Jim Casada

That glad and glorious day so beloved by hunters, the opening of dove season, lies just under a month away. This year finds one noteworthy change from practices which have prevailed for years. Rather than a daily limit of 12 birds, hunters will be allowed a limit of 15 doves.

National Fishing and Boat Week is being celebrated this year from June 3 through June 11, and South Carolina, like most other states, has set aside a time when all state residents can fish without a license. The two days are June 10-11.

As each day lengthens and the sun's power strengthens, warming waters trigger the spawning urge in crappie. They gradually move from their wintertime holding patterns in deep water into shallows where they lay their eggs.

Another approach with the dark meat is taking a skinned and breasted carcass, with the legs, thighs and wings still intact, and placing it in a large stew pot. Cook until the meat comes away from the bones easily. The result is a meaty, first-rate stock for use in soups, wild turkey bog or similar dishes.

\Yet for all that I am hopelessly addicted to the quest for his majesty, the wild gobbler, I readily recognize that there's more to be done in April than just hunt turkeys.

Two of my favorite days of the year are the first and last days of turkey season. I await opening day with the eager anticipation a kid associates with Christmas. A month later, after too many early morning risings coupled with too many evenings staying in the woods until pitch dark hoping to roost a bird, I'm a sleep-deprived, semi-brain-dead zombie who can't quite and yet can't wait to quit. The last day brings some of the same joy, albeit relief, associated with the first.

These words are being written on the first day of spring and in a room offering about as fine a view as one could wish. I'm in the heart of the Smokies, where I grew up, looking out over the valley of the Tuckasegee River at the Alarka Mountains and their crowning peak, Frye Mountain. It's an inspiring vista at any season, but on the cups of spring and with a strong cold front having cleared the air, the view is breathtaking. So are the signs of coming spring.

My long-suffering wife calls it "stuff." That catch-all term refers to all sort of collectibles, mementoes, books, and other items from the world of the outdoors which, for various reasons, catch my fancy. Rest assured I'm not alone in my passion for stuff. I regularly perform evaluations for folks who collect sporting books, and all you have to do to appreciate the level of interest which exists in a wide range of sporting collectibles is do a bit of browsing on eBay.

My grandfather used to argue, with considerable validity, that the basic explanation for February being the shortest month of the year was because mean, miserable weather invariably characterized it. Most hunting has come and gone, he would say from the comfort of a rocking chair pulled up close to a wood-burning stove, "and decent fishing won't start for several weeks." Warming to his subject, he would continue, "February is just plain ornery and early March ain't much better."

Over the years, I've devoted numerous columns to thoughts for Father's Day, the occasional piece to Thanksgiving, and a world of words to Christmas. However, if an admittedly fickle memory serves, this is the first time I've ever addressed the matter of gifts for the sportsman on Valentine's Day.