Derby Hill Bird Observatory -- Ground Control of the Bird Path

Kiosk at Derbt Hill Bird Observatory

Kids are taught early about the law of gravity: what goes up must come down. With that lesson, the smarter children also learn to question authority. After all, the next bird the youngster watches land and take off again, kind’a upsets the cart.



As adults we realize life isn’t simple; up and down…down and up…round and round…full of wonderful mystery, and all you have to do to see it is look.



One of the greatest examples of nature’s common miracles is annual bird migrations. Just about everyone has seen chevrons of geese flying over the neighborhood in the fall and spring. But raptors and scavengers are a different story. Stealthier, ruggedly individualistic, these fowl do their own thing and don’t usually follow the crowd. Indeed, when they’re migrating most lowly humans don’t even know it. However, Oswego County is blessed with one of the best classrooms in the world to see them in action: Derby Hill Bird Observatory.



Located in the southeastern corner of Lake Ontario, a little west of where the shoreline curves sharply north, DHBO is below the bottleneck in the flyway this class of birds takes to avoid flying directly over the 50-mile wide body of water. You see, the group, which includes, hawks, eagles, crows and vultures, are talon-footed, and they don’t tread water very well.



I decided to go up last week and see how this year’s migrations were going.



I ran into Seth Cutright, the professional hawk counter for Onondaga Audubon, the organization that runs DHBO. He pointed out “around 40,000 raptors fly over each year.”



“March was slow,” he continued, “but the first three days of April were great.”



Indeed, Bill Purcell, an amateur ornithologist who would rather be counting birds than just about anything else this time of year, added “On April 2, the birds came over in squadrons. Counting them was exhausting.”



The day after April Fool’s saw eight golden eagles, 18 ospreys, 2,238 turkey vultures, 188 sharp-skinned hawks, 42 red-shouldered hawks, 712 red-tailed hawks and smaller quantities of other raptors.



As of April 6, the bird count was 13,359. That means 26,641 still need to fly over to make the average. Most of them will make the flight this month.



“What I admire most about being a hawk counter is I never know what I’m going to see,” claims Mr. Cutright. He’s already counted two black vultures, a rare sight this far north.



Who knows, if you go up within the next couple of weeks, you might see one, too, or at least a bald eagle. But be warned “the first time I came up here in 1984, I thought identifications were close to magic,” says Purcell, hinting that it takes years of practice to identify birds whipping by so high in the sky.



But hey, nothing worthwhile is ever easy; and raptor counting sure is fun.



DHBO is located off Sage Creek Drive. Get there from the hamlet of Texas by heading east on NY 104B for about a mile. DHBO offers three observation posts, two right off Sage Creek Drive, and one atop a bluff overlooking the lake. Get to the bluff site by turning east at the end of Sage Creek Drive and climbing the hill to the pull-off on the right.



For more info, go to www.visitoswegocounty.com/tn/morefun/birding.aspx.

This year's tally as of April 6.



Seth Cutright (red) & Bill Purcell counting birds.

Ox Creek Sunnies

Trinidad Martinez's turn on Ox Creek

Driving back from Derby Hill last Thursday, I decided to take the long way and took NY 48 out of Oswego. Just south of Fulton, I saw a few guys fishing in Ox Creek right at the bridge. I’m always interested in panfish bites so I turned around, pulled into the parking lot of the bar on the east side of the road (the locals tell me it’s OK to park at the north end of the lot if you’re going fishing) and went to see what was biting.


The men had one five-gallon bucket half full of seven-inch bluegills. Now that might not sound very big but a sunny that size pours out of the sides of a big man’s palm, they’re easy to fillet and it only takes two to feed ya.


They were using worms suspended a couple feet below tiny bobbers. The school of sunnies was a big one because anywhere they cast, so long as it was close to shore, produced a bite almost immediately, but always within a couple minutes.


The spots that were especially productive had some cover: sunken timber, low lying branches, boat dock, stuff like that.


Dave Karalunas, one of the three, said “the sunfish, and a few perch have been hitting good all day,” and claimed the spot was also a local favorite for crappie. They hadn’t caught any calicoes but were hoping to get some before dark.


I watched them for about 10 minutes. Each landed a couple of bruisers. Granted, sunfish aren’t as glamorous as game fish, but pound for pound they fight harder than fish twice their size. Their feistiness on the end of a line, mixed in with their delicious flavor makes them America’s most popular panfish.


But there’s more to them than that. One of the nicest things about fishing is it never ends. It’s an activity you enjoy while planning, actually fishing, and recalling the memories afterwards.


