Anglers no longer have to wait for the striped bass action to heat up at Lake Mead and Lake Mohave. Although stripers had been biting, the storm that passed through during Thanksgiving week seemed to give action a little jump-start.
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In The Outdoors
Freelance writer Doug Nielsen is a conservation educator for the Nevada Department of Wildlife. His “In the Outdoors” column, published Thursday in the Las Vegas Review-Journal, is not affiliated with or endorsed by the NDOW. Any opinions he states in his column are his own.
intheoutdoorslv@gmail.com
We’ve all heard the stories about the guy who shot his deer, elk, bear or (fill in the blank) with a spectacular shot at 600, 700 or even 800 yards. A few of us probably have told such stories. The story usually authenticates how the distance of the shot was determined. Such statements are designed to add credibility to an otherwise eyebrow-raising narrative.
We are so caught up in political correctness nowadays that I don’t know whether it falls within the guidelines of acceptability to be thankful on Thanksgiving Day, or even to consider the holiday a national day of thanks giving. But since I’ve never been accused of being politically correct, I am going to climb out on the proverbial limb and say thanks.
While fishing at Lake Mead recently, I couldn’t help but notice the crowd that squeezed together at the end of the fishing pier that reaches into Boulder Harbor, where Lake Mead Marina used to be. Where there was room to fit perhaps 10 anglers comfortably, I could see double that, and nearly everyone had at least two fishing rods. The situation didn’t look fun, but as time went by, it provided a few laughs.
The striped bass in Lake Mead have taken a page from the casino industry’s playbook. They have adopted the use of “periodic payouts” as a means of keeping the attention of anglers hoping to put a few of the fish on their stringers. Sometimes these periodic payouts come in the form of a striped bass, and sometimes the payout comes in the form of a striper boil.
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As Hyrum slid behind the wheel of the 21-foot, custom-painted Skeeter bass boat, I was more than a little nervous. Knowing a 225-horsepower outboard was on the back didn’t help. Though he is 12, Hyrum already has a well-earned reputation as The Wildman, mostly because he knows no fear. He’ll try just about anything at least once, especially if it involves speed or heights.
Luke turned and asked me to keep an eye on the drift boat while he and Brett Prettyman, outdoor editor at the Salt Lake Tribune, shuttled the pickup and boat trailer to our intended take out at a place called Dearborn several miles downriver. Brett and I were fishing partners for the day, and Luke, a tall drink of water from Virginia, was our guide.
Have you ever looked forward to an event that could be significant and life altering, but when the dust cleared, you questioned whether it was worth all the fuss?
It still was dark when the obnoxious alarm on my cell phone went off. I hate the alarm tone, but I don’t change it because it does the job. I found the snooze button and for several minutes lay under the warm covers and listened for the wind, all the time hoping I wouldn’t hear it.
Throughout most of Nevada, Saturday is opening day of the chukar partridge, quail and duck seasons. The one exception is in the Overton Wildlife Management Area, where duck season won’t open until Nov. 1.
There was a time when the great thing about living in Southern Nevada was its wide-open spaces, most of it on public land. One could travel in just about any direction and find someplace new and interesting to visit or someplace new and inviting to hunt.
With the sun at his back, Las Vegan Paul Harris hunkered down and began his final stalk on the large Alaskan black bear that stood feeding in one of “Bear Valley’s” open meadows. Harris’ only chance for concealment was a single large rock between him and the bear, but it would have to do. Keeping the rock between him and the animal, Harris made his way across the meadow.
For the past two decades, participation in hunting has steadily declined. For most of us, this is no secret. The subject has been discussed in a variety of outdoor publications, and I have touched upon it in a past column or two. The question is: Why are we losing hunters?
As you read this, the second week of the dove season is about half over. Let’s hope the last couple of days have been far more productive for hunters than the previous week. Opening day was a mixed bag, with some hunters bagging limits and others firing nary a shot.
During September and October, one of rural Nevada’s busiest roads is the Harrison Pass Road in Elko County. This relatively short road links Ruby Valley on the east side of the Ruby Mountains with Huntington Valley on the west, and during the fall months it is a major thoroughfare for hunters seeking to fill their big-game tags in Area 10.
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