New Hunting Book

[SteveH2112]

For those who enjoy an easy to read book I reccomend this one

http://www.amazon.com/Fall-Tradition...4684589&sr=1-5

[weekender]

who you be the author Steve?

[SteveH2112]

Of course, that's why I highly reccomend it

[SteveH2112]

Here's a shot of the cover

[Capt_Rick_NC]

OK I bought one. Review to follow....

[Catcher's Mitt]

well congratulations on another publication. give us a little tease or two.

[SteveH2112]

Thanks for the purchase. Here's a little tease.

Chapter 16
Coastal Gunner


Dave, Stevie, Nick and I sat in our layout blinds one day watching waves of geese ignore us throughout the morning. Conversations drifted from one subject to another eventually settling on waterfowl hunting in the coastal zone of the Jersey Shore. I recounted many of the stories in this book to Dave and the boys which made them eager to try a hunt. To be honest I was wanting to return to Barnegat Bay where it had all started myself.
Many times I have been told I tend to switch directions more often than the wind.


With this in mind the next day I returned home from work with several bundles of cornstalks on the roof of my van. My family just looked out the window knowing Dad was about to send them off on a new adventure with no advance warning. Afternoons after returning from work that week I feverishly constructed a PVC folding structure on the boat that slightly resembled a duck blind. With burlap, some netting, and a few bags of plastic ties the boat was covered in corn stalks and ready for our maiden voyage.
With a little info from the computer and a map or two I was able to figure out about where there was probably a ramp that might be open and off we went in the dark, literally. New decoys were strung and weighted, duck calls were dug out and next thing you know we were cruising down route 37 toward Toms River. We followed the route I had mapped crawling down roads looking for an open launch ramp. By a stroke of luck there was one exactly where we needed it!


With the boat floating off the trailer into the dark bay and the motor running I felt like I was back at a special place. The boat nudged onto the sandy shore as Dave parked the Suburban. His look of excitement and the unknown shone on his face as he pushed off from shore. Nick pretty much sat there in the middle of the aluminum boat not quite knowing what to think.

The nine horsepower Yamaha outboard plodded our heavily weighted craft into the darkness much the way a plow truck would bust through a winter blizzard. The trip seemed to last forever as we covered perhaps two miles to our destination on the east side of the bay. With nothing more than a guess, I turned the boat due east toward a tree line that wasn’t yet visible. The skeg of the outboard started to drag on the sand bottom just as we were able to make out the faint outline of the shoreline in the darkness. For the first time in many years I stood in the hallowed waters from where my duck hunting memories had first sprouted.

The cold saltwater pressed against my waders as Dave and I anchored the boat and placed the decoys out in the darkness. I guess since it was our first time doing this it took a little longer than it should have, since shooting time arrived shortly before the blind was erected. Black duck and mallard decoys were scattered about off to our sides and four new and almost indestructible armor plated Herter’s Buffleheads were directly out front twenty five yards out. On this home coming hunt any legal duck would be in big trouble.
Surveying the landscape I tried to remember where the old blind was placed thirty years or so prior. Facing to the west I could see the familiar point to the north and behind me as it was in my memories. The bay and shoreline seemed to stretch forever to the south much as it did in my childhood. Inside I knew that if I didn’t hit the “X” I was really close; close enough indeed to call myself home.


“There’s a duck swimming around in the decoys,” said Dave as he reached for his gun. My attention now focused again with the task at hand identified the drake Buffy swimming in our decoy spread. Dave stood and as the duck flapped and did his water walk as divers frequently do to take off. The twelve gauge roared thunderously twice settling the duck on the still surface of the bay. After a quick retrieve the duck was in my hand like a gift from God. I marveled at the iridescent purples and greens in its head that appeared black and white from a distance. The bird was mature with good colors similar to birds from the past. Yes, I was indeed home. Nick and Dave knocked down several more of the brightly colored birds as did I that morning before the shooting died off.
That afternoon as we again plowed across the bay, I was able to look upon the same waters I had seen as a child still untouched by man. We were hooked. Our next trip saw us getting out a bit earlier with a strong east wind that our tall treed shoreline would protect us from.


The boat was a little more crowded however with the addition of six floating goose decoys. Our previous trip had revealed some Canadians in the area that we wouldn’t mind getting a poke at. Our spread looked very much the same, this time with our new additions as light filtered across the bay. As on the previous trip shooting time arrived with ducks in the decoys. This time a half dozen Buffys had decided to swim in. Nine shots dropped five ducks as we lit the bay ablaze with fire in the dim light. This time we used the boat to chase down some birds that had floated out too far to retrieve.
A single honk had us all turning behind us as a flock of geese came in from the north between us and the tree line fifty yards behind us. While they never cupped and dropped in I’m sure the goose stools played a role in them coming as close as they did. Wide eyed we let loose with magnum loads at the gaggle of ganders. The folding of wings and splashing of bodies followed as three birds fell from the flock.