Think about it, who amongst us doesn’t have a sunfish story. In fact, the lowly, colorful, spiny sunny is usually the first fish a youngster pulls out of the water, and it’s often the last fish, too, before hanging up the rods for good.


As I was leaving, three other dudes showed up, and another carload pulled into the parking lot.


They’ll be biting good well into May, but as their numbers diminish and they get smarter, they’ll be a little tougher to catch. So if you’re looking for a fresh fish dinner, now’s the time to do it.


By the way, just about any creek-size Oswego River tributary’s mouth has fish in it right now. If tributaries are few near you, fish the eddies and pools in the rapids at Phoenix, Fulton, Minetto or Oswego.


For up-to-date fishing conditions go to http://www.visitoswegocounty.com/tn/FishingHunting/Fishing/FishingReport.aspx

Dave Karalunas showing Kahlue a bluegill.



Dick Edwards with a nice perch.

Ox Creek fishing scene.

The DSR Provides High Quality Fishing from Salmon River Estuary to Staircase

DSR's staircase to the river

A couple of happy DSR clients

Landing a steelie

Jason, DSR's river keeper, releasing an average-size chromer

Bordering roughly 2 ½ miles of the lower Salmon River, the Douglaston Salmon Run offers the highest quality salmon and trout fishing on this world-class stream. Two factors play equally important roles in contributing to this private fishing preserve’s enviable reputation: location and philosophy.

Any realtor will tell you, location is everything. Springing from the estuary, a mild-mannered series of slow moving channels slicing through low, marshy islands a few hundred yards upstream of the stream’s mouth, the DSR is the first wadeable spot on the river to see lake-run fish. In fact, its lower reaches introduce them to the first sets of rapids. Starting out as a series of lazy currents, undercut banks and fish-friendly pools, the DSR slowly accelerates into an exciting combination of ripples, mild whitewater, angler-friendly runs and large pools before ending in the “Staircase,” a highly productive stretch of pocketwater on Pulaski’s west side.

Dedicated to responsible stewardship of the valuable natural resources in its care, the DSR manages its share of the river by adhering to the traditions of fair play and sportsmanship spawned by American transcendentalists over 100 years ago. River keepers patrol the grounds, discouraging unethical and illegal fishing practices. Essentially, the DSR’s philosophy provides clients with the most natural, fast water fishing for trophy trout in the Northeast.

My Return
I generally fish in the village of Pulaski and haven’t waded the DSR in years. I decided to give it another shot while I still can (I’m pushing retirement age) and went there last Friday.

Pulling into the main entrance on Lake Street (County Rte 5), I was immediately greeted by Phil, the assistant manager. He told me about the water conditions, what species were in the river, what they were hitting … everything I needed to know to have a successful outing.

Making it to the river's edge on the DSR’s well- maintained trail, I descended the stairs to the water. I started just upstream of the first couple of guys I met.

In no time at all, one sets his hook hard, landing a nice six-pound chromer after a respectable battle. A few minutes later, his buddy did the same. They were center-pinning with ceramic beads.

Everywhere I went the story was pretty much the same: lots of guys fishing, but no crowded spots. Everyone boasted catching at least one steelie and claiming “this is a slow day.”

Really! I thought. Any day I get a steelie is a good one. I later learned DSR clients expect numerous hook-ups each trip.

I asked Jason, DSR’s head river keeper, if the fishing was indeed slow. He admitted it was, explaining: “The snow and ice melt are acting like ice cubes in a drink, cooling the water. The fish are in, but they’re not as active as they will be as soon as the snow cap melts and the water warms up a little bit.”


That should be after the first heavy rain. If rain doesn’t come, the warm weather we're experiencing this week’ll do it.

Imagine: the DSR loaded with aggressive, spawning steelies and famished drop-backs. It doesn’t get any better than that.

The DSR offers lodging, guides, you name it. Check it out at: http://www.douglastonsalmonrun.com/.

Early March Drive Up the Oswego River

Sandy Creek native, Colin Kehoe, showing a perch and the rig he got it on.

When nice weather finally broke winter’s spell late last week, I found myself sitting behind my desk feeling much like a kid in school on a warm spring day. Like a youngun,’ I couldn’t just leave my desk and take off for the great outdoors. Unlike a kid, however, I couldn’t day dream about it, either. So, being a mature, responsible adult, I worked furiously and finished with enough light left to take my favorite ride: up the Oswego River.

I launched my excursion from Three Rivers. There wasn’t any ice on the water nor were there people fishing from the bank.

So I continued north to Phoenix. At the bridge I saw a guy sitting on the wall below the lower lock, pole in hand. Parking my car, I climbed up a snow bank left by a plow at the outer edge of a beauty shop’s parking lot and slipped and slid my way down a slim trail through the aging snow. The middle of the canal channel was open directly below the lock but slipped under ice a couple hundred feet downstream. Mallards sat on the edge of the hard water on the west side, Colin Kehoe, a native of Sandy Creek, sat on the canal wall across from them.

In no time flat the guy was reeling in a nice eight-inch perch.

“That’s a pretty good size perch,” I hollered as I walked toward him.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “It’s not as big as the ones we get in Sandy Pond, and I haven’t gotten as many as I do when I fish there. But the pond is slushy and sloppy, and you need an ATV to get around. Here I can walk from the car and fish open water.”

He was still-fishing fathead minnows on bottom and had at least a dozen perch running six to eight inches in his five-gallon bucket.

As tempted as I was to drop a line, I didn’t have any minnows, and there was only about an hour of light left. So I decided to continue on to Oswego to see what I could see.

A few minutes later I rounded the turn on NY 481 just south of town and the steam plant’s stacks popped into view. Shortly afterwards, I turned into the fishing access site parking lot just before the bridge crossing the lock at Leto Island. I noticed a drift boat anchored out in the river, at the downstream end of the middle wall, and reached for my camera.

Feeling really lucky just catching sight of a drift boat in action, I rested my elbow on the railing at the top of the lock stairs to steady my arm, focused, held my breath and started squeezing the shutter. Just then, the guy holding the rod decides to set the hook…hard. I mean, he whipped his arm back so forcefully I could hear his line slicing through the air. Next thing you know, a steelie explodes out of the water like it’s auditioning for a documentary NASA moon shots. I didn’t get him in flight, but I got him being netted.

From the looks of it, the weather we’re having is more fish-friendly than normal and the denizens of the drink are celebrating ice-out the most fisherman-friendly way imaginable: with their teeth. So don’t just sit there, get out and wet a line. The Oswego River’s full of hungry fish, and promises to provide one dynamite spring for anyone willing to venture out and wet a line.

Netting a steelie at the middle wall in Oswego.

Waiting for perch to bite... and ice-out

Deep Winter Chrome

John Kopy holding a 41", 18-something pound hen steelhead caught in the Salmon River

Seen from I-81, the Salmon River looks too shallow and fast for an average boater to pay it any mind. But in the eyes of a steelheader, especially this time of year, it’s heavenly; just the right speed and depth to float a driftboat.


You see, the river’s base flow in itself is enough to carry the thing. Kick in the run-off we’re getting and the stream turns into the ideal habitat for the fine art of back-trolling. One of the most effective ways to catch steelhead, the technique involves drifting downstream, dropping a couple lines rigged with lures like Kwik Fish, Hot N Tots, Hot Shots and Rapalas off the back of the boat, and gently rowing against the current just enough for the flow to give the lures some action.


“This way you cover the entire stretch of water. Better still, you’re over the fish constantly,” claims John Kopy, a local guide who has back-trolled clients to monster steelies from here to Alaska.


It’s about the most environmentally-friendly way you can fish for these chrome beauties. The only sound you hear is the gentle tapping of the oars on the water, the waves slapping the belly of the boat. Since resident wildlife don’t have any predators that attack from the water, the critters stand there undisturbed, watching as you float by. And although you’re moving at a pretty good clip, the sight, through leafless trees, of the last vestiges of snow and ice being swept off the countryside is mesmerizing to the point of mild intoxication.


Before you can indulge too deeply in the reverie however, Kopy reads something in an approaching rapid and instructs you to reel in or release some line, to raise or lower the lure respectively. Then you sit back and continue communing with nature.


Before long, a steelhead will hit, shaking you back to the thrilling reality at hand. It reacts to the cold steel piercing its mouth like someone struck a match under its anal fin. Next thing you know, it’s heading in one direction, you’re going in the other, and all the while Kopy’s watching to determine if he should keep rowing or drop anchor and land the fish.


There are a lot of different ways to catch steelies at the end of winter but none is so peaceful. Back-trolling down a speeding stream is the perfect send-off for the year’s quietest season.


And if you release the fish, it’ll go away, and maybe come back again next year…a little bigger and a whole lot smarter.

Oneida Lake: Winter Playground

Lesson on perch fishing

Pouring into four counties, Oneida Lake is a big drink of water. Famed worldwide as one of the best walleye and perch lakes on the planet, it gets a lot of fishing pressure year-round. Indeed, last weekend, ice fishers, some in shelters like “Clams” and “Traps,” others exposed to the elements, looked like pioneers erecting settlements on a vast winter wasteland.

But there’s a lot more to do on this massive expanse of hard water than just drill for tasty fish.

One of the state’s first bodies of water to freeze over each year, its massive size (20 miles long, five miles wide) makes it ideal habitat for sports that require large, slippery surfaces…and wind.

One of the most colorful is snow-kiting. Huge kites over 12 feet long catch the wind, propelling guys flying them at incredible speeds. Unlike kite-surfing on open water, ice and snow present little friction, allowing kite-skiers and kite-boarders to achieve speeds over 40 miles per hour.

Ice sailing is another route to speedy thrills. The boats are expensive, highly specialized machines; seeing one in action is a rare treat. Still, Oneida Lake offers the largest icefields in the Northeast and an ice boat can blow by ya’ at any time.

Oswego County boasts the best snowmobiling in Central New York, and Oneida Lake is one of its premier venues. Snowmobilers use the ice for everything from group runs and sight-seeing tours to raising money for charities through poker runs involving the numerous lakeside restaurants.

In fact, the eastern section of the Oswego County Recreational Trail, formerly the New York, Ontario and Western Railroad, runs for 16 miles along the lake’s north shore, through the villages of West Monroe, Constantia and Cleveland, through woods and swamps and a variety of natural winter wonderlands.

And there’s a wide variety of more traditional pursuits to indulge in. Cross-country skiing, for instance, snowshoeing, even ice-skating.


If the past is any guide, we still have about three weeks of ice time left. So, whatever your inclination, from flying with the wind to walking on water, Oswego County’s largest pond offers something to fire up your cold winter’s day.

Kiteskiing on Oneida Lake

It can get windy

RVing on ice with Rover

Safe Ice on Oneida Lake

Ron Gosowski, a savvy Oneida Lake icer, holds a nice jack perch he caught on a tungsten tear-drop jig tipped with a fathead minnow, and worked three inches off bottom, in 18 feet of water.

Safe ice formed on Oneida Lake early this year. Actually, it was thick enough to walk on in the bays the last couple days of last year, which is saying something, considering we’re in the age of global warming. Brave hearts were riding snowmobiles on it the first week of January. Rumor has it some went through and had to be rescued.


I’ve been around too long to tempt fate and figured I’d wait until I saw groups out there before I set foot on it. When I looked out my bedroom window Saturday morning, Jan. 16, there they were.


Icers were all over the place. Some were targeting perch, others walleyes, a few tried to get both.


I ran into a several guys with jack perch ranging from 10 to 12 inches flopping around in their pails. Most were taken relatively deep, down anywhere from 15 to 25 feet.


Ron Gasowski was fishing in 18 to 20 feet of water south of Cleveland. Known around these parts as the “Tip-up King,” he had 11 fat jacks in his bucket when I came around, and then caught another, the biggest of the day right when I got there.


Like most of the successful anglers I interviewed, he caught his batch on a tear-drop jig tipped with a fathead minnow. Made of tungsten, the metal got to bottom quickly, and he claimed its peculiar characteristics just drew perch better than other heavy metals.


He told me he’d fished every day since Thursday, scoring each time, including one day when he nailed a limit of walleyes along with a batch of perch. “I would have caught more,” he surmised, “if I had goner earlier. But I like to fish between 10 a.m. and 4 p.m., the warmest part of the day.”


Next I ran into Lynn Thomson, a veteran of numerous winters on Oneida Lake, probably more than he likes to count. “How were they hitting?” I asked.


“I got a nice batch,” he replied and kept walking, pulling his shelter and tackle with a rope wrapped around his shoulders. His bucket contained five huge perch over 10 inches each.


Thomson’s fish were taken in about 20 feet of water, on a Gill Pill tipped with a plastic trailer.


Walleyes were deeper. The ones I saw were average for the lake and were taken in 30 to 40 feet of water on minnow and jig combinations.


Sunday afternoon the action was pretty much the same. Just about everyone I spoke to had perch dinners.


This year’s ice fishing started early. However, with the unpredictable weather that we’re having lately, please use common sense and follow this advice from the NYS DEC:


Most water bodies do not freeze over entirely. A minimum of three to four inches of solid ice is the general rule for safely walking on the ice. It’s also advised that you should not fish alone, and to let someone know where you are and when you plan on returning. Using your own good judgment and common sense is essential.


Fortunately, Oneida Lake is one of the country’s most productive bodies of water and promises to offer bucket loads of walleyes and perch until March softens the water for good.

A batch of Oneida Lake perch caught by Ron Gosowski, south of Cleveland, on 1/16/2010.

Joel Marko holding one of the numerous walleyes taken last weekend on Oneida Lake in depths ranging from 30 to 40 feet.