Outdoors – Page 5 – My Mainely Girl Adventures

In Pursuit of Striper

August 2, 2016 staciwarrenLeave a comment

101_7563 Fishing on the Maine coast for striped bass, which most fisherman call Striper, is one of my favorite types of fishing. We have tried fishing for striped bass with eels, worms, poppers, mackerel and crabs. Nothing has worked as well as quahog clams. The bigger the clam the better. The weight of the clam eliminates the need for a sinker.

HPIM0634a Quahog clams are big clams that we pick from the sand at low tide. This is perfect since we fish right when the tide turns and comes in. Well, we don’t actually pick them unless we buy them at the grocery store, but we prefer to get our own. quahog We go out waist deep into the cold ocean water. We use our feet to feel the sandy bottom underwater while trying to stand in one place with the waves coming in. Standing with both feet together, John does the jig…a twisting motion to work his feet into the sand and feel a clam under his feet. I can’t use both feet together because the movement hurts my knees, so I use only one foot and move it back and forth moving the sand and digging a hole with my foot until I feel a clam. We then use our toes to get underneath the clam and free it from the sand. Then comes the torture of getting the upper body wet. I do the big dip underwater to retrieve my clam. Into the suit it goes, and then I move onto another spot. We stock up on clams to use for future fishing as well as for the moment.

Picture_12 — Tyler with his ocean pole at sunset.

Once we have enough clams, we grab our ocean rods. These rods are heavy duty with open faced reels. On the end of the heavy line is a big swivel and very large circle hook size 00.

Using a clam knife, we open the live clam and free it from its shell. If you freeze the clams for later use, they open just like they do when cooked. You can literally pull the clam apart without a knife. I like to make sure I cut the clam so that I get all of the big muscles that close the shell for added stability on the hook. Carefully, we weave the clam onto the hook so that the foot of the clam is threaded last. The idea is to get the clam onto the hook so that it won’t be cast off when you make the cast. There’s nothing worse than watching a big old clam fly through the air and not attached to your line!

HPIM0621 — Out on the rocks at low tide. (c)SWarren

Fishing at low tide allows us to get out far on the rocks so that we’re not getting tangled in the weeds. However, you have to keep an eye on the tide. On several occasions we’ve had to practically swim back to the main land because of the tide coming in. I prefer to fish on the rock ledge on a peninsula over surf fishing. I want to have the rod in my hand when the fish bites.

Casting out into the water, the clam is allowed to sink slowly and then a slow reel in. Sometimes there’s a bite before the swallow, and other times, it’s simply one big swallow and a striper is on the line. If you’ve ever caught a large-mouth bass, then you’d love striper fishing. Striper fishing is one of the most exciting fishing I’ve ever done.With minimum lengths of 28 inches, fish get big quick.

Dad & Becky — Nothing better than the walk of success.

Occasionally we fish for striper and catch something else. On our first outing this year, I had bites and nibbles tugging away at my bait. Every time I tried to set the hook, I got nothing. Finally, after losