening weekend tradition.  The fellowship, family and willingness to share something of so much value cannot be measured.

If you enjoy upland bird hunting be sure and go to this past post about quail hunting here.

Interested in Meg's first season you can find it here.

Be sure and check out this bird hunting post from a Perfect Saturday!

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Modern Wild Man ~Fried Turkey Tenders~

Modern Wild Man

Fried Turkey Tenders - Wild Turkey at Thanksgiving!

Turkey breast strips fried golden brown!

The seasons are changing and it's my favorite time of year.  The leaves that are hanging on stubbornly to the trees seem to shout in yellow, red and orange voices in their objection to the end of summer.  Hunting seasons are opening almost every weekend now, and soon our fireplace will crackle with winter warmth.

Thanksgiving is right around the corner and I can think of no greater treat for a Thanksgiving feast than turkey on the table.  Not just any turkey will do, this year when your family gathers around the table share your thanks and gratitude for the outdoors, for hunting and woodsmanship and for the spring turkey woods.

Here is my favorite recipe for fried wild turkey tenders.  Simple and easy, it's a great dish to share.  I pray that your Thanksgiving table is filled with those you love and offers something wild!

If you are into Turkey Hunting check out last spring's hunt here! 

Modern Wild Man Fried Turkey Tenders

Ingredients-

1 boneless skinless turkey breast fillet

3 C all purpose flour

1 T Old Bay Seasoning

2 t Kosher Salt

Several Grinds Fresh Black Pepper to taste

canola oil

gallon zip top bag

Turkey breast ready for slicing.

The turkey breast should be cleaned and trimmed of any connective tissue, feathers or skin.  Cut tenders about 3/8" thick long ways and across the grain.  Pat the cut tenders dry on all sides with a clean paper towel or two.

Add the flour, Old Bay, salt and pepper into the zip top bag and mix well. 

In a heavy dutch or deep cast iron skillet pour in the canola oil and turn on the heat to medium or medium high.  I like to use a thermometer and bring the oil up to around 350 - 360 degrees.

When the oil is hot and ready to go, drop the cut turkey tenders into the zip top bag with the seasoned flour for a good shake, rub and shake again.  Add the coated turkey tenders to the hot oil and be careful not to get splattered.  

Use a pair of tongs or a fry spider to gently turn the tenders as they brown.  If the heat stays right around the 350 mark the tenders will be done to perfection when they are golden brown on all sides.

Add some gravy, ranch dressing or homemade ketchup from garden tomatoes on the side and you've got a dish to be thankful for!  

Thanks for checking out this recipe, be sure to check out my other posts here: Modern Wild Man 

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Modern Wild Man ~Boundary Waters Vol. III~

Modern Wild Man

Time in the North Woods, Boundary Waters Vol. III Final Edition

The bow pointed north into new lake country. 

The lake country of the Boundary Waters Canoe Area (BWCA) is a pristine wilderness full of untouched beauty with bountiful room for exploration.   Close your eyes for a moment, take a deep breath and try to put yourself into a gliding canoe skimming across an untouched lake deep in the north woods.  Breathe deep again and the scent of old growth pine and fir trees fills your senses and a cool lake breeze presses against your face.  Listen closely for the gentle chop of the lake waves bouncing along the hull of your canoe.  Feel in your seat and legs the slow rock of the canoe underneath you, steady and sturdy an ancient form of travel rooted deep into the soul of a Wild Man.  Holding you up against all depths, loaded heavy with necessities true to survival, the canoe is a genuine tool and companion of the wilderness.

Paddle travel is one of the purest forms of transportation.  The oldest canoe known to history is the Pesse Canoe dating somewhere between 8200 and 7600 BC found in the Netherlands.  Ancient man used waterways and paddle travel as a livelihood for thousands of years and across the continents.   Canoes have served for generations of mankind as modes of trade and travel, providing for exploration and the ability to haul freight.  I think it is this primal thread of DNA written somewhere on the soul of man that brings us home to wild lakes with a paddle in our hand.  Men of domestication, men of education and men of commerce come to the north woods to find in themselves an ancient flame now reduced to a glowing ember.  Time in the wilderness, be it lakes or deserts, mountains or prairies; blows life into those failing embers and starts a wildfire where there has been only cold smoke.

