Divine intervention needed this hunting season

Outdoors in Alaska, by Howard Delo

Beggars can't be choosers, and this year, I have been a real "beggar!" If you're like me, every once in a while, things go the way you planned and dreamed about. And then there's the normal situation -- nothing goes right.

If you can relate to my situation, read on to learn my tale of woe. If you are one of the truly blessed and have never experienced this dilemma, might I suggest re-reading the Just Frank column for a "different" and often humorous look at life?

A little background will put my "beggar" status in perspective. Back in 1998, I could do no wrong in my hunting and fishing adventures. I caught four nice king salmon that year and helped my wife boat the largest king salmon she has ever caught -- a 44-pounder out of the Little Willow. That fall, I tagged a nice fork-horn moose on the first day of the late spikefork moose season.

We had a freezer full of sockeyes from dipnetting in July on the Chitina and the silver salmon seemed to almost leap into the boat of their own volition during August. That was a hunting and fishing season I will long remember.

Now back to real time -- the 2004 season. You've possibly read about my lack of success at the black bear baiting site this past spring. I recently told you about our dipnetting adventures on the Kenai River and, while the trip ultimately was successful, there were several moments where I was having serious doubts.

I've only been fishing the valley lakes once so far this year. I told you about that, too. I finally did catch my limit of five rainbows, but only after missing probably three dozen strikes.

I also managed to catch myself in my left cheek, just under my glasses, after trying to set the hook a little too hard on one strike. Between my beard and Divine Providence, I only managed to break the skin without burying the barb. This year I'm having trouble even catching myself properly! I've kept this quiet so far, but since I'm baring my soul, I must admit that I had a king salmon on my line for maybe a full second this past season and that's it. Naturally, my wife caught a king, but not me. I hoped to redeem myself fishing for silvers.

While the season is not over, my "luck" is still holding. As I write this, I have yet to hook up with a silver salmon. My one minor triumph happened the first week of August. After about a zillion casts with a spinner right through the middle of a school of chum salmon, a male finally grabbed the lure, probably out of pity.

After a short but gallant fight, I dragged it up on the bank and whacked it with my club. Normally I would have let it go, but times are tough. That evening, I fried up the skinned fillets, using a variety of spices in the flour batter. The chum had a very delicate flavor and actually was quite good. My wife agreed too.

Hunting season is nearly here and I shudder to think my streak will continue. I've got a spot in mind to watch during the archery moose season and I bought a new shotgun specifically for hunting ducks. Both of these endeavors will require my riverboat, which currently needs a "minor" repair to the outboard. I can't get the boat in for the necessary work until late August, so my moose trip is questionable, unless I want to gamble the charging system is at least partially working.

As with most of life's major dilemmas, when all else fails, one often turns to religion for help. I'm going bowhunting with a group of ministers up the Dalton Highway for caribou later this year. I suspect their "connections" are better than mine and, just maybe, a little Divine blessing will come my way simply by association. It can't hurt!

Howard Delo has lost 25 pounds in the last few months and is not sure he will last the winter without harvesting some fresh fish or game.