Trolling For Deer with Norwegian Stink Bait

In my real life I have an office I work in during daylight hours. Rather boring at times, but it has become interesting over the years how when you hear someone come through the front door, you can recognize their sounds. Their voice, their mannerisms, their laugh, or their walk give them away.

This was true a couple weeks back when I heard the door open and swish, thump, swish, thump, swish – I smiled because I knew who it was and he is most all the time good for a laugh. This would be Mr. B (I’d use his first name but it’s the same as mine). The swish was his good foot on the carpet and the thump was his prosthesis. Just to introduce you to Mr. B, I knew he lost that leg in a mining accident several years ago, but if a youngster should ask him what happened, his standard answer is, “When I was still young and full of no good, I was chasing this long legged girl and had a blow out on my tenner shoe.” Anyway, Mr. B was coming back to see me and I had a company rep, Randy, sitting across the desk from me and I thought, “Oh boy, this could be good.” Mr. B took one look at me, then, seeing Randy, he started talking to him as if he’d known him all his life. “You know, I got a call the other day from a friend in Salmon, Idaho and he said that the wolves are so bad over in that corner of the state that the deer have become amphibious. He says there is a story going around over there that someone from this side of the state was over there a few weeks back and was trolling for deer in one of the tributaries to the Salmon River. It seems he was successful and the tactic used was Norwegian stink bait applied to a deer fly.” Mr. B then laughed, turned, and walked out knowing I would have to either say he was a little warped or I would have to explain. I should have chosen the former. Randy just sat there with his mouth open, and I felt sorry for him, so I explained a little.

There are a couple truths here that need to be addressed. We do live in the great state of Idaho, where if you are resourceful, you can find seasons of some sort to keep you busy for 4 or 5 months of the year. The second is we need to transport about 3000 wolves to Washington DC and see how they enjoy these vicious creatures.

Sometime in November, my wife, Sue, and I found a bow hunt that’s open during the month of December along the Salmon River. By the time we were ready to go, we had a few more people that had gotten invited and had accepted. So when we showed up at Smith’s Bed and Breakfast, there was Sue and I with our 20 year old daughter, Dawnita, our middle son, Todd and his wife Krystal, Sue’s parents, Ed and Willa, and her brother, Rob and his wife, Martine. Rob, Todd, Sue and I had deer tags, and Todd also carried an elk tag. On the third day, Rob arrowed a deer and it immediately headed for the river. He and Ed tracked it to the river, which was about 100 feet across at that point and was shallow enough there to drive their pickup across to try and pick up the trail. They searched till dark, but they never could find where it came out. At daybreak the next morning, we were driving up the canyon looking for birds of prey as we figured they would be the first to find the carcass. We were still three quarters of a mile from where it had crossed the river when Todd said, “There’s a bald eagle out on that rock in the river.” The light bulb went off in both of our heads at the same time. We bailed out of the pickup and scrambled down the bank for a closer look and sure enough, our rock had hair on it. We went back to the B&B and found fifty feet of cable. On our way back up river, we ran into Ed and Rob, so we all went to where the deer was. Now, when you stand on the snowy, icy bank of a river that’s probably right at 32 degrees, there are a lot of subjects you can find to talk about, procrastinating the inevitable. We discussed that next time we do this we need to remember rubber rafts, chest waders, log poles with hooks on it, or even bring a Norwegian along to go get that deer. Unfortunately, someone remembered that they did bring a Norwegian along, and down to my Under Armor I stripped.

Getting ready to go in.

The trip out to the deer wasn’t near as far as the trip back to the ice on the bank. One advantage while coming back, though, was that I couldn’t feel my legs anymore. The fifty feet of cable wasn’t an inch too long. Since we got back from our trip, I’ve found out anther unfortunate thing, there were at least three cameras on shore and they worked overtime. It seems Mr. B came into possession of some of that printed material and he has made the most of it.

Here goes!

There’s nothing like living in a small town with stories and rumors that there might be some Norwegian stink bait living among them. I guess we needed something to smile those winter months away with. Randy thought so, too.