Modern Wild Man with a great smallmouth bass in the BWCA.

I find that when I venture into the north lake country and the BWCA, that the north country finds me.  The north country finds me and my cold ember, drawn weak by modern society and civilization.  Months and years, moon phases and time passed since an intimate experience in lake wilderness vanish like a spark cast into the air from an evening campfire.  The first shove off of a heavy canoe loaded down with trappings for a week's worth of wilderness living blows life into my ember, each new experience, the slap of a beaver tail or the new song of a lake bird adds fuel to the fire.  With each stroke of my paddle into new country further and further from civilization and closer and closer to the heart of mankind I find that my inner fire soon grows into a warming blaze.

The Boundary Waters is full of beauty, teaming with wildlife and freshness kept new by the cleanest air and water on earth.  Giant lakes whose depths are scathing fill the landscape connected to one another by smaller bodies of water most would consider sizeable.  The BWCA territory is so much more diverse than most explorers anticipate on their first journey here.  Giant granite boulders and cliffs sewn together by the tangled roots of old growth conifers give way to meandering rivers and low lying wetlands.  Beaver dams reaching heights taller than a man and spanning hundreds of feet create beautiful backwater pools dotted with water lilies and water grasses bent by the slow current.  One of the main ingredients of a wilderness paddle trip is the necessity to slow down.  Travel here is deliberate and focused.  Propulsion under one's own power finds us examining the environment around ourselves.  A small dark frog perched on a lily pad, the split track of a moose sunken deep in the mud of a portage filled with morning rain or the quick stroke of a water bug dancing on the surface all be clear and noticeable.

A beautiful scene of a wild lily along the bank.  Notice the grass bent by a slow current.

Canoe travel in the north woods is not all blue skies and strolls in the park.  The wilderness area of the BWCA provides to modern mankind real adventure, real wild places and real opportunity to fully experience mother nature.  While some trips into the north woods are graced with fair weather and calm waters, the lake country does change moods and wind and rain and cold are often a ration endured while tripping.  Shelter on a paddle excursion here is provided only by the shelter you freight in your canoe and carry on your back.  Thin nylon walls of pop up tents and kitchen flies do their best to keep travelers dry.  The rough country of the north requires rough and robust gear.  Rest assured, the lake country of the north will test your gear.  Campsites are often nothing more than a small spot of loamy soil parked between granite boulders.  Warmth and drying out come in the form of camp fires here.  There is no park attendant to sell firewood or ice cream sandwiches.  The pavement and gravel roadways end well before the first stroke of a paddle.  Tools for each job must be packed and hauled including the camp hatchet and saw, tents and cookware.  No trappings or tools await visitors in camp, every ounce in every pack must be considered.  Gales of sharp winds in the face of a traveler's route can build rolling white cap waves chopping at your canoe like a sledge hammer.  Men searching for their primal urge to live life and find contentment through adventure and the wilderness often find they had no idea they were searching for those things at all.  Most times travelers here find more than they had imagined, more than they know to expect or look for.  Struggling hard long into a head wind, pulling deep strokes of shoulder burning paddling into oncoming waves knowing that you are two or three days travel from anything or anyone is exhilarating.  Spray coming across the bow of a heavy canoe is somehow rejuvenating and invigorating.  My experience in the wilderness has proven that the stormy winds and weather of lake country travel reveal more to us about ourselves than we had ever imagined possible.

The deep forested canoe country lakes of the Northwoods keep calling me back, and I pray that my time there is not over.  I pray that sometime and somehow I can share the landscape and adventure with my children and hopefully their children one day.  Each time I return I long for the third day in camp and tripping.  Something changes on or near the third evening of a wilderness trip, something in our physiology.  Sounds and thoughts become clearer after the third day, time is deliberate and the impatience of the modern world fades away.  The sun becomes our clock and comfort is found in things like a woolen shirt, a crackling fire or the smile of a friend whose adventure is tied to you and your life now forever.  When I think back on trips made into the BWCA I first find the memories of people, people I shared time and adventure with and now stories and memories.  The oneness and wholeness that wild places like the Northwoods provides is pivotal and life changing.   I have witnessed boys become men and fathers reconnect with sons under such circumstances, the effect of the wilderness between people is amazing and for far too many, unknown.