[Catcher's Mitt]

very nice Steve. thanks

[SteveH2112]

Another little tease about my first deer hunt


Sunday morning dawned in the back of the Ford Pickup truck colder than I can ever remember feeling. We climbed from our “sleeping area” out onto frozen ground in an area called “Beaver Station”. I looked across the field we had parked in to see a large hill. “These mountains aren’t so big,” I said to my father. “Turn around,” he said twisting my whole head and neck. The sight I saw astounded me. I wasn’t sure whether I was looking at Mount Kilimanjaro or perhaps Everest, but surely no man had ever stepped foot on the peak for sure.
“Come with me,” said my uncle with several cardboard boxes in his hands. “I can hit these,” I confidently said to myself. We started to walk across the field. Then we walked some more, and then more. Finally it was announced we were there so we set up the boxes with targets on them and placed rocks inside each so they didn’t blow away.


About this time I turned around to look back at the truck which seemed about a mile away. Walking for what seemed ten miles we arrived back at the vehicles ready to check the zero of each rifle.
My elders set up sand bags on the hood of the truck to serve as shooting rests. While they were setting up I took the liberty of glancing back at the targets. It actually took a few moments to spot the diminutive targets on the hillside. “How far is that?” I asked my uncle of the distance to the targets. “It’s a hundred yards,” he replied. Never did I think a hundred yards could look that far. “Maybe it’s the thin mountain air?” I said to myself.
“Joe, you want to shoot first?” asked my father. Uncle Joe dug into his gun case only to reveal the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. The .264 Winchester Magnum complete with laminated thumbhole stock was almost dirty to look at. The contrast between the light yellow, and dark brown laminates were almost too intoxicating for my twelve year old eyes.

[DrakeS413]

Well as you have seen my friend Steve Horvath has been writing some books here of late

His first book was titled a fish story, tales of fishing adventures
A book written about him growing up fishing and in the fishing industry lobster fishing, among other many adventures. This has some great story’s about chasing giant tuna and lobster fishing when he was a boy.

His second book titled the fall tradition, bucks, ducks, and other critters.
This here is a book about some of our adventures telling story’s of us out hunting ducks, and him hunting bucks, this one is a very good read.

His third book titled real world whitetails, hunting pressured whitetails
Now this book is really a good read about story’s right from the mouths of real world hunters across the country, writing about deer driving, farm country deer hunting, and many more story’s and helpful tips to help you learn more about hunting those pressured deer.

Now I have known Steve for close to 14 years and we both have hunted and fished as much as we could possibly do, Steve is that friend that has brought back a lot of memories for me when I was young growing up hunting and fishing with my father, things that I missed doing when I was younger and had not done since that time, like duck hunting, goose hunting, fishing and some others that I would have never imagined I would ever do.

How about offshore fishing for tuna? and this year, I got to catch my first big eye tuna even though it was with my now friend T-Bone on the low rider out of Belmar NJ, it was Steve who introduced me to him and now its an addiction to do this at least once a year.

How about lobster fishing on a lobster boat, talk about crazy, who would like to do this just once? I think everyone should get out and try it. Steve at one time was doing just this when he was a teenager and had also got back into it later in life and I could not wait to tag along for the experience. Boy do them lobsters taste better after you caught them.

How about goose hunting again after so many years, I remember the first time he took me along, with his father, I did not even have a goose gun at the time, but the next day I did, then next you know I am out buying goose decoys to enhance what Steve had already had.

How about duck hunting the bays and ocean of new jersey for black ducks, diver ducks, and now sea ducks
Now I have a layout boat, a bigger boat for the layout and a ton more decoys, to go along with another passion I have and have never done before until I met Steve

How about many of days and nights striper fishing the jetty’s of new jersey, I remember one time pulling up looking for Steve out on a jetty fishing before I got there, I am looking at the sky as it is lightning out pretty bad, Steve is on the jetty motioning for me to join him, well I did, thinking we are both crazy, but we came of that jetty carrying a 10lb weak fish and a 15lb striper, everyone on the board walk looking at us in amazement.

How about tournament fishing the new jersey bass federation traveling up and down the coast for six years competing on all levels, yup Steve again.

Well any way if you like to read about some great adventures and some true story’s not only about me and Steve, but also some of our very own hunters and fisherman abroad, please give it a read.


Dave