By Nick Simonson

I’m thankful for Ole,

And his powerful nose.

As he sniffs out the pheasants,

Wherever he goes.


I’m thankful for trap shoots,

In June and July.

That cut down on fall misses,

So I don’t wonder why.


I’m thankful for crappies,

Dressed in black and green.

And bluegill and white bass,

And yellow perch in between.


I’m thankful for harvests,

That turn the August sun red.

As I angle for bass,

Along a matted weed bed.


I’m thankful for augers,

That run with a hum.

And Saturdays on ice,

For this hardwater bum.


I’m thankful for walleyes,

Whenever they bite.

Whether morning or evening,

Or deep in the night.


I’m thankful for spring fishing,

After a long wintertime.

And when I don’t have a column,

For my skill with a rhyme.


I’m thankful to Garmin,

For my GPS.

As no satellite guidance

Would make my trips a mess.


I’m thankful for no-scent,

In bar soaps and sprays.

For a big guy like me,

Who smells bad on good days.


I’m thankful to Teddy,

The Rough Rider of yore.

For conserving so much,

And passing on even more.


I’m thankful to the Warden,

And his watchful eyes.

That keep honest folks honest,

And do the work of ten guys.


I’m thankful for crawlers,

And leeches and chubs.

To add flavor to jigs,

And my curly-tail grubs.


I’m thankful to Lindy,

Rapala and Storm.

For each year’s new tackle,

When my billfold gets warm.


I’m thankful for the ruffie,

That booms in the trees.

In April when calling,

Or in fall when he flees.


I’m thankful for winter,

‘Til about February.

But not long after that,

My cabin fever gets scary.

I’m thankful for partridge,

And grouse on the wing.

For September’s first trips,

And the excitement they bring.


I’m thankful for trout,

Be they wild or stocked.

And for times when my flies

And lures get rocked


I’m thankful for midnight,

On opening day.

And fishing ‘til first light,

In the backwater bay.


I’m thankful for buddies,

Gathered ‘round the campfire.

Telling repeated stories;

Ones we’ll never retire.


I’m thankful for family,

Round the old farmhouse table.

For each hunting season,

Whenever we’re able.


I give thanks for these moments,

And I’m sure you have yours.

From a year full of memories,

Made in the outdoors.

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