Modern Wild Man paddling through Boundary Waters Canoe Area. 

Gear and trappings, canoes and grub are all considerations for wilderness canoe travel.  The BWCA has called me back time and time again since my first visit there as a boy.  I have used multiple outfitters, gone self outfitted and partially outfitted.  I have paddle Quetico, the Canadian side of the BWCA, and Minnesota waters.  For my time and dollar I have found that Piragis Northwoods Outfitters is the best in the business.  These guys know their stuff and have some of the best equipment for rent and outfitting.  They are terrific at helping you plan a trip to fit your group and walk you through all the permitting, paperwork and logistics.  An outfitted trip into the BWCA is surprisingly affordable, as far as outfitting goes, and without a doubt the guys at Piragis will take care of you.  When you give them a call ask for Adam or Drew and tell them Modern Wild Man sent you!

Coffee break time after a long portage.

I hope you enjoyed a small part of the Northwoods here and that I can somehow bring a small sense of the grandeur and serenity of the lake country to you.

If you enjoyed reading this post please be sure and check out the Boundary Waters Vol. I and Boundary Waters Vol. II also on the Modern Wild Man blog.



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Modern Wild Man ~Boundary Waters Vol. II~

Modern Wild Man

The Portage

Carrying a canoe and paddles on a BWCA portage.

The Portage - Wikipedia says of the portage: "Portage or portaging is the practice of carrying water craft or cargo over land, either around an obstacle in a river, or between two bodies of water. A place where this carrying occurs is also called a portage."

Many would argue that the portage is the least glamorous of the canoe travel experience. Portages are rough and tumble, often rocky and heavily wooded, steep climbs up down and around that can be flooded with stagnant water and soupy mud, usually boot sucking mud. Portages don't have beautiful sunsets or sprawling views of picturesque lakes, they don't lend themselves to cozy camp fires or even a place to rejuvenate in the wilderness. One bit of wildlife you are almost sure to encounter on a summer canoe trip portage is the mosquito. Buzzing around you as you struggle to carry heavy loads across uneven slippery ground, the north woods mosquito is always ready to help keep you company. All this sounds terrible, reading my own thoughts written down I wonder what it is about the portage that makes it such an important part of a north woods canoe trip experience. Recently, Modern Wild Man made a new trip into canoe country and the Boundary Waters Canoe Area. This post is Volume II of some thoughts and impressions taken from the Northwoods of Minnesota, If you enjoy the read, please be sure and check out Volume I.

Looking over maps when planning a canoe trip at home, scouring over routes in hotels and around coffee cups at roadside diners en route to the north, and finally on the trip, portages are a key topic. Maps gripped in dirty hands come under scrutiny considering portage lengths and topographical lines showing elevation gains and drops. These primitive trails offer us a love / hate relationship with our canoe experience, with explorations and adventure. The more off the grid we go, the farther we reach to the wilderness, the rougher and more rugged the portage we find.  The portages we use today were laid out long ago by native americans, fur traders and voyageurs.  Often time no more than the lowest place to cross between two lakes, sometimes little more than handing a canoe and gear across a dry spot between lakes and other times a walk more than a mile across swamps up rocky inclines and around white water.

The start of a BWCA portage, taken from an approaching canoe.

I would argue that the portage may be one of the most impactful and lasting contributions that a northwoods canoe trip has to offer us.  Time in the wilderness has a way of bringing a clarity and simple focus to life.  Distractions we didn't even know existed fade away.  The heart of the matter is easily found when our focus shifts to simple things like the warmth of a camp fire, a hot cup of coffee in a wild place or muscles sore from exploration.  Often times we find in wilderness travel that we find ourselves.

Modern Wild Man with a food pack on a flooded portage.

