by John Jefferson
We spent a Christmas week in Minnesota, once. My wife is from there.
The newspapers said five cars had fallen through the ice on lakes due to warm temperatures. If that was “WARM”, how cold is COLD?
I had taken cameras, tripod, my electronic game caller, a pistol, and most of the clothes I owned.
One afternoon, I put on camo and everything warm that I had brought and hiked through the woods with camera gear to a nearby frozen lake. I set up by a fallen log.
I hoped for a wolf or two. Or a deer. Maybe a bear. Some ducks or geese might be nice. But my caller imitated a wounded rabbit, and that’s not on most northern predators’ menu. And bears hibernate in winter. The rabbit call was probably worthless.
After an hour, I would have welcomed a chipmunk. Or even a skunk. I finally settled for the shadows across the frozen lake created by the setting sun shining through leafless trees on the west side. That was my catch of the day. Back at the house, someone asked how my Texas green, brown, black, and beige camo worked out on the ice. I sheepishly answered, “Like black on white.”
After Christmas Day, Vicky showed me around the state. The Mississippi and Rum River were still flowing. Lakes and ponds were frozen.
Townspeople were ice skating. Vicky scared me; she tied on her blades and took to the ice. I remembered the five cars. I had forgotten that she was at home on the ice.
Later, we drove through Little Falls, MN. A sign caught my eye — reading, “Drive-Through Game Park.” If those animals were hobbled by fences or something, maybe I could get pictures.
We spotted a six-by-six elk bull lying in the snow with its head up. That made a striking photo. But the real attraction was the predator cages.
They had a mountain lion, a lynx, a pair of grey wolves, a couple of foxes, a pair of coyotes, and others. They were in chain-link enclosures sealed at the top against inclement weather and to prevent escape. A couple of them looked up as we stopped beside their enclosure. Most ignored us. They had seen tourists before.
As I studied them, I remembered I had heard northern predators don’t respond to varmint calls like they do in Texas. That prompted an experiment.
I quickly inserted a Burnham Bros. wounded rabbit tape into the cassette player.
Vicky opened the van’s door to let the sound out, and I hit “Play”.
What happened next was startling – to both us AND the wildlife.
With the volume turned up, it must have sounded like we had an elephant-size, shackled rabbit in our van, wanting out! To the cats, it sounded like supper.
I’d never heard such caterwauling! Everyone was howling. It was amazingly frightening. I shut it down and drove out before the cops and fire department arrived.
If you’re ever there, don’t mention that you know me!
JJ
