Karl Seckinger

Karl "Trout Whisperer" Seckinger is an outdoor enthusiast and resides in northeastern Minnesota.

Ruffled feathers

Posted by: Karl Seckinger Updated: October 11, 2012 - 7:00 AM
After a turn here, and a turn there, I’m not where I knew I should be, but the ruts eased up to a flatness separated by one long green row that I put a boot on either side of and just couldn’t seem to stop stepping on. I had no idea what would be around the next corner and by the time I got back to the truck the two other guys would probably be napping, and since I was too busy wondering where this old tote went, I stayed with it. After a maybe half a mile I was feeling guilty about ditching the guys but I was also feeling so light footed and happy I changed the guy’s minds in my head and they forgave me in advance for what would become my tardy return. Three corners later I flushed, shot and dropped a fat ruffed grouse. When I looked up from picking up the downed bird there was an old barn softly leaning into a hillside. The southern foundations wall was once field stones, and by the looks of things most of them were slowly headed back to their original ground. The eastern edge of the roof had had enough gravity over the years and was right behind and on top of some of the rocks. I moved towards the slope of what I could only imagine years ago to be the barn door and was now thatched closed by plum trees gone wild and when the ruffed grouse lit out I harvested another fresh woods chicken. Where a board used to be I stuck my head in and when my eyes adjusted I gave what was left of the buildings insides the once over without entering. Based on what I saw, I think the original owner would have been sad. There were piles of garbage everywhere. When I plucked my neck out of the hole it felt colder for some reason so I started to back track my way out of the old farmstead. With an over the shoulder look, I left, and in a little over an hour I was back at the truck with a slower stride and the guys who mentally forgave me earlier while I’ll idled away the afternoon, had in reality, definitely changed their minds. I unloaded and cased my gun. Dropping the two grouse in the cooler I took the backseat and as they lit into my back side. As it turns out they were more worried about me, than mad. I kinda felt the same way about the mess left in the relic barn. I asked the guys if some day in the next few weeks, would they go back with me and we could clean it up. They said sure, but first they thought maybe it would be a good idea if they kept a tighter leash on me. The trout whisperer
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