The struggle of canoe country portages is a struggle adaptable to the struggles of life.  Transitions occur in our everyday, year in and year out.  Often times we fail to realize we've even been changed.  It's these transitions that season us, that build character and provide for us a history.  Portage travel becomes the salt of a canoe trip.  Before you encounter that magical lake or the serenity of solitude far from the reaches of civilization, first you must become seasoned by the portage.  Just like with the transitions of life some portages are short, maybe even flooded enough to float and we barely notice them.  Suddenly we are wrapped up into a new experience, a new lake, a new dot on the map and a new story to tell.  Other times just like the transitions of life the portage is long and tough, full of obstacles you swear are trying to trip you.  Portages like these are more times than not the most fulfilling.  After a long struggle across rough untamed country heaving a heavy load, legs quivering and lungs burning, the launch of a canoe loaded with those heavy packs onto a new lake at the end of that portage delivers more value than any currency can measure.  As in life, often times the greatest beauty lies beyond the greatest struggle.

We don't travel to lake country to hike and pack and carry, but it is a necessity, it is necessary.  The BWCA is untouched by motor boats, roads and float planes.  To explore here a man needs the muscle and sinew of his arm to pull a paddle and the strength of his back and foundation of his legs to portage his trappings.  The struggle of an encounter that we can measure, that we can time and know will end is a test of ourselves many times more a mental or spiritual test than a physical one.  The seasoning of difficult portage into lake country makes the almost effortless paddle across a smooth remote lake blanketed in beauty more satisfying than we could ever presuppose.

Wet boots lined up in the sun on a granite boulder, trying to dry after a soggy portage.

I suppose untamed portages are more than simply a right of passage in the actual and literal canoe country of the north.  The portages are a right of passage of sorts to the north woodsman both in idea and in deed.  Stories are shared days and decades later of the struggle across a slippery rocky slope with a heavy canoe teetering on worn shoulders.  My first trip to the BWCA was as a young teenage boy with eyes full of wonder I traveled those lakes with a group of young men and dads who are now aged twenty some years past that trip.  When we chance to meet each other and reminisce of wilderness and trips past it is the portage that seems to bring smiles and laughter.  With names like Yum Yum, Misquah and Horsetail; tough portages build a mystique and a following by those who have put them under their belt.

You could say we all paddle our own boat, and no one knows what waters we will travel.  Storms will come and go, and we will float both rough and still waters.  I hope that I can take life's portages in stride, that what I carry in my pack is worth the trouble and I can't wait to see the beauty on the lake to come.

Be sure to check out BWCA Vol. I   &   BWCA Vol. III

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Modern Wild Man portaging across the Canadian border.

   

Modern Wild Man ~Boundary Waters Vol. I~

Modern Wild Man

Into the North Woods - a Perfect Wilderness

This past summer was full of wild adventure and wilderness travel.  One of my favorite ways to see the wilderness is by paddle, canoe paddle specifically.  From a canoe you can travel efficiently and comfortably in remote waters, providing a sort of segway to simpler time and place.

One of my favorite places to paddle and explore is the Boundary Waters Canoe Area (BWCA) of the far north United States.  The BWCA is a magical place full of pristine water, clean air and boundless wilderness.  Time spent in the north woods makes a man's soul spring to life and offers a firm grasp on what is real and timeless away from a reality built by men and machines.  There is a purity there that can only be found in unspoiled wilderness, the earth as God built it.  Finding a place among a vast wilderness to camp and cook and watch and listen and to know that none of it depends on men or tools or money is both humbling and reassuring.

This last trip to the north woods and BWCA was one of many for me.  I spent time there as a young man: learning wilderness travel, camping and finding oneself.  I have paddled the north as a boy, as a man leading boys, in fellowship with friends and with my father.  The north woods continually calls me back.  Each time I visit, I find myself planning my next trip before the last one has ended.  Evenings in the north woods on a distant lake far from paved roads and power lines and listening to the call of the northern loon bring thoughts and emotion out of a man's conscience and into ink stains on paper.  One of the easiest places I've found to write and put down clear thoughts from my hand is by fire light in the north woods.

Modern Wild Man at a wilderness BWCA camp.

The north woods calls to me with the soft voice of my mother, a voice I have not heard for years since her passing, but when I am in the northern wilderness surrounded by silence her voice is clear.  Gently calling me, whispering to my soul, the lake country of the north sings its own song that is like none other I have known.  

The smell of the northern pines and fir trees cleans a man's resolve like a sort of astringent, and adjusts perspective.  The lake country is made up of elemental blocks of stone and soil, water and timber, air and sun and wind and rain; it is nearly impossible to not feel and find a root and nourishment to oneself.

