by John Carlisle, Detroit Free Press

ONAWAY – The sun sank behind the pines. The air began to cool. It was time to light a campfire.

Dale Kennicott grabbed a propane torch, laid the tip against a pile of sticks in the fire pit, pulled the trigger and suddenly had an instant fire. “Why mess around?” he said with a laugh.

It was early May. Behind him was the Black River, whose rushing water was stained brown by the tannins from the trees. This is where sturgeon from a nearby lake were swimming. It’s also where poachers try to snag them illegally.

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