Campfires and hotdogs

I got a bit of a late start this year, having not built a genuine campfire until just a week or so ago. While I must admit, it had nothing to do with camping and that it was far smaller than anything I'd call a bonfire, but it was perfect for that cool night as we settled back to enjoy our patio. I'm not sure what it is about nursing those embers that causes my mind to wander the way it always does. The hypnotically flickering flames and dancing shadows makes me feel like I'm sitting quietly with an old friend. Since this was somewhat of a planned event, at least about as planned as I seem to be these days, a supply of hotdogs, mustard, ketchup and marshmallows were ready for a late evening snack. As I roasted my first – or third (what overly-responsible person – or dog – counts fire-roasted hotdogs?) – I was trying to remember when I fired up my first frankfurter. For the life of me, I couldn't remember. That realization didn't cause me to worry that a few owls had flown out of my loft. In fact, the idea that I couldn't remember made me smile. The reason was so simple – there've been too many times that I've found myself dodging the smoke of a campfire while cooking a few skewered wieners, leaving me unable to pinpoint any particular "first dog." Rather than a loss of memory, it's evidence of a treasure trove of recollections and something I would provide as proof of a solid, early childhood. As I settled back to enjoy the fire with the always accompanying memories and the Cleveland baseball game playing in the background, I gave "my first fire-roasted hotdog" some more thought. It was still impossible to pin that moment down, but there were many that did come to mind. Once there was this small fire along a streambank with hotdogs that were somewhat rinsed off of fishing worm juices and dirt, then stuck onto freshly cut maple sticks. These were especially selected with Dad's help to ensure that they were forked, doubling the chance that two fidgety kids would keep the hotdogs from ending up in the coals of the fire. There was also the recollection of a gathering with fellow Cub Scouts as we listened wide-eyed to spooky stories while mustard stained our neckerchiefs. Then, yet another of a backyard camping trip with a tent made from a blanket. My brother and I cooked our own hotdogs on sticks cut from our yard's own sugar maple. Included were a can of baked beans and bacon simmered in an old army surplus mess kit. As I recall, that last one included dad sitting on the porch for most of the night, nursing his old briar pipe. Looking back, I'm not sure if he was keeping a watch for possible problems… or was just a bit envious. One special hotdog memory occurred after a day of "ice-sliding," something we excelled at since we lacked the equipment to call it ice skating. A fire was built right there on the ice while a paper sack was unpacked that was loaded with linked hotdogs, Orange Crush, a bag of Wise potato chips and a little bottle of ketchup, all bought from the old Akenhead's Market in my East Palestine hometown. Dad had forgotten to buy buns – but it just didn't matter. In fact, those hotdogs may have been the best ever. I can still hear the happy panting as our little English cocker, Cricket, eagerly grinned her tongue-lapping approval as she shared bites with the each of us. So, there you have it. I just can't remember my first campfire roasted hotdog regardless of how hard I've tried. If I were to venture a guess, I probably had my first taste long before that fertile soil called "memory" had yet begun to fully sprout its harvestable crop. That very thought makes me happy. I've heard people say that if you knew how hotdogs were made, you wouldn't eat them. Maybe for some that's true, but I discovered the one secret ingredient of every campfire roasted hotdog I've ever eaten – each contains just a bit of magic. They can conjure images and memories better than any fortuneteller's crystal ball and can spawn stories that can bring both laughter or a tear. I hope you can't remember your first wiener roast, either – but even if you don't, I'll bet somebody else recalls your ketchup-stained chin – and I'll bet that makes them smile. "If you see a campfire as just a fire, your imagination is very weak, because it is not a lifeless warmth, but a mysterious friend who came to visit you in the darkness… and shared your food, dreams and life!" – Mehmet Murat Ildan Along the Way ODNR's Division of Wildlife invites you to share your admiration and passion for wildlife by entering their Poets for Wildlife Contest. Your entry must be received by May 31, 2026. The rules for the competition are: • Poems must reference native Ohio wildlife (native mammal, bird, amphibian, reptile, invertebrate, arachnid, or fish) in some way. Poems should be family-friendly.• One poem per author may be submitted.• The poem must be the author's original work and cannot have been previously published in print and/or online.• Poems created by generative AI programs will not be accepted.• The maximum length per poem is 16 lines. Entries with more than 16 lines will not be reviewed.• Format poems in 12-point Calibri, Arial, or Times New Roman font.• Poems can be written in English or Spanish.• The title of the poem should appear in the upper right-hand corner of the page. If the poem has no title, write "No Title," and it will identify it by its first line.• Poems may not be edited or resubmitted.• There are also categories to enter your art or photo in the competitions. For complete details, visit www.wildohio.gov. Questions can be answered by emailing wildlife.writingcontest@dnr.ohio.gov. Step Outside ODNR's Division of Wildlife invites you to share your admiration and passion for wildlife by entering their Poets for Wildlife Contest. • The Division of Forestry has reopened both horseback riding trails and all-purpose vehicle areas at Pike, Richland Furnace, and Perry state forests. The trails had been closed for the winter season. The bridle trails will remain open until late November, and state forest APV areas will remain open until early December when they will be closed again for the winter season. • The "Biggest Week in American Birding" is built around peak spring migration along the south shore of Lake Erie, with Magee Marsh Wildlife Area as the headline act. The festival runs May 8–17, 2026 (with registration dates posted in advance), and it's hosted by the Black Swamp Bird Observatory; www.bsbo.org. • Tomorrow: Primitive Blackpowder Muzzle Loader Shoot, round ball only, 1 p.m. Black Swamp Muzzle Loaders Club, 8831 Township Rd. 19, McComb. Email: roadkill4u@hotmail.com • Tomorrow: Trap Shoot, 1 p.m. Mount Blanchard Gun Club, 21655 Delaware Township 186. • Thursday: Trap and Skeet Practice, open to the public. 4 p.m. – 7 p.m. UCOA, 6943 Marion Township 243, Findlay. • Thursday: HCCL (Hancock County Conservation League) 13748 Township Road 168, Findlay, 4:30 p.m. Steel challenge centerfire pistol event. All non-members or guests must be accompanied by a member and will be charged $5 to attend. For details: crowegirls1@gmail.com • May 12: HCCL (Hancock County Conservation League) will be having steel challenge rimfire rifle event. There is no cost to attend events for HCCL members. All non-members or guests must be accompanied by a member and will be charged $5 to attend. Upcoming events also include: May 21: spring turkey shoot. For details: crowegirls1@gmail.com • May 23: 3-D Archery Match, mixed animal targets. Field and Stream Bowhunters; 11400 Allen Township 109, Findlay. Registration opens at 8 a.m. Contact: John Fenimore at 419-957-8764. Abrams is a retired wildlife officer supervisor for the state Division of Wildlife in Findlay. He can be reached at P.O. Box 413, Mount Blanchard, OH 45867-0413 or via e-mail at jimsfieldnotes@aol.com.