We have finally arrived at the review of the late, lamented year 2009.

This year was especially auspicious as it marked the final Out In The Open newspaper column.  As times, people, economies and the world changes, it sometimes becomes necessary to re-evaluate our lives and make tough decisions.

Among all the other changes in 2009, I choose to abandon something that formed a large part of my identity for two decades.  Now, with the luxury of hindsight, some might wonder if it was a good decision.
With only minor reservations, I must say Yes.  Freeing myself up from the drudgery of a weekly outdoor column and the associated administrative overhead has been wonderfully uplifting.  Sure, I miss the interaction with readers and those moments when someone recognizes me on the street and comments about a recent story but overall a large weight has been lifted from my shoulders.

Opening up my daily calendar has accomplished the goals I had hoped for.  My writing output has actually increased, as witnessed by the birth of this new website in September, and other projects have bloomed.  For instance last night was my national television debut on S.W.A.T. Magazine TV on the outdoor channel.  Personally, I wasn’t impressed with my segment but reviews were merciful if not glowing.

Moving along, here is the 2009 Year In (partial) Review:

January- We travel to the 2009 Shooting, Hunting and Outdoors (SHOT) Trades show in Orlando, Florida.  There, we discovered Toadflage:

Now, with requisite drum roll and fanfare, we announce the Strangest Product of 2009: Toadaflage.

This is a new camouflage pattern, unlike the other 23,453 camouflage patterns already on the market,  is actually based upon the coloration of the common toad.  Though the concept seems odd, we will agree that toad skin is quite effective at hiding its amphibian owner given that we have accidentally having smashed a toad or two while running barefoot as a youth.

In viewing the pattern as presented at the show, it does appear that the Toadflage could be effective.  My only concern would be lying down on the ground during breeding season as it would be quite embarrassing to become the object of desire for an amorous amphibian.

February- Bored during the cold winter months, I spent a considerable amount of time perfecting wild game recipes.  This inspired me to rewrite a column about the necessity of men learning to cook well in the outdoors.  As proof of the concept, I offered a cautionary tale of one canoe trip into the wilderness of Boundary Waters Canoe Area on the Minnesota-Canada border.   There, I nearly killed a friend:

Watching the proceedings from a discreet distance, I grew more and more concerned as the preparation progressed.   As things grew increasingly disordered, I repeatedly offered to help.  My assistance was continuously rebuffed in spite of growing chorus of canoeists who implored for me to take charge.  Meanwhile, one member of our party who had assisted the hapless cook in cleaning our fish took me aside and whispered ominously, “watch out for bones.”

The scene was grim: cold, starving men, eight hours travel from the nearest dirt road, watching their cook make a shambles of a perfectly good batch of fish.

An hour later dinner was served.  I sat down on a log to confront the half-cooked lump of gray flesh sitting forlornly in my bowl, spiced as it was with ashes, forest duff, mosquitoes and half- raw breading.  At this point, I reached an important mental crossroads.

Using a calm, rational voice, I said very matter-of-factly, “Jim, if there are bones in this fish, I will be forced to kill you and everyone you’ve ever met.”

The whole camp watched in silence as I lifted the first bite of walleye into my mouth.

It wasn’t bad; especially if you enjoy chomping a paste-covered pincushion that tastes like week-old sushi.

Fortunately, my threat was only a bluff.  Instead I merely grabbed a large flaming stick from the fire and chased Jim for a few miles into a leech-infested swamp until darkness fell.  He escaped not because he was faster but only because twice I was compelled to stop and pick bone shards out of the roof of my mouth.

This incident, now being told in public for the first time, thus provides a perfect cautionary tale of why men should learn to be good cooks.

You can’t always count on having a swamp handy.

Marc h- Read this column about our steelhead fishing trip on Michigan’s Dowagiac river.

April- Read this column…it is perhaps the strangest outdoor column you’ll ever read, but one of my personal favorites.  Just remember, I was raised in a funeral home.

May- I nearly fall to my death while trying to stow my deer hunting treestand.  There was nothing funny about this, regardless of what certain bystanders might otherwise claim.  And, for your information Mr. Bystander, I noticed during the most recent deer season that the claw marks in the tree bark have filled in nicely and cannot be more than 4 inches deep by now.

June- The final Out In The Open column.  You can read it here.

So, as one very interesting decade concludes, here’s a toast to the future!

Perhaps we’ll see you somewhere or some time in WildIndiana.

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