Far from the reaches of concrete and steel, hidden away from roads and bridges there are deep lakes filled with the purest waters melted from ancient glaciers.  Vast lakes sometimes taking days to paddle in length, fill the landscape and somehow hold up travelers as they slide slowly along the top of another world, suspended in a gliding canoe like a cloud in the sky.  Shouldered with sharp granite cliffs, the lake edges are varnished with majestic old growth conifer forests. 

Fog hangs heavy on a crystal mirrored lake.  The deep water sits silently on a breathless morning, the surface tension pulled tight like a bedsheet at the corners.  The first breathe of a sunlit breeze ripples and dances across the glass of morning water.  Sunrise in the Boundary Waters and a hot cup of coffee boiled on a wood fire in a camp kitchen is a cherished time.  

Wilderness travel and time spent in the BWCA is bigger than any post or online blog, but I hope in the next few Boundary Waters Volumes the Modern Wild Man can bring you a sense of time spent and cherished in the north woods.

Be sure to check out BWCA Vol. II   &  BWCA Vol. III

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Two canoes resting along a beautiful wilderness lake.

  

Modern Wild Man ~Elk Steak on the Grill~

Modern Wild Man

Rib Eye Elk Steaks on the Grill  

The bounty of the hunt is an amazing way to celebrate our time outdoors and to honor the game we pursue.  As hunters and outdoorsmen we become conversationalists, biologists and protectors of the wildlife we pursue.  At Modern Wild Man we strive to use every part of the animal that we can, and to nourish our family's body and soul.

Check out a Modern Wild Man elk hunting story here!

Steaks on the grill are pretty darn hard to beat.  These elk steaks were cut from the rib eye, or back strap, as it is often referred to.  This recipe could easily be adapted to venison, bear or even antelope. 

Modern Wild Man Elk Steaks

Ingredients-

4 or 5 rib eye elk steaks 8 to 12 ounces each

1 T olive oil

1/2 C Worcestershire sauce 

1 t liquid smoke

1/4 C balsamic vinegar

1 t seasoned salt

1 gallon zip top bag

Steaks should be cleanly cut and trimmed of any excess fat and connective tissue.  Start with steaks that are completely thawed.  Add the steaks to the zip top bag and all the marinate ingredients.  Give everything a nice shake, mix, rub.  Stow the bag with the steaks in a bowl to catch any leaks in the bottom of the fridge for at least four hours, overnight is better.

When you are ready for grilling magic, set the bowl with the steaks in a bag out to bring to room temperature.  Heat your grill to 400 - 500 degrees and lay those beautiful slabs of goodness on the grill with a sizzle.  Lay them on the grill and don't touch them, flip them, push or poke them.  Let em grill that side down for a good 3 to 5 minutes depending on how well done you like them.  

I prefer my steak rare to medium rare.  Three minutes on one side and a flip for three minutes is about right for me.  Depending on how thick you cut your steaks and how hot your grill is and stays will determine your cooking time.  My advice, pull them about a minute or two before you think they are done.

Put the steaks on a plate or cookie sheet that has been warmed in the oven at 200 degrees or so and cover the whole thing with foil.  Let those delicious medallions rest, all those incredible juices will redistribute in the meat and not run all over your plate.  Set the table, dish up the sides, say grace, have a toast, but let those steaks rest for a minute or two at least.

Here is the key to serving wild game that is grilled well.  If you can, try and set the table with warm plates right from the dishwasher.  You know when you first open a finished dishwasher cycle and steam rolls out like a volcano.  Grab a clean hot pad or tea towel and set your dinner table with hot plates and slide gorgeously grilled steaks that had resting time onto them.

Serve up a side like steamed or grilled veggies, a sweat potato and maybe some course grated horse radish on the side and you have a meal fit for a king.  

The next time you are processing the gift of a filled big game tag, save those steaks.  Use this recipe to grill up a family favorite!  You can thank the Modern Wild Man later ~

~ Eat Wild ~   

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https://modernwildman.blogspot.com/

Like Modern Wild Man elk recipes - check out Sunday Stew.

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