New Pro Staff Appointment

Jesús Ariño - Aragón, Espana has been duly appointed Senior Field Tester. Fishing with a rod like that is an ungodly accomplishment!

Health Tip for Anglers Attending the Big Woods Summit

Quoting GlenG - "This year could be the best yet, weather and fishing wise. Please drink responsibly..........." Never mind the buttocks boils if you feel like this gentleman looks.

Photo for Midger

I just thought that you would like seeing your RBF Turkey Callin Device alongside a jellyhead!

Great Straub Stories

Hi. My name is Agrontrutta. I’m a just a dumb farm kid from North Dakota and this is my Straub Story. I know this guy, calls himself the “Chief”, who fancies himself “soc un gran pescador”, whatever that means. Anyway, the Chief herds around this group of misfits call the RBF prostaff. One guy thinks he’s Ansel Adams and is always taking pictures of stuff. Another guy shoots poor defenseless bison (not buffalo, there are no buffalo in North America) like he’s Buffalo Bill Cody or something. And then there’s the prostaffer who freaks out at the sight of fuzz. I can’t even begin to describe the quirks, eccentricities, and neuroses of the rest of the staffers. But, I digress.

The Chief is always going on about this stuff called Straub. Like, he’ll say “we murdered ‘em on an RBF Bombay emerger and then we drank a case of Straubs.” Or, “Goose landed this ungodly rainbow on a gooseberry. Then we drank a case of Peter Straubs dark.” I mean, the guy can’t shut up about this Straubs stuff. So, finally, I’d had enough and last fall at the slate drake summit (a summit is like a fly fishing version of the burning man bacchanalia in the desert, except that we don’t have a burning man and we’re not in the desert and we keep our clothes on. Otherwise it’s exactly the same. Go ahead and laugh.) I tried Peter Straub’s Special Dark beer. Ungodly. It was so good I cried. It was so good I started scanning the bargain sheet for a team of American Mammoth Jackasses (or it is Jackii?) to buy. From now on it’s nothing but Peter Straub’s Special Dark for me. It’s my beer of choice for the Big Woods Summit. And that’s my Straub story.

Heaven on Earth

Where Am I?

An Ungodly Accomplishment

The Chief finally completed an ungodly accomplishment. Last fall, the Chief was outwitted by a huge gobbler on two separate occasions, practically in his own backyard. These events left the Chief sleepless for several nights thinking how a pea-sized brained bird could outwit such an expert turkey hunter. He vowed revenge.

On Monday, May 5th, The Chief trekked into the woods well before first light to where he figured his feathered foe would be roosted. Gobblers seem to like this particular spot. The Chief had killed several birds in this area. The plan was to remain silent and wait. If this particular gobbler knew that the Chief was in the area he would surely be on guard. The Chief wanted the edge.

It seemed like hours before the little birds began chirping on this chilly, frosty morning. It finally broke light and faint gobbles could be heard in the distance, but the woods were strangely silent around the Chief. Only “drink your tea’s” could be heard. He began to think that it was a foolish maneuver to trek into the woods without first locating a gobbling bird. Just then a bunch crows made a noisy fly-through. The Chief eased his head out from around the huge white oak to observe the racket. But something else got his attention. He could now see the massive black outline of a turkey perched on a limb of a huge sentinel white pine no more than 50 yards away. A beard hanging down, way down. He wondered if this was the same gobbler that outsmarted him in November. No time to wonder; the gobbler and the Chief were now engaged in staring contest. The Chief won as the bird became restless and flew down out of gun range and putted his way out of sight.

The Chief began to analyze his mistakes; failure to locate and failure to search the trees were predominant. His analytical mind then went to work. He first took a shot of pear brandy, then another. He took out his beloved Cody slate call and prepared it. Next, a double reed mouth call was readied. The plan was to relocate and become a couple of excited hens as there seemed to be no hens in the area. He walked back out the logging road that he came in on and noticed that the road was littered with gobbler turds. A strutting zone.

The Chief found a dandy red oak with a comfortable scooped out depression at its base. The oak provided a clear view down the logging road to where it made a sharp bend. The Chief had been up since 3:45 a.m. and he promptly fell asleep in this comfortable setup. The Chief was awakened by a thunderous gobble! He had slept for over an hour! After collecting his senses, the Chief began purring to the gobbler with the Cody. The gobbler was coming, coming right down that logging road. The Chief readied his Mossberg 835 loaded with 3 ½” hevi-shot and aimed it at the bend in the road. He finally had the edge; he only had to squeeze the trigger at the proper time.

The Mossberg slammed the Chief back into the red oak. After readjusting his hat and eye glasses, he could see the bird flapping helplessly in the leaves.

The Chief walked up to the dead bird, recognizing him, and said, “I told you that I would be back!” The Chief then went home and drank a Straub to celebrate.