Category: Hunting

Bear Baiting Season Begins!

I swear, every year I get more and more excited about bear hunting.

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Bear baiting begins one month before we actually get to hunt. I swear, every year I get more and more excited about bear hunting. I haven’t been able to actually get a bear, but none the less, I enjoy every minute of the process, and the experience in the stand waiting for a big boar to show up.

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Last year’s bear site

This year, we moved our bait sites and eliminated one of them. It was too stressful to decide where to sit when all three sites were getting hit, and it seemed like the third bait only made the bear come less to the sites we wanted them at. With increasingly more human traffic on the mountain, we decided we needed to head deeper into the woods. I had only had my other bait site for two seasons, but moving it in deeper will mean a better chance of seeing bear during daylight hours. This year’s bait sits on top of a mountain in a beech tree growth. Claw marks from where they’ve climbed on the trees are everywhere, so I’m extra excited. I’ve already had moose and deer using my trail so I look forward to a wildlife filled hunt.

 

Black bears are naturally nocturnal, so to get a bear to come out during the daytime, it has to be very comfortable with its surroundings. In order to eliminate the interruptions we usually create by baiting during the week in the late afternoon, we’ve left enough bait in the barrel so that whomever decides to visit, will have some bait to come back to, and we’re only checking baits on Saturday mornings for now. That may change if the bears don’t come around. I also have an ace up my sleeve if the season drags on and no bear come during daylight hours…but I’ll keep that to myself for now.

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This year’s site all baited.

My new site is a good quarter-mile into the woods, so we use the four-wheeler to bring in the bait. This year, we bought one barrel of bait to supplement what we had left from last year, but for now it’s lots of yummy cinnamon, frosted danish and muffins from last year. Along with sticky marshmallow nougat, and grease in smaller pails, the bait is left in a big blue barrel. We also put out a wick of anise oil that smells like strong black licorice for those of you who have never smelled it. Bears have incredible sense of smell so the scent acts as an attractant to get them coming to the bait site, and the bait hopefully keeps them coming back. Hopefully, but no guarantees.

 

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My secret weapon for 2016

 

Speaking of sense of smell; last year, I worried I was too open and that my scent let the bear know when I was there. The wind was constantly changing. So this year, at the 2016 Sportsman’s Show in Augusta, I found and bought the hanging tree blind I had regretted not buying the year before. This blind will provide me with extra scent protection, and now the bear won’t be able to tell if I’m in the tree or not since I won’t be seen in the blind, and I won’t be rained on! My tree stand is situated so that my back is to sun, so in theory, the bear will squint from the sun if it looks my way. A strategic move on my part, I hope!

 

 

Let’s hope I don’t have the sow and three cubs like last year.  As much as I enjoy seeing cubs and a sow, I don’t want to meet them in the woods, and I would never shoot any of them. I really am hoping my big old boar, Scrapper, comes around… or another big boar would do too.

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Last year’s sow and cubs making their rounds to all of our bait sites.
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Scrapper my night bear.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’ll be keeping you up-to-date with happenings on the bait site and as I hunt. I hope I have exciting stories to write about…and eventually bear meat in the stew pot! Wish me luck!

Being the Image of a Woman Hunter

Hunting has empowered me to do things I never imagined I could do, and that’s the image I want every woman and girl to identify with.

staciwarren5 Comments
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My buck (c) S. Warren

Life is full of ups and downs. I recently got turned down to be a team member of an organization for women who hunt. I realized after I applied that I probably wouldn’t be chosen, not because I wasn’t qualified, but because I didn’t fit “the image”they were seeking. Just looking at their website, I knew I didn’t fit. I felt like I was back in high school waiting for approval from the popular girls.

It’s kind of funny since I’ve never been a clique sort of girl. In fact, as a young girl, I avoided them.  I never hung with the “in” crowd in high school and pretty much kept to myself. It was much easier to do my own thing than face any type of rejection because I didn’t measure up in some way to standards set by someone else.

Those standards of beauty and perfection haunted me all my teen years, but over the years I’ve learned to be comfortable with who I am, but I will admit I still have my insecurities that try to whisper in my ear from time to time. I pride myself on the fact that I’m not like everyone else, and I think that’s one of the reasons hunting and fishing is so attractive to me. I can be me, and I can be good at what I do…and it doesn’t get any better than that.20160604_095711-1

In a time when women and girls are the fastest growing demographic and are becoming the “new face” of hunting, I’ve also discovered that the hunting industry as a whole is guilty of setting the same type standards for women and girl hunters that we see in fashion magazines where our worth is our youth and beauty. We aren’t seeing the real images of  women hunters as a whole, but a merely a slice of the pie. Most notably, we aren’t seeing women hunters over the age of 35. It’s as if they don’t exist, unless you know where to look for them.  After some help from friends, I found a few for inspiration: Michelle Bodenheimer, Barbara Baird, Mia Anstine, and Kirstie Pike. There are plenty of women who were hunting and fishing long before Eva Shockey arrived, and for all you know, they could very well be your neighbor, your co-worker, or your banker.

photo: Sportsman Channel
photo: Outdoor Channel
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Still has on mascara and is young woman. photo by RealTree

With media constantly setting the standards of beauty and bombarding girls and women on a constant basis to be perfect, one of the main themes women hunters should be emphasizing is to encourage women and girls to become empowered and stand up to these pressures. On one hand we’re telling girls it’s cool they don’t wear bows, but instead shoot them, while on another hand, we’re subliminally telling them that they should look like a model. I don’t want these persistent images to dissuade women and girls from hunting because they won’t fit “the image” portrayed in magazines, television, online, or by a group.

photo from Pinterest
photo from Pinterest

I like to think that I represent women who hunt–real women, or at least older women. I am no Eva Shockey. I’m not twenty-something years old with a skinny body and long flowing hair. I am 52 years old, fighting the battle of the bulge, and I don’t wear makeup when I hunt…ever. BUT I can hunt and fish. I’m an avid hunter and fisherman, not a professional. This means, I don’t always get a deer, and most often not a trophy deer. My fish are average, not trophies. And I know there are many, many more women out there just like me. They’re just out in the woods and water doing their thing.

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Hunting has empowered me to do things I never imagined I could do, and that’s the image I want every woman and girl to identify with. I want women of all ages to step out of their comfort zones and be recognized for their skills, and not be judged on beauty standards set by others. This hunting and fishing thing isn’t for just a select group of women.

If you have the desire to learn to fish or hunt, then it’s time to put aside any insecurities and just do your thing.

Whether you’re ten or thirty or fifty years old, you’re never too old to start. You don’t have to be perfect, you just have to be passionate and want it.

If you need camaraderie, then find women who are like you by taking a hunting safety class, joining a local sportsman’s club, or using social media (that’s how I’ve found a lot of my new friends).  Don’t forget to ask sisters, daughters, nieces and friends to join you. Finding others with the same interests will help you build the confidence to do your thing.

Meanwhile, I’ll be out doing my thing and not stressing about whether or not I fit in.
I hope you’ll join me.

TBT-My First Moose Hunt – Final

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I Get My Moose!

We had found our way to the Sheepscot Wellspring Land Alliance, now called the Midcoast Conservancy. I called to let them know I was hunting there, which was a request in the brochure.

I took a Friday off so we could hunt two days this week. I was able to find, using the map, that we could access the bog through various trails. This would cut down on the mountain climbing and possibly may save us some time so there would be less time walking, more time hunting.

Friday: One way to enter was by using the gas pipeline access. Our trusty Gazeteer came in handy to find the trails we needed. We planned to use our four wheeler to drive the trail once we found access. We met some really nice people who offered us park in their yard so we’d have access to the pipeline trail. We used our GPS in walk mode to mark where we parked the ATV and to find our way out. While the walking was easier, the distance was longer. We hiked through trails for miles.

map

 

On our way in, I seemed to be watching more where I stepped than in front of me since all I could see was John’s back. Our first encounter with wildlife was as we were approaching the softwood area. There we jumped the biggest, grayest buck we had ever seen. I only got a glimpse of his hind end, and neither of us could get a shot. That deer was on a gallop too far away for any chance. We eventually found our way back to the beaver bog. The day ended pretty quiet. We made our way back to the four wheeler and left that day exhausted.

Saturday arrived with aching legs, but a sense that we were getting the feel for the land and thinking that perhaps we’d see a moose. A breakfast of coffee and Tylenol and I was ready.

This time we used yet another trail to get to our main access point (8). The hike up the side hill was pretty challenging without having sore legs from the day before. Almost to our access spot, John abruptly stopped. He’s whispering…deer, deer, deer. I don’t see a deer. When I finally saw it, it was a high racked six point buck that was just staring at us about 60 yards away. John wanted me to use his shoulder as support to make the shot. I became flustered because I didn’t want to blow his ears out, and about that time, the deer took off. I tried to make the shot as it ran, and I missed. So we went back to moose hunting.

I had discovered on the map that we could cross the Sheepscot River (which is really like a wide brook) further up from the beaver dam that we had been crossing by jumping from boulder to boulder. This way we didn’t have to deal with the wet zone, beaver dam or get wet crossing the water. By crossing the river higher, it also put us in the ideal spot for moose.

Around 1 pm we walked into the thickest wall of pine and fir I had ever been in. I would have easily gotten lost had John not been leading the way. Everything looked the same until we came into a clearing. There, in front of us, was fresh moose droppings and browsed fir tips. We found their hideout. As we walked, I spotted the moose, two moose-one bull and one cow. I stopped and pointed and told John, and said, “There they are.” He asked if I wanted to use his gun. No, I said. I drew my gun to shoot. I had the bull in my sights. Then I began to overthink. The moose were quietly bedded down in a willow growth. Willows blocked me from getting a clean shot. Do I shoot? In the time I took to question myself, which was only a matter of seconds, the moose realized we were standing there, jumped up and bolted. Mr. Bull was gone in a flash crashing off through the woods, but the cow made a much smaller circle and ran directly broadside toward us over a knoll. We each shot at the same time and the cow was down. It was now 2 pm. It would be dark in about two hours.

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Now the real work began. There was no way we could get the moose out of this area because four-wheelers aren’t permitted on the trails, so we had to pack it out. John began field dressing the moose as I made a trip out of the woods and back to the truck to bring the guns out, call my son for help to pack out the moose, and call the game warden to find out if I really was required to bring out a reproductive part of the moose since I was allowed to shoot either a bull or cow. Yes, was the answer…seriously. So off came the teats since I had no idea where to retrieve an ovary.

I took on the task of lugging out the tenderloin in my back pack. It weighed so much and I was so tired from all the walking that it didn’t take much before I was flat on my face. I caught my pant leg on a stick and down I went. I literally had to walk leaning forward to offset the weight so I could climb the hill. My second trip out was made in the dark by flashlight. The guys used backpack frames to lug out the front and hind quarters that they had packed in meat bags. They too had to make two trips.

John with hind quarter
Zack with front quarter

We loaded up the truck, feeling exhausted but excited at the same time that we were able to harvest a moose for our family. We tagged the moose at the now closed station where I also tagged my first turkey.

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My moose hunt was far more physically challenging than I ever imagined. I didn’t know what the outcome would be, but I’m glad we didn’t give up. It wasn’t the perfect hunt, but it wasn’t the worst. I had missed a nice deer, but if I had gotten that deer, I wouldn’t have had time to hunt for moose, so I guess I’m glad I missed it…sorta…We ended up getting one of only two moose harvested out of the permits allotted in zone 23, and for that, I am extra proud. Best of all, my family got to eat some amazing meat for the next year.

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I will always regret my hesitation, and wish that I could have gotten the bull moose that had a beautiful rack on it; however, I feel I am the luckiest girl to be able say I have a chance to do it all over again only this time with much better odds.

Wish me luck in September!

TBT-My First Moose Hunt-Wk 2

I kept saying over and over in in my mind: Don’t give up! when all I wanted to do was sit down.

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We Climb Down a Mountain

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Beaver dam photo by SWLA.org

By mid-morning we were a bit discouraged. We stopped into the local store for coffee and snacks and ran into an old friend of John’s dad. After some conversation, we told him we were moose hunting. The gentleman knew “exactly where to go to get a moose” and told us where we needed to look. He and his grandson hunt this area for deer, and they often see moose. We were excited again. We thanked him and headed out for what we thought was a climb down a small hill to a bog.

It had recently snowed but then half melted away, which made walking more difficult. The temps had warmed, but it still wasn’t overly warm…unless you’re hiking a few miles. We parked the truck and headed out to scout for moose. There was a small trail at the top of the mountain, but we cut off from the trail and headed straight down over the mountain. We managed to jump two nice doe on our way down. This “small hill” ended up being a monstrosity. It was about a mile and a half downhill before we ever came to the bottom of the hill. There we hit another walking trail but continued straight on through in hopes we’d reach the bog.

Walking downhill was awkward for my ailing knees. On top of that, I was completely over dressed. I had on my big L.L. Bean boots with wool socks, my green Johnson woolen overalls, heat gear turtleneck, hunting jacket and orange hunting vest…and I was carrying my rifle. I was drenched with sweat before we got to the bottom of the mountain.

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Beaver dam photo by SWLAmaine.org

We crossed a small stream, then a few hundred yards later, we hit a flooded area and then a beaver dam. I prayed the water wouldn’t go over the top of my boots. We managed to get to the beaver dam. We then shuffled our way across the edge of the dam, holding onto the tips of branches. Somehow we managed not to fall in. Once on the other side, we heard some crashing and immediately noticed we had jumped two moose.

 

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Young moose photo by SWLAmaine.org

I was in a dilemma. I had made it clear that I would absolutely not shoot a moose with a calf no matter how old. This appeared to be a cow and calf, or two cows; we weren’t sure. We decided we might be lucky enough to spot a bull so we decided to track them. We tracked through the bog, twisting, winding, slopping our way through a maze of woods and moss from which I didn’t think we’d ever find our way out. We tracked the moose for almost three hours. Good thing John has “iron boogers” to get us out. We never caught up the the two moose, and as dark closed in on us, we finally gave up and headed back.

By the time we got back to the beaver dam, I was exhausted. I was thirsty beyond thirsty. We hadn’t brought one ounce of water with us. Our short trip turned out to be the whole afternoon. I shimmied my way across the beaver dam and through the wet land. As we came upon the bottom trail we had initially seen, I spotted a brook with crystal clear cold water. Against protests from John, I laid down and took a good healthy swig of spring water. I didn’t know where we were and at the time, I didn’t care. It wasn’t connected to the beaver dam and it tasted lovely. By this time John had thought I had gone insane. Perhaps I had. You probably shouldn’t do that.

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Sheepscot River tasty water                           photo by SWLA.org

I tried to convince John to take the unknown-destination path which looked much more an appealing walk than the mountain he wanted me to climb, but with darkness upon us, the last thing we wanted to do was be lost in the woods. So we hiked back up the mountain, the tall freaking steep mountain. As we began the hike up the mountain, I began peeling off my jacket and hat. I was so hot I could barely stand it. My feet hurt from sliding inside my big boots.  My knees really hurt. I was thirsty still. I was sweating. I ended up eating snow as I climbed the mountain. It was absolutely the suckiest moment of hunting I’ve ever experienced. I kept saying over and over in in my mind: Don’t give up! when all I wanted to do was sit down. Luckily my asthma didn’t make the climb worse, but none the less, I was bummed that I hadn’t better prepared for all the walking I had to do and for the physically intensive challenge I had faced.

We finally made it out of the woods by nightfall about half a mile from our truck. I declared I couldn’t take another step. As I sat on a stump feeling defeated and waiting for John to come pick me up with the truck, I found out where we were thanks to a sign and a nifty brochure. We were at the Sheepscot Wellspring Land Alliance (SWLA.org) now called the Midcoast Conservancy, and we had climbed Whitten Mountain. It turns out all those trails do lead to somewhere, and I was going to do some research for the next weekend of hunting. I was going to be more prepared. AND I was never going into the woods without water again.

Next week: I Get My Moose!

 

 

TBT: My First Moose Hunt-Wk 1

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photo by canoemaine.wordpress.com

In Maine, there is a moose hunt. It began back in 1980 and despite being challenged by anti-hunters, the hunt has continued and is probably the most highly sought after lottery drawn hunting permit in Maine.

As luck would have it, I scored a bull moose permit for northern Maine’s zone 5 in September for this year. Never in a million years would I have expected to get a permit since I had just gotten one in 2011. I am extremely grateful for my chance at a trophy moose that will not only feed my family but will be an exciting adventure with the entire family. This luck of the draw has me reminiscing the good and the bad about my 2011 moose hunt.

My husband, John has always applied for a permit in hopes of getting one in a northern zone overrun with moose. Admittedly, I originally applied to increase our chances; I wasn’t a hunter then. After 2002, not only did I apply each year, but with full intentions that I would be the shooter if I was ever drawn.

The lottery has been under a lot of scrutiny over the years. After getting too many complaints to ignore, the Inland Fisheries and Wildlife made some major changes to the system. One change in particular was that for each year you had put in, you not only had a bonus point, but also from then on, those with more bonus points would have better odds at being picked. They also lengthened the time span between being eligible for a permit from two to three years. With a level playing field and the hopes that we’d finally get picked, the idea of getting a moose permit seemed more in reach.

We both had applied so long that we fell into the “I’ll take anything if my choices weren’t available.” In reality, that really didn’t mean I wanted or expected to get a moose permit in November in the zone with one of the worst success rates in the entire state of Maine. When I applied for the lottery, my zone choices began with the obvious northern ones and worked their way down the map to my home zone with my last choice being the zone next to ours. But really how could I lose with all those choices listed first? A word of advice: if you really don’t want that zone or date, don’t write it down.

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My 2011 Moose Permit. Note the date error!

In 2011, the day of the moose drawing, my phone started ringing off the hook. I got a moose permit! I was ecstatic with the news! John was my sub-permittee. I repeatedly teased him that I got a moose permit before him. I’d send him text. “I got a moose permit.” or I’d say, “Guess what?” and follow through with “I got a moose permit.” He was a great sport, and I just tried my best to make sure we were prepared to make it the best hunt we could.

It didn’t take long before anxiety soon set in when I realized it was a November hunt for a bull or cow in Zone 23. In a preparation of the season, I had to do my homework. Zone 23 had the least success rate of any zone. It was disappointing to not get a “good” zone but with only 20 permits, there would also be less competition. The good news is that Zone 23 is known for its deer herd, and I could shoot any moose. The bad news is that everyone would want their areas for their own deer hunting, and calling in a moose wasn’t really going to work in November. I had no idea what lay before us, but I knew it wasn’t going to be an easy task. no hunt sign

I even paid the fee and entered the official moose swap website. I couldn’t even get people who live in 23 who had a permit for my home zone of 16 to swap with me. It was a waste of money and soon reality set in. If I wanted to get a moose, we were going to have to work for it. We didn’t want to rely on a Maine guide. John has been my guide all along. We’ve self-guided all of our hunts, and we didn’t want it any other way.

We talked to everyone and anyone who would give us leads. We used our beloved Maine Gazeteer filled with detailed maps to find boggy areas and on several occasions, we spoke with landowners and biologists. We would follow every lead and a few times this led us to nothing but waste time because there were so many deer hunters that it felt impossible that’s we’d see a moose.

We finally got permission to hunt on a farm that had been gated in Albion. The only person who had a key to the gate was the friend of the landowner, so we’d have to track down this guy down to make sure we could have access. The first day he was sitting on a wood pile, smoking a cigarette and had a rifle across his lap. He was deer hunting…I guess….He was all good to our face, then promptly tried to shut us out the next day. We went back to the landowner and asked him to call the guy…he did. We were all set. We showed up the following day and the gate was open, so we drove in. We hunted the entire day hiking over hills, brooks and clearcuts. On the way out, we found our selves locked IN.  Luckily, John knew the road came out into another field so after four-wheeling our pickup through some pretty tough terrain, we made it out. Despite having landowner permission and lots of moose signs, we didn’t go back. This moose hunt wasn’t supposed to be about hassles with landowners’ buddies.

Next: Week 2: We Climb Down a Mountain

 

 

Scouting for Black Bear

Being out on our adventures, nothing gets me more excited than finding bear sign.

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Bear printsBear season is one of my favorite times of year. I have yet to actually harvest a bear but this makes four years that I will have put in my time for the chance to get a Maine black bear.

There is considerable preparation that goes into doing a self guided bear hunt. We don’t rely on anyone other than ourselves and the generosity of landowners. We haul all our own bait, set all our stands, and monitor our game cameras before and during the season.

Being out on our adventures, nothing gets me more excited than finding bear sign. It’s been a dry spring so the berries aren’t out yet and bears are relying on insects, grass and whatever game they can find. A dead beaver is claimed to be bear cocaine, but I haven’t witnessed this to be true despite putting out dead beaver at the beginning of the season. Our latest adventures brought us bear sign and mushrooms.

We have learned a lot about bear behavior. It’s one thing to see where they’ve eaten, find their scat and to see the claw marks they leave in the tress. It’s another to see bears in action, especially during the June mating season.

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Rock flipped over looking for bugs
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Bears tore open this old tree while looking for food.

Boars in particular break over branches to mark their territory. They also bite trees while standing on their hind legs to discourage other male bears from coming around. This gives you a real sense of how tall the bear is that you’re trying to hunt.

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Claw marks on the tree
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Tree broken over
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Right beneath the broken tree…bear scat. Wish I could bear hunt here!!

My new ladder stand is now situated on a mountain with many beech trees deeper into the woods than ever before. Let’s hope the bears come back to put some more claw marks in the trees. I can’t wait to start the bait season to see who’s still in the area. I’m really hoping that Scrapper will be back so I can have a second chance at this amazing old bear. The next time you’re out in the woods, take an extra look around. You might be surprised what’s right in front of you!

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Claw marks on the beech tree. Hoping for a bumper crop this year.
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“Scrapper” my night bear.

 

 

Florida Adventures for a Maine Girl – Part II

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Air Boat Ride in the Swamp!

In Maine we truly have it lucky. There aren’t many spots where a person can take a dip in the water and not worry about encountering some animal that wants you for lunch. I spent my entire childhood swimming in everything but a pool or the ocean. Worst case scenario a snapping turtle or water snake encounter occurred; both are certainly enough for me to get out of the water, but I know I’m not at risk of dying.

IMG_20160425_094428498On the other hand, Florida’s hot weather makes one want to jump in the water, but unless it’s a pool or the ocean, you’d be crazy to do so. As a matter of fact it would be a cold day in you-know-where before this girl ever ventured out into the swamp with anything smaller than an 18 foot motorized boat, let alone put my toes in it!

Before we ever got in the boat, the captain let anyone who wanted to, hold a gator. I was surprised how smooth its skin is; not rough at all, but very luxurious. I can see why their hides are so highly sought after. This gator looks small but its actually three years old. They grow fast for the first four years, then grow slowly thereafter. So a six foot gator is approximately 20 years old!

Our Florida trip included an air boat ride into the swamps of Florida. Imagine seeing all these nice homes along the shoreline of Lake Panasoffkee, yet no wharves, no boats and no one swimming. In fact, at best the the lake is only four feet deep, heavy with peat and is described as a flood plain that’s spring fed. The only way you can navigate the lake is with an air boat. The nice thing about an air boat is that it glided over everything and didn’t disturb vegetation or wildlife but let us get really really close.

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Just as we have in Maine, we followed a stream to navigate our way to the lake. On the way through, we saw several alligators and birds. Our guide said that it wasn’t a great day to see snakes but they see them often. I was okay with not seeing any snakes.

Doc1-ANIMATIONThe air boat was actually pretty tame. It wasn’t as loud as we expected because our captain didn’t try to take us on too much of a thrill ride. I didn’t want to miss  any wildlife so slow was good. He’d open it up do swerve then slow down so that we wouldn’t get wet.

One of the waterways we took came to a dead end. Our captain threw out a handful of pelleted dog food. The water bubbled with fish! This spot was the location of the natural spring and with a spring comes lots of food and oxygen for fish, so the fish hang out here. I wish he had offered us to go fishing too!

IMG_20160425_104600434Our ride ended with our captain showing us a honeybee tree. The bees were actively making honey in the old tree. If you get the chance to go ANYWHERE, I highly recommend that you stop and really get to see how people live and experience the culture. Now I can say I know what an alligator swamp looks like, and I know for sure I never want to live near one!

Next week: Part III – Alligators in my backyard!

Florida Adventures for a Maine Girl- Part I

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In case you don’t know me, I love to travel. I’m not well traveled, so even a trip that is routine for some is an adventure for me and my family. This year, we decided to go back to Florida for one more adventure. We were thinking this would be our last time there since we have a long bucket list. Our trips in the past have covered Disney, Universal Studios, and Sea World, but we had never been to Busch Gardens. So in the name of roller coasters, animals and white sandy beaches, Tampa it was.

However, this year, we wanted to expand our adventures to more than theme parks and water parks. I surprised John with a Florida hog hunt for his birthday. All the plans were made. I really wanted to go, but they charge a lot and even for a spectator, the price is almost the same. Then you have to add in butchering, taxidermy and shipping the meat home, it’s just not worth all that money…so Tyler and I planned an afternoon of our own adventure to keep busy while John hunted. We dropped John off in the middle of no where with his guide. We set our point on the GPS to find him later and then we headed to the Shell Factory in Fort Meyers. They had amazing display of taxidermy. If you’ve ever been to Cabela’s, then picture Cabela’s on steroids. Most were African animals but there were also some animals from North America. Many of the animals can no longer be hunted today.

The hunt gave John a chance to see what the Florida forests look like. We actually saw a place that wasn’t swamp but instead very sandy! The density of the forest is a lot like Maine only with different species of trees and plants. We saw lots of birds and Old Man’s Beard hanging from all the trees. I spotted a deer from the highway. No hogs. Yes, that’s a feeder and when it went off, John thought the hogs would come running. They didn’t. We did meet another woman hunter who, along with her husband, bagged an alligator that morning and was also sitting for a hog the same night as John. They didn’t get a hog either. Guess we’ll be going back to Florida, the company honored it’s pledge for a guaranteed hunt and gave John a certificate good for 5 years to try again.528_2

We took some time to talk with our guide and his helper. It’s pretty incredible to see them get all excited over what we hunt compared to what they hunt. We stood around sharing photos from our phone cameras of moose and deer hunts, turkey hunts, beaver trapping, and of course, fishing. Eventually the mosquitoes had the final say, and I retreated to the car. As we said our goodbyes, I spotted an armadillo running across the lawn. It was too dark to get a good photo. (Honestly, Tyler just an hour before, told me they carry Leprosy so I wasn’t about to go try to catch it.)

The following morning was our official last day of fun. As we left the hotel and headed to the car, we heard noises in the woods off to our right. I spied a cat spying something in the woods. Tyler spotted them first. I couldn’t believe it…there in the woods were about six baby hogs…I don’t know where Mom was, nor did I want to know! Pretty amazing no hogs showed up where they were supposed to be but then show up at our hotel! A little salt in the wound for John, but we had a good laugh afterward.

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Pigs in the underbrush…they’re there, but hard to see. (c) SWarren

Next week: Part II –  Air Boat Ride!

Memories of A Youth Day Turkey Hunt

“If I Could Turn Back Time” still sings through my head when I think of this hunt.

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One of the most full-filling times of turkey hunting is when you see your children get the chance to experience what you get to do. Describing a turkey hunting story can give the listener a play by play, but in reality there is nothing like being there hearing a gobble, smelling the spring air, and the feeling the excitement of the turkey approaching your decoy.

MomZackturkeyhuntcroppedMy son Zack and I hunted turkey together, but he was already a teenager and back then they didn’t have a youth day. We had a few successful hunts that went pretty much according to “the plan” we made. I’m sure many of you have seen this photo on my Facebook page. It’s one of my favorites and one of those hunts I’ll never forget, not because of the birds we got, but the whole experience brings a smile to my face whenever we talk about it.

By the time my youngest son was old enough to hunt, there was a spring turkey youth day established, and there was nothing more exciting than planning a day of turkey hunting. I think I was actually more excited than he or John was. John and I bought Tyler all the camouflage and equipment necessary. We scouted. We practiced. We coached. If all went according to “the plan”, then he would be successful. In my mind, we would be successful as parents~Tyler would be hooked on hunting after this hunt. 

“If I Could Turn Back Time” still sings through my head when I think of this hunt.

Tyler is not particularly a morning person, i.e. he doesn’t like to get up in the morning, especially early, early mornings to hunt or fish. By the time we headed out to the spot in Norridgewock, we were running late, to which I duly noted several times on our way to the spot. The sun was already rising, so we’d have to hurry. On our hike into the field, we had to cross an old stream that was frankly raging from the spring rains. Not only was it about shin deep, it was moving fast from right to left. I was carrying my little flip cell phone in my left hunting pants pocket along with a real camera. Unlike today’s phone, in those days, my camera had more megapixels than my phone camera so my pockets were full. I also was carrying my shotgun on my left shoulder as I usually do.

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Tyler and John heading out. The only picture I got that day…

As we made our way down the road, we approached the stream. It was a lot harder crossing at barely daylight than in the middle of a sunny day. I was doing well trying to cross. The water was rushing fast and just about the time I reached the other side and reached for John’s hand, I stepped on a slippery rock and down I went. Oh yes, I forgot to mention the rocks were slick. In a second, I was underwater. My right hand caught my fall; however the entire right side of my body was soaking cold and dripping wet. I said a few curse words about the time John pulled me out of the water. Mood ruined and I was fully aware how cold spring water can be. John was irritated. Tyler was upset, and I was mad at myself for falling, but in no way was I about to let this ruin our time. So off we went to find us some turkeys.

We crossed into two fields, got set up and began calling. John was a short distance away and I took up position right behind Tyler. I wanted to coach him as the turkeys came over over the knoll…as it turns out so did his dad. John was calling. Turkeys were gobbling. Soon two jakes came up over the knoll and headed right for Tyler’s decoy. Tyler was using his Rossi 20 guage convertible gun. I didn’t think it had that much shooting distance so I was telling him to “Wait”, “Wait”, “Wait”…until they were closer. Meanwhile, John was whispering, “Shoot”, “Shoot”, “Shoot it!”….Well, the turkeys heard us too, and Tyler was so confused by everything, that when he finally shot, he shot right over their heads. Birds flew. Feathers flew, but no  birds were down. Tyler had missed them entirely. Now who’s to say whether or not he would have missed even if we weren’t both instructing him, but it didn’t matter right then.

Now you can only imagine his disappointment. He was pretty upset with both of us. We learned our lesson that day. We should have just let him do it, and have only one person be the guide. We had put too much pressure on this kid without even realizing it. We should have spent more time enjoying the experience instead of concentrating on a successful outcome. Tyler’s not really interested in hunting turkeys, or at least not like I had hoped. I will always wonder if this type of hunting experience hadn’t happened if things would be different. Perhaps he’d want to hunt more with us…perhaps not. I’ll never know.

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So when you head out to take a kid hunting, don’t do what we did. Don’t put so much pressure on his or her being successful so that if things don’t go according to “the plan”, the world won’t stop. Take the time to enjoy the experience and the time you get to spend together. Regardless of the outcome, your son or daughter will remember these special times more than the one time they got a turkey.

P.S. As luck would have it, my cell phone, camera and gun escaped the water that day and several ticks were removed from our clothes, and Tyler has since forgiven us.

TBT: Turkey Hunting 2003- John’s Turn

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In 2002, I scored the first turkey I had ever hunted. So when John got a permit in 2003, to say John was excited that he had a chance to hunt turkey for the first time, was an understatement. If you remember, my turkey hunt went off just like text book schooling. We did X,Y, Z, and the bird did A, B and C. In a matter of minutes I had my bird. We made a plan, and we stuck to it. From turkey school, that was one of the main things they told us. Me being a creature of habit, I was ready to make a plan.

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A tom posing for my game camera

The morning of John’s first turkey hunt brought us to a new farm in Albion. This farm sits on top of a big hill and has big green fields. The view is absolutely spectacular especially at sunrise. This particular farm has a lovely little pond that we had to tip toe by so the frogs wouldn’t stop peeping. We parked our truck making sure not to slam the doors and gathered all of our turkey gear. We headed across the fields and made our way to the line of trees between two fields. On the way across the field, we were greeted by a small porcupine that wanted to follow us. The field was deceivingly rough and walking wasn’t that easy, but finally we made it and got set up without the porcupine keeping us company. The previous day we had set up a nice blind where we could see in both directions into the fields. One field had round bales of hay and there had been a fox den in one of them, so I was hoping we’d see some fox to go with the turkeys.

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The berm that we hid in. (c) S. Warren

We were sitting two-thirds the way up the hill as turkeys prefer to go up the hill when being called. We had seen birds the day before dusting at the bottom of the hill near a giant berm created by trees and brush being bulldozed when they cleared the field. On the far side of the berm was a tangled mess of thorns, bushes and washouts, so I wasn’t too interested in going that way in search of birds.IMG_20160314_202709239

The morning was remarkably quiet despite seeing distance lights traveling the roads. Eventually we watched the sky turn light and could hear turkeys begin to gobble far off. Just as daylight began to appear, we started our fly down and cackling. Nothing seemed to happen. No birds. No gobbles. When we were about to give up and were considering trying somewhere else, we spied a lone hen at the bottom of the field near the berm. John continued to call and the hen continued to make her way towards us. We really hoped this would roust a tom to come defend his hen, but nothing came. The hen eventually walked right up to us. At about five feet, she stopped and kept looking, and looking, and looking at us. I didn’t dare blink. She finally just turned around and returned to where she came from. By then a couple more birds had joined her, but no toms. We could have been easily busted if she’d got scared and started cutting, but she didn’t so we were good.IMG_20160314_202631180

Then turkeys decided to gobble…WAY, WAY, AWAY from us. And John thought we needed to go find these birds. I wanted to stay, but in good sport, I agreed and off we went chasing after gobbling turkeys. Now keep this in mind: in the world of turkey hunting, people get shot by chasing after turkeys. Stay put and put your back to a tree….There’s lots of rules to keep hunters safe, and this was one of them. The turkeys never materialized. Every where we went, the turkeys were always five steps (miles more like it) ahead of us. My knee was just beginning to hurt and all the walking we did had it screaming after three hours of chasing. We had covered nearly every field surrounding our original one. And then the turkeys started gobbling…back where we started in the dark.

That’s when I lost it. I was tired of chasing nothing. I wanted to go back where we knew there were turkeys and just wait for them. They spent all of the time in that field….and “we had made a plan and needed to stick to it.” After some major grumbling on my part and finally agreeing to go back on John’s part, we headed back to the original field.

We decided to go down the corn field and get closer to the berm and set out a decoy. No sooner had we approached the end of the field, we heard gobbles close by…REALLY CLOSE. In an instant we dashed up on top of the berm and into a hole made by caved in dirt.We were completely concealed by all the weeds growing around us.IMG_20160314_202819563

John worked his magic on the slate call and sure enough Mr. Tom answered. He came around from the end of the berm, took one look at the decoy and made a beeline for it. Mr. Tom didn’t have a chance; John downed his turkey with one shot.IMG_20160314_202746550

There were lots of smiles in the end, but John’s never been able to live down turkey chasing. And, now he knows we make a plan and stick to it–most of the time. We can giggle about it now, and that’s what’s kept us hunting together all this time. You can’t take it too seriously or it’s no fun.

None of these hunts would have been possible if not for the farmers who were willing to share access to their properties. Sadly, our field has become several house lots so we’ve lost access, but we’ll always have our memories. So if you get a chance to go turkey hunting on someone else’s property, be sure the take the time to say thank you. Hope to see you out there!

 

 

TBT: Brook Fishing to Fly Fishing 101

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Fishing for brook trout before access was an issue. (c) S. Warren

Before we got married, my husband John and I would fish for brook trout in Mount Vernon, Maine. It was one of the few places where a brook trout were more than six inches long and not many people fished the brook. At first I wasn’t a fan of brook fishing because my lines seemed to always get tangled in a bush. I spent as much time untangling my line from tree limbs as I did actually fishing. I ended buying short kiddie poles and they worked great for brook fishing. This is probably when I really learned how to fish and learned how to tell when a fish bites, and only then did I really started to enjoy fishing.

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Showing off their catch to the kiddos. circa 1990

Eventually I graduated up to being able to fish at East Carry with my husband’s family. Fishing East Carry was special because it was the only place we could catch big brookies…or so we thought. Back then fishermen were allowed to keep 5 fish over 8 inches and could catch them using the “plug” fishing method, which is simply big night crawlers on a #4 hook, no bobber, and slow reeling in the line to attract the fish. And these fish ranged in size of 12-16 inches most of the time. We had so much fun and we usually caught our limit–obviously too much fun because now fishing on East Carry is restricted to artificial lures only, and only two fish can be kept. We’ve learned to limit ourselves as well. We release way more than we keep.

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Our take home for everyone but not the entire amount caught. circa 1982 (c) S. Warren

Spring brook fishing in Mount Vernon became an annual outing with our kids until someone started blocking access. After a brief confrontation with a person who wasn’t the landowner but only someone who wanted the fishing and the access all for himself, my husband defied the man’s yelling and continued on his way. He was taking our youngest, who loved to fish and he wasn’t about to let this guy ruin it; however, it did ruin the fun and the son didn’t want to go there anymore.And that was the end of brook fishing there.

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Otter Pond at sunset. (c) S. Warren

That’s when we decided to take him to Otter Pond. Other than fishing East Carry, we never really fished for trout. Otter Pond is a tributary pond to East Carry Pond; it’s a small road accessible pond that has brook trout and it allows for worms. Perfect!

We had artificial lures too, and the boy was awesome using them, but I never caught anything except bottom or a tree limb with a treble hook lure, so I wasn’t all that excited to spend a whole weekend trying to catch fish with them. Then came the brilliant idea. We decided to teach ourselves how to fly fish so that we could once again fish East Carry Pond. Fly fishing was a new adventure for all of us. We would always see fish surfacing on the far side of Otter Pond, but never where we could get to without a canoe.So we loaded up the camper and the canoe, and set out to take the boy fishing for the weekend. We tried brook fishing along the way. We didn’t have a lot of luck but fishing made the boy happy and that’s all we hoped for.

Brook fishing Alder Stream

All three of us in the canoe: John paddled from the back, I was in the front and Tyler was in the middle. We spent the weekend taking turns casting, perfecting the casting technique, tying on different flies, and learning the art of setting the hook. We caught fish after fish and release most of them. We saved enough to have one meal which we cooked over the campfire that night.

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Tyler’s first fly rod catch
Mom’s first fly rod catch

Yes, there were squabbles followed by awkward moments of silence.  “Mom went out of turn”, “the fish jumped by me…not you”, our lines became tangled, Dad didn’t say “casting” before he started casting, and the boy almost jumped out of the canoe when he saw a spider in the tackle bag…but all in all, it helped us learn how to work together, to communicate,  and to enjoy each others’ company, and for that, I’ll always cherish these memories.

Holding up my catch. (c)S. Warren
Dad and son fishing in the canoe..Mom in the front (c) S. Warren

Now we pretty much only fly fish unless we’re fishing for perch in Great Pond or striped bass on the coast. Fly fishing keeps the mind busy and there’s seldom boredom with fly fishing…and catching a fish on a fly is so exciting. When it’s too windy to fish the pond, we head to the river. It makes wading the river currents and casting and interpreting the waters all the more satisfying.

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On the far side of East Carry by the Appalachian hut.

For almost six years, the three of us have fly fished out of the canoe and explored the pond. The youngest now 18 years old, isn’t as excited to go because we marathon fish, but we’re hoping we can coax him to join us a few times before he starts his summer job. As much as we’d like him to join us, we’ve learned to go without him, and enjoy sunsets and fish rises on East Carry. We don’t do much brook fishing anymore…but if you get the chance, it’s another great way to get yourself or a kid outdoors.

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Sunset on East Carry and fly fishing the hatch. ❤

 

TBT: My First Turkey Hunt

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Strutting jake

Maine’s turkey hunting season will begin on May 1st this year. Turkey hunting has a special place in my heart. It’s the hunt that got me into hunting. It’s the hunt where my oldest son got to see his mom shoot a turkey for the first time. It’s the hunt where my oldest son and I shared a hunt together and each shot a turkey at the same time. It’s the hunt that started it all. But what’s most special is that this is a hunt that John and I continue to do together to this day.

Let’s go back to 2002. Maine was holding a lottery drawing for turkey hunting. John asked me if I would put my name in for a permit. I said “sure, but if I get a permit, I get to decide if I’ll shoot it.” Back then you had a sub-permittee who could also shoot if the permit holder didn’t.

Sure enough, I was the only family member drawn for the permit! Even better, I was picked for season A, which meant the first week of the hunt. So the real test came when I had to fire the shotgun. If I could shoot it, I would shoot the turkey; if not, then John would get the honors. Although he never let on, I’m sure John was somewhat disappointed (although he denies it to this day) when I shot the 12 gauge and hit the milk jug…and I was still standing afterward. I would be hunting for turkey!

John and I started scouting for turkeys by driving around Albion since that’s where we always saw them. Unlike now, turkeys weren’t throughout Maine and were found primarily near big silage piles on big cattle farms. We managed to get permission from several places but some of the other farms were pretty free about giving permission to everyone who asked, so the chances of hunter interference was pretty certain. We got sole permission at this farm where a monster tom strutted regularly for the hens on the farm.  This farm required us to drive into a gravel pit, then hike up the hill to the other high side of the pasture and set up for the hunt. It was a physically demanding climb without my gun in tote. I knew that was going to be my biggest obstacle once I would be carrying all of my hunting gear.

We signed up for turkey school through Inland Fisheries and Wildlife which was a lot of fun. We were clueless about turkey hunting. No orange required, but don’t wear blue, red or white either…and all kinds of other do and don’t rules meant to keep hunters safe. We also learned about turkey poop which I’ll never forget. Toms and jakes  poop “J” shaped and hens poop ice cream cone shaped poops. This really is important when scouting for turkey!

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Year no. 2, and still wearing my cotton camo.

I bought my first set of camouflage clothing including a hat, a mask and gloves. I even bought John some camo since we didn’t have much, and I’ve never lived down that camo became ‘important’ only after I started hunting. Okay, I admit it…I enjoy buying camo (not pink either) especially when I buy it for me…lol. Everything was the new camo pattern, but everything was also cotton; I had a lot to learn about hunting clothes. We bought turkey box calls, locator calls, turkey shot ammo, turkey vests, seats, turkey decoys, slates…we were prepared. All we needed was a turkey.

We set up the blind under a bunch of hemlocks that hung over a fence line the weekend before the first day of the big hunt. We placed a big camo drape in front with brush concealing our bodies. We had perfect cover. The first day of the season was almost at the end of the April so the field was not only free of snow, but also greening up.

The Sunday night before opening day, we were hit with a freak spring snowstorm. I mean it snowed about five or six inches. We had not counted on needing winter clothes, or rain coats since the temps were supposed to rise into the 50’s later that day. Any way we looked at it, it was going to be a gross wet mess. But we threw together some rain ponchos, rain pants and off we went. The snow didn’t help hide us as we crossed the field, but we were there before daylight and that’s all that mattered. John strategically placed our one hen decoy out about 20 yards, the distance for a great shot.

As soon as the sky began to lighten and daylight broke, John began to work his magic on the slate call. He purred, and did the fly down with his hat just like we learned. The then slowly added clucks and yelps. Turkeys gobbled! John began purring and calling on that slate call and just like text book, out of nowhere, that huge tom came barreling over the hill on a dead run headed right for our decoy. He was so fat that he waddled from side to side as he ran. Once he got to the decoy, he stopped, plumped himself up and began strutting. John purred. He dropped his feathers, stuck out his neck and let a gobble and I shot.IMG_20160302_202438591 The hunt was over in about five minutes. We barely made it past legal hunting time, but we had a turkey. A beautiful wet turkey. By the time we retrieved him, his feathers were soaked from the flapping of his wings before he died.

 

IMG_20150504_112303247_HDRJohn carried my turkey out because I knew when I held it that I’d never make it to the truck. He still carries my birds…two last year! We knew he was big. My turkey topped the scales at 24.5 pounds! The state record was just over 25 pounds at the time. Unfortunately, I never had the man at the tagging station certify my weight and records are only kept for 10 years, so I never got my Maine Wild Turkey Club patch. It’s a club for all turkeys over 20 pounds. I mounted his beautiful tail and 9-7/8 inch beard. His spurs were 7/8″ long but I did not keep them.

IMG_20160302_203726142Within five minutes of returning to the truck we were met by two game wardens. They knew of this big bird and they heard me shoot. It was an interesting conversation because they assumed it was John who shot the turkey and kept directing questions to him. When John told them I shot the turkey their eyes showed the surprise, and then came the questions. I really did shoot that turkey Mr. Game Wardens! My how things have changed since then! I’m glad to see more women are out there so that I’m no longer the exception to the rule.

We baked Mr. Turkey but it wasn’t all that good; he was pretty dry. Unlike a store bought turkey, wild turkey has a much deeper and narrower breast so laying him on his back to roast was near impossible. We’ve since adopted other ways to prepare wild turkey; my favorite is just putting it in a stew with lots of gravy.

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2015 – Two birds with one shot!

This girl still holds the family record for the biggest turkey, but I haven’t shot one with a bow. Perhaps 2016 will be the year! I hope no matter who you are, that you’ll get out and try turkey hunting. Don’t forget to bring a wife, husband, daughter, son, or a friend. Even if you don’t get a turkey, watching the sun rise above the horizon on a brisk spring morning, and watching the world awaken before your eyes, is enough to get you hooked.

Feeding Winter Deer

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Saturday’s frigid temps were too cold to do much else, except take a ride to see some deer that are fed every winter. Last year, our winter was so bad that the deer had a hard time. I saw a direct impact on the numbers this year in my area. I didn’t realize how much the weather affects deer until I saw my little buck in the spring. He looked pathetic and so skinny and weak. I really didn’t know if he’d make it before more natural food was available.

After last spring’s story of several New Hampshire deer dying from eating corn, hay and deer pellets, I can’t say as though I’m as ready to rescue the deer from starvation as before. These deer ate too much and their stomachs couldn’t adjust to the food and they ended up dying.

I had never fed deer before this past spring, but I decided to get some high protein deer feed and put out just a small amount for my deer. My deer ate it and I continued to feed small amounts to him for a month or so, until I knew he could find plenty of natural food to forage. I also added some mineral lick powder, but no hay and no corn. I was told a long time ago to never feed a deer hay; they cannot digest it, but will have a full stomach and will simply starve to death.

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This winter I put out a bit of deer pellets at the end of the season so that I could catch my deer’s antlers. He never dropped them at the bait site. I did manage to find one, but he hasn’t returned to the feed since January 29th, when I got the chance to see he had dropped his second antler.

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This winter has been much milder and  I’m not as worried about the deer. In fact, I didn’t put out any more feed since the deer are gone and the squirrels are getting scary big. They don’t need any more food! I need to try squirrel hunting if I can convince the guys to eat squirrel.

20160214_151052Each year we venture to a spot to see the deer. In the past, we gave “bucks for does and dough for bucks.” This year, we did not leave money since I heard they’re not particularly fond of hunting or hunters.  We still enjoy watching the deer and other onlookers who never let us down.20160214_151831 I always find it interesting to see people who think that wild animals are docile, cute little things that they can pet like a dog or cat. The deer seemed to be much more aggressive this year, and there wasn’t much time when a scuffle for food wasn’t taking place. If you saw the way these deer fight, you’d be smart to stay in your car…I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that hoof…but nope, some woman with her five something year old thought they would try to see how close they could get to feed a deer with an apple, which only drove the deer further away…and then the two teenage girls who also decided they need to get out of their vehicle, climb over the snowbank and approach the deer…yeah…what ever happened to just viewing and enjoying?

buckThere was at least 55 deer on the lawn, with dozens in the woods and on the other sides of the property. I would estimate at least 100 deer in counting distance. We were lucky to see one nice 6-8 point buck that hadn’t dropped his antlers yet. My deer dropped his on January 21st…it might as well have been last year since it feels longer than that. This buck was also aggressive and chasing does; you’d think it was October the way he was chasing! It’s incredible to think these deer are out in this weather. At -8 at 3pm, I can’t even imagine how cold the nights get for them. They noses and chins were frozen so that you could see the hairs on their chins.

Yes, We’ll continue to go up and see deer, but I’ll leave my dollars invested in conservation when I buy my hunting licenses. I have to admit, I sure do wish I could go shed hunting here!20160214_150720

 

Hunting Timber Ghosts

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Timber ghosts is the name, my husband John, uses to refer to snowshoe hare. The name fits perfectly because snowshoe hare are silent, and their white hair makes them almost invisible against the snow. Most of the time, snowshoe hare are hunted with dogs. They also have incredible sense of sight and hearing so they are long gone before you ever see them.

 

Fall rabbit…still brown
Rabbits are nocturnal

Before this winter, I had only been rabbit hunting a few times. The first time I joined the guys a couple years ago for a rabbit hunt out back of the house. I soon realized that I didn’t like having so many people all in one area to worry about not shooting. I opted out after that, but it was easy to decide that because I’ve never been a fan of struggling through snow and not being able to keep up…and that’s without a gun in tote.

11053074_10204444226839308_2591495539161614368_oLater that same winter, I joined John and Ty for a trip north where there is prime rabbit habitat. Taking the dog north to rabbit hunt was extremely stressful for me. With stories of dogs being killed by bobcat or coyote, or getting lost, I had a very hard time not worrying about my son’s dog, Fly.

Dogs chase rabbits and rabbits circle, so as a hunter the key to getting a rabbit is to be where the dog started the rabbit, but if a dog starts a rabbit half a mile away, that’s a long way to go before you catch up. Sometimes dogs chase rabbits out of hearing distance only to lose the track then find another rabbit and start a new chase. Doing that in an area you know is one thing, but in an area where there could be a lot more hazards, it’s extra stressful. In addition to worrying, we had to use our snowshoes because the snow was so deep. Wearing snowshoes keeps you from sinking, but not falling, and I spent a lot of time picking myself up off the uneven terrain.

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Fly working…trying to find the bunny

We don’t have an electronic GPS collar for our dog like a lot of hunters, so we have to rely on his training and our hearing. He’s a wonderfully smart dog and loves to hunt. So much so that he chased and chased and chased until we no longer heard him and he didn’t return. He didn’t circle back to us…and a good time quickly turned into worrying. Tyler and I were just sick thinking Fly might be lost and daylight was closing. John to the rescue to retrieve him. He followed his tracks in the snow and had to go at least a mile before he caught up with him. When they finally showed up, we were all relieved. That was the last time I agreed to go north to rabbit hunt!

Last winter there was so much snow the dogs couldn’t hunt, and if they can’t hunt there was no way I was going to even venture out. However, this winter has been pretty tame and I’ve been thinking that I need to try rabbit hunting again. I’m not one to give up and I’m in better physical shape than ever before, and it was time to face this adventure head on. I even have my own shotgun now so the only thing I needed was to see a rabbit!

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Son Zack with his new pup Pete and my Fly. No rabbits but lots of exercise.

All fall I had rabbits showing up on more than one game camera. Three different times we tried to rabbit hunt, and not once did the pup jump a rabbit to circle.

Saturday turned out to be warmer than the forecast, and the sticky snow was perfect for tracking rabbits. John was headed out to take Fly on a rabbit hunt in a spot not far from the house and he asked if I wanted to go. I was excited to give it a try again and hopefully get a chance to get my first rabbit.

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John waiting for the rabbit. He’s wearing white camo to blend in better.

We trekked into the woods and it was no time before Fly was on a rabbit. He circled it big, and when he circled back, the rabbit didn’t cross the field but instead shortened the circle. We had to move quick and find where he circled past so we could set up for the second time around. I stood as still as I could since rabbit have incredible eyesight. John had moved down a ways to spread out and it wasn’t long before I heard Fly coming. I was expecting him to circle out in front of me, but the rabbit must have seen me. I saw a flash of white off to my right and about ten seconds later there went Fly right after him not missing a beat on his baying.  The rabbit got away. In a matter of minutes, Fly was on another one. John and I found his tracks and set ourselves apart. We waited and listened to the dog making his circle. The area was so heavy with brush you couldn’t see far. I literally couldn’t see more than 15-20 feet in front of me. If there weren’t a rabbit trail right there, I’d think there was no chance of seeing the rabbit.

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My first rabbit!

Then it finally happened. I thought I was seeing things when finally, a little white ball of fur jumped over the log and was about ten feet in front of me. I drew my gun and with one shot, I had my rabbit! The moment of finally achieving what I had set out t do was perfect. John ran over and gave me a big hug. I got the first rabbit of the day and it wasn’t long before we were off chasing another one.

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John, Fly and rabbit

The day ended positively, and I realized that not once did I worry about the dog getting lost. He did a great job and out of five rabbits chased, we got two.

Rabbit hunting is definitely a physical activity, but I think I’ve found a new love for winter that’s going to get me outside.

 

Being a Woman of the Maine Outdoors

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I have always loved being active in the outdoors and consider myself a Woman of the Maine Outdoors. I’m even a board member for a non-profit Women of the Maine Outdoors; yet winter has always been my least favorite season, and my least active season. Two reasons: I have asthma, and I detest being cold.

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Our new fireplace

It’s easy to stay inside where it’s warm, where there’s a movie and warm fireplace, where I always have housework to be done, where there’s laundry to keep up, a wood stove to fill, and home projects to get done.  I avoid it all the rest of the year so I don’t know why I care now!

My usual outdoor cycle begins with fly fishing and camping activity in the spring even if there still are snowbanks to climb over. My knees get really sore from activities so I end up taking lots of ibuprofen and acetaminophen and do a lot of whining. Once bear season arrives in August, I hope I have enough wind to help haul buckets of bait. Bear season ends just in time for deer season when I hunt every single day I can because the knees don’t hurt as much, the asthma is under control, and I’ve built endurance to enjoy every minute. Then winter comes. I spend the majority of my time indoors.

First fishing of the season!
Snowshoeing with the boy
A snowmobile ride at Moosehead
Lugging bait buckets

In the last few years, I’ve been lucky to do a snowmobiling trip, maybe go snowshoeing once, get coerced into ice fishing once, and then I wait for spring. By spring, I’m completely out of shape and the mad cycle begins all over again. I’ve decided that if I’m to be someone who represents Woman of the Maine Outdoors, then I need to change!

In an effort to break the cycle, I’ve been getting outdoors this winter. Keeping my deer cameras out and allowing myself the time to get out into the woods has been the best thing I’ve done in years.

I go prepared with my new hunting fanny pack I got for Christmas. I bring along my inhaler, phone with camera, eye glasses and a compass just in case. I am finding new adventures and wildlife in the woods every time I go out! I’ve found more tracks of animals I never knew were there. I have fox, owls and deer on my game camera.

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Something’s down there!
Not sure what this is.
Rabbit Track

For now I haven’t had to put on my snowshoes because the amount of snow has been minimal but walking in the snow is still giving me a good workout. We are giving the snowshoes a new coat of marine varnish to make them like new again for when the snow does finally arrive. It’s almost time for our annual ice fishing trip to Moosehead, and I’ll be getting out my one trap and hoping to catch that monster togue or brookie.

Actually, let’s be honest. I’ll be happy to get a flag.

Partridge perch…lots of poop. This one really likes this spot!
Waitinf for varnish to dry.
Flag..all I want to do is see a flag..JUST ONE
My first fish caught ice fishing

Maybe this weekend, I’ll get the chance to do some rabbit hunting or to try my luck at coyote hunting~I guess I better buy my licenses!

Whatever you do, take time for yourself with or without someone, and get out there~being a woman (or man) of the Maine outdoors begins with baby steps. If you don’t have private land, there are lots of trails for public use and you’ll be surprised what you can see…even in the city I’m told there’s some solitude in the woods. Hats off to my baby sister Wendi for “getting out there”.

 

 

 

Prize in the Snow

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Saturday morning we headed out with high expectations that we’d go down to the stand, get on a new track and find not only the first dropped antler, but also find the second one that “must” have fallen off the following day. I was convinced they couldn’t be far from the game camera.

Disappointingly, there were no new deer sign or feedings on the camera or in the snow. The camera batteries died due to the cold so we weren’t 100% sure, but there didn’t appear to be any new tracks in the snow. A full moon the night before and our playing with coyote sounds near the stand probably didn’t help.

We began at the Christmas tree grain pile and decided on the “divide and conquer” technique. I stayed on one track and John on another covering the entire area and then moving onto a new section. I had visions of what it would be like to find it. A scream of excitement kept going through my mind. I dressed light and my Under Armour heat gear kept me warm and even when I still managed to sweat, I was comfortable trekking through the shin/knee deep snow.

I managed to see some pretty cool animal sign that wasn’t deer and wasn’t my antler. Smithfield is known for its boulders in the woods left from the glacier (yes Mr. Lagasse, I was listening in seventh grade) and the area we were covering is no different. Boulder after boulder to navigate around or over, I came upon three different trails where porcupine had come out of their wintering shelters. The porcupine left neat little trodden down trails through the snow and with careful looking, you could find where they had climbed and chewed the bark off a nearby tree.

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Rabbit tracks and rabbit poop…(c) S. Warren

Given the amount of rabbit tracks one would think we were overrun with rabbits…I wish that was the case! I can’t wait to try rabbit hunting with Fly and John.

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One of three deer beds in a softwood growth. (c)S.Warren

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Happy hunters! (c) SW

Three hours later, half a mile away from my tree stand, we finally find newer tracks. We find more deer beds and then we find the prize we’ve been looking for–the antler, the left antler that had fallen off January 21st. The look on our faces says it all. Now I’m determined to find the match. I’ll be back out tomorrow tracking the shed hoping for my prize.

 

My biggest surprise about the antler was to see how golden brown the base is. Having only seen the antlers on his head in nighttime photos, in my mind, I imagined they would be all pale and not brown. A very nice surprise!

 

You can still see the blood on the end of the antler where my buck dropped it. (c) S. Warren
Love seeing where he rubbed and wore his antler down during the rut. (c) S. Warren

Tracking the Shed

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Remember when I told you my deer lost his antler on the 21st of January last year? I’ve been anxiously watching the calendar trying to plan trips down to my stand, but between the cold, meetings, and getting home late from work, I haven’t been able to get to outside.

Before I made my trip down to the stand tonight, the last time I had been there was Monday, January 19th. I had the day off so I spent about three hours in the woods. The fresh coat of snow told me the deer hadn’t been there since I last put out food the day before.MOULTRIE DIGITAL GAME CAMERA I hadn’t bothered with the chicken wire after one of my online friends told me I may be breaking the law with chicken wire SO…on her advice, I went natural and took my recently thrown out Christmas tree down in the woods, and plunked it right over the pile of grain. Thank goodness we got a smaller tree this year! Nothing for the deer to get tangled in but something that may help an antler fall right where I want it to fall.

 

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There were deer tracks but not nearly like before…but any deer tracks get me excited. I exchanged out the memory card, refreshed the grain and beet crush, and John and I picked up our trash and headed in a big circle. I purchased a FoxPro predator caller for John at Christmas and we wanted to try it out. Having had a coyote howl one morning on my way into my stand, I got to realize how close it must have been. The eerie howling that comes from that machine is simply unbelievable. I’m hoping we’ll get a chance to try nighttime coyote hunting and actually get some out of our woods.

January 20th – Both antlers
January 21st- antler missing!!

Back home, I open my computer, put in the memory card and saw that my deer has lost an antler! We plan to go out first thing tomorrow morning to check the camera to see if he has dropped the other tonight. That’s right, my deer lost his antler last night, January 21st! I can’t believe he lost an antler the exact same day! So we’ll be out tracking the shed to see if we can find where he dropped it. I’m hoping we’re lucky enough to find the shed, but I know it won’t be as easy as it seems.

 

Waiting for the Antlers to Drop

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With deer and moose season over and the winter coming into full swing, antler shed hunting has become a hobby for many hunters anIMG_20151214_193956511Ad non-hunters alike. I myself have never found any shed antlers except for the pair of moose antlers John and I found one spring. They were a couple years old and we weren’t even hunting for shed antlers; we just sort of came across one then deliberately looked for the other one and actually found it. They adorn my bedroom walls along with John’s moose mount, bear mount and rug, my turkey fan and my college diploma. John has found several pairs of shed moose antlers and some deer antlers too. Our new fireplace also has a beautiful five pound brown trout John caught in high school and it’s mounted to a shed antler he found.

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Zack’s find: a perfect set. (c) S. Warren

Our son Zack found a freshly shed pair of antlers one sunny January day. We had a nice snowstorm so we took the kids sliding down the Bulldozed road as we call it.  There right where we were sliding, John found a pair of newly shed antlers. The deer had dropped them right in the trail. The next day, Zack, who spent most of his childhood hiking the woods behind the house, came across a pair of 8-point sheds where one of my tree stands are now located. I’ve never seen a kid so excited! The following year, Zack found another pair that matched identically to the pair from the previous year. He never saw the deer in the woods but he always kept his treasured finds close at hand and hoped to find them again. He even found a shed so big that he made the Skull and Antler Club book for one of the largest sheds ever found in Maine that year. He still loves to shed hunt and does a lot in Downeast Maine.

 

Last year, I had a nice little buck coming and eating acorns where I have a tree stand. I had several pictures of him with his antlers. I never got a chance to shoot him, and only saw does all season. By chance, I left my game camera out longer than usual and when I finally went to retrieve it, I was delighted when I found all kinds of surprise pictures. My deer had been back so I put out some deer grain…and I managed to get the exact date he dropped his antlers…January 21, 2015.

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So after seeing that my little buck survived last year’s long harsh winter and seeing how awful and skinny he looked, I set out some grain to help him and any other deer that might need it.

 

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Skinny deer after long hard winter. (c) S. Warren

I didn’t use corn after I read that it’s too harsh for them to eat after a hard winter. Instead, I got deer grain with lots of nutrients and only put out a small pailful at a time so that they wouldn’t eat too much. Later in the spring, I got to see my little buck sprout his new antlers and watched him come back from time to time this fall looking for some acorns. Well, the acorn season was dismal and none of the deer hung around at all.

 

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However, he did return this winter after the deer season was over…of course. John and I rigged up some chicken wire and sticks and carefully placed some grain around the edge of it in hopes my little buck who’s not so little anymore, will come back for some eats, get his antlers tangled in the wire, and drop his antlers. He was really skiddish at first but he’s finally stepping into the v-shaped chicken wire….and so for now I’m waiting patiently for the antlers to drop.

copyright S. Warren
copyright S. Warren

 

 

Partridge, Songbirds and Owls, Oh My!

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When I first started hunting, I didn’t seem to see much ‘extra’ wildlife other than the  gray squirrels, chickadees, finches and blue jays. As I became a better hunter, or perhaps because I spent more time in the woods, I have been able to reap the benefits of seeing ‘extra’ wildlife, which is simply those I don’t expect to see and am not hunting for. My first encounter was having a gray squirrel climb the tree I was sitting in and actually come around and almost climb onto me. I don’t freak out easily, but I didn’t want that thing muckling onto my ear or scratching my face in “self-defense”. One good swat and he left, but with plenty to say too. So much for that morning. Trying to be quiet and shoo off an unwanted guest is not easy.

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Partridge under my bear tree stand. (c) S. Warren

I’ve seen more than my share of partridge while deer hunting. The temptation to shoot off the rifle to score some birds has more than once crossed my mind. Sitting during bear season this year, I tried to video with my phone, a clutch of partridge making their way across the forest floor. There were at least four of them parading around my bear bait site…and me trying not to move. They walked right past me and never knew I was there.

I saw my very first cardinal while sitting in a tree stand. I was so excited, I had all I could to hold it in. It was extremely cold that morning. I heard it land on a fir tree behind me. There is fluttered its wings which is what got me to turn my head. It still as vivid in my mind as if it happened yesterday.

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Nuthatch with an attitude. The only bird that can walk down a tree face first because of their unique claws.

Most of the time songbirds are just interesting to watch. They scurry about, doing their thing looking for food. Occasionally they’ll land so close that you think they don’t see you. So when a nuthatch decided to attack me in the bear stand this season, this was the LAST thing I expected it to do. It was persistent (which is supposed to be a virtue) in charging at me from the branch above and wouldn’t stop beeping at me…or whatever you call it…and I really think it was mad. I felt like it had bullied me, but I hadn’t done anything to provoke it. I was just sitting there trying to be quiet! At first I tried to ignore it. When it wouldn’t go away, I tried to video it with my phone, but I only managed to record the vocal attack…wah, wah, wah…as it hopped from branch to branch.

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photo from maine.gov

One of my favorite birds to see are owls. Owls to me are so majestic and no matter when I hear them, it makes me stop and smile. My very first owl that I ever saw was when I was walking out of the woods at dark. A Great Horned owl landed on a bent over birch. It’s wings spanned the path lit by the moon. It reminded me of a Halloween full moon scene. It’s silhouette is still burned in my memory.

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Eastern Screech Owl

Seeing owls in action is when it gets really interesting. Sitting in my tree stand one morning, I watched as a red squirrel chit and chatted its way around the giant spruce in front of me. Out of nowhere and without a sound, an Eastern Screech owl flew in and landed on a branch. He was rust colored, only about eight inches tall. Spotting the red squirrel, the owl began chasing after the squirrel as it moved in spirals around the tree trunk up and down while avoiding capture. The owl hopped from limb to limb and was no match for the squirrel’s speed. The owl eventually gave up and flew away.

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Barred Owl (c) S. Warren

My first bear season, I was visited several times by a Barred Owl. See how well he blends in with the birch tree! The bait area was populated by mice, chipmunks, red squirrels that at times never seemed to shut up. This drew in my Barred Owl who not only looked for his next meal, but also I got to see him get it. He patiently made his way down to lower branches on neighboring trees watching the chipmunks screech at him running back forth instead of running hiding. You’d think they’d be scared and run for cover…but nope and the owl eventually pounced on his meal.

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(c) Erin M.

 

 

I must also mention that my friend Erin and I took a fishing trip and came upon these two Great Horned fledglings this past summer. I’m looking forward to more girl time and teaching my friend how to fly fish next summer.

My game camera gave me an unexpected surprise. I’ve had a lot of different animals on it this season, but never an owl until this. I’m not sure if it’s a squirrel or the flying squirrel that I had on several photos, but it didn’t see the owl coming at all. Nature at work, and that’s the kind of hunter I want to be- delivering a quick death to my prey. Perhaps that’s why I like owls so much.

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Skunked by the Deer

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Well, first of all I have to apologize for being so delinquent in my posts. The rest of deer hunting season followed by muzzle loader season and then the renovations among holiday preparations have taken their toll. I am behind, and in more than my blog, and Christmas is only three days away. I haven’t wrapped a gift or baked a cookie. However, my new fireplace and living room look and feel fantastic! I’m extremely proud of our work and can’t believe we got so much accomplished with our crazy schedules.

However, I’ve learned to adapt and life moves on whether we’re ready or not so why not just go with it and not fret over it. I can’t change it, and in fact, I wouldn’t change any of my life for the last year. I fully love my life and the chaos that comes with it. With each change and event, we grow as people… as hunters, parents, and human beings.

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So, despite the fact that my six point buck returned at night only just before the season ended, I was happy to know he’s still around. I hunted him hard, but he outsmarted me. I jumped him numerous times in different spots but never got a shot because it was always too dark. The last time I jumped him was the last night of rifle season by my Buddy stand. I heard that familiar deer running sound, but couldn’t spot him. I pulled up my gun and looked through my scope hard. Nothing. I thought he had run off, but three more steps and I heard him again…heading towards my other stand. He never blew and just pounced away. I did see his his tail, the beautiful white tail flipping the bird and laughing as he pranced away. I could have taken a shot, but in reality…I say ‘he’, but I didn’t see antlers so it may very well have been another doe, and I couldn’t take that chance.

IMG_20151121_082238038_HDR.jpgMuzzle loader season only produced more does, and without a doe tag the best I could do was take a picture. Although I hunted every day except for one, I came up empty handed. I’m pretty hardcore, and can tolerate a lot, but when rain poured down on me as soon as I headed into the woods, I turned around and came right back in. Rain and black powder guns don’t mix well even when they’re modern, and I wasn’t prepared to sit in the rain only to get wet.

IMG_20151123_080428846John got a nice buck so we’re not meatless this winter, and we won’t totally break the piggy bank buying meat. I’m counting on rabbit hunting to bring in some more. We’re totally in love with our rabbit pot pies and I have a freezer full of them for winter.

We’ll be ice fishing soon, but other than our trip to Moosehead Lake in February, I’m not much of a participant. It’s hard to believe that as much as I love fly fishing and fishing in general, that I would be so apathetic about ice fishing. It may have something to do with the bone chilling cold, freezing cold wind and water on my hands, and not liking thin ice that has me thinking there’s got to be something more fun to do in the winter.  I used to ski until my knees wouldn’t let me any longer. I like to ice skate, but I suck at ice skating–and rollerskating for that matter. I broke my wrist roller skating so I’ve been banned from any skating all together. I have snowshoes, so when the snow finally falls, I’ll probably try snowshoeing where I hunt so I can get some  exercise.

Winter is the toughest time for this outdoor girl since I don’t like being cold and my asthma is at its worst. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not ready to give up. I’m not going to dwell on 2015 and beat myself up for not accomplishing what I set out to do….it’s not like I didn’t try….The bear and deer may have skunked me for 2015, but 2016 will be different in many ways…and I’m only beginning.

I’m not one to make resolutions so I won’t even go there. I started a healthy lose weight program before I saw my Miss Maine Sportsman calendar photos which would have pushed me over the edge much sooner…and I’ve lost 16 pounds…but I have much more to lose before next spring when I cast my fly again and my WISH is to be considerably smaller by spring.  My other wishes: to take a trapping course so I can trap with John next fall, shoot my first bear, snag another moose permit, and shoot my first deer with my bow.

I sure do miss fly fishing…and now my wishes are answered…. I just read that since there is no ice and it’s been so warm, that open water season has been extended but few fisherman are taking advantage…Well, damn it. No one told me! Perhaps I can convince John to take me to the river. The water may be cold, but my waders will keep me dry and warm. Perhaps I should be wearing my waders ice fishing?

Whatever your 2016 holds, I hope you’ll get out into the outdoors. Try new things, face new challenges…and never, ever, give up, especially when it comes to mice….I’m up to 15 and I have resorted to using pink mint marshmallows as bait.