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Jon Hunter, Luke Hunter, and Jimmy Ramsey of Semo Bowfishing doing their part to eliminate an invasive species, Asian carp We are collectively closing in on one of the busiest times of the year for avid outdoorsmen. While serious fishermen are no strangers to arduous preparations before a trip (I've certainly had my fair share,) serious hunters work twice as hard and then some. Re-stringing poles and cleaning out guns are comparable tasks, at least in the amount of time it takes, but the importance of the two do not line up. After all, you can't misfire a fishing rod (thinking back to Chippy's first bouts with a spinning reel, I suppose you can misfire one, but the repercussions are far less severe!) Serious

Damon Secoy and Terry Shands from East Prairie, MO with some big, blue catfish from Ohio River near Cairo, IL Seasons are subjective. For instance, my 9-year old son has proclaimed Thursday to be the end of summer, because that is when he re-enters public school and we get to attempt to decipher the 4th grade version of every parent's favorite paradoxical enigma, the Common Core curriculum... (Digression beckons, but I suppose that rant has no business in the outdoor column, so we'll move on.) For me, September 1 marks the end of summer, or more significantly the beginning of fall, because that is the date when the first legitimate hunting season opens. Officially, the end of summer is on the

Photo: LTC Scott Allen, Josh Gowan and Josh "Crow" Crowley with a king mackerel from the Gulf of Mexico The iconic family vacation, an escape from the familiar scenery and brain-numbing doldrums of our day jobs, when we lock up the home front and pack enough food and luggage (and in my case fishing gear) to start a new civilization on a deserted tropical island. Of course, any hopes of starting anew and populating our own little piece of paradise were dashed when we realized we were all related, so procreation was out of the question, and we burned through (pun intended) all 8 bottles of 50 SPF sunscreen by Wednesday! Mexico Beach, part of the "Forgotten Coast" on the

An eerie calmness lay about the sea, the waves ceased to break, and the water temperature dropped 10 degrees in a matter of minutes. The Gulf of Mexico and all its inhabitants felt the presence of their greatest threat, the dreaded return of the one predator that could not be defeated, evaded, or defended against… This is how my arrival played out in my mind, the entire Gulf and all its’ fish and crabs shivering in fear as I walked onto the beach, in slow motion, and accompanied by dramatic music. The reality was less cinematic, unless you consider “The Three Stooges” cinematic! Within a few hours of getting settled into our house, I walked out to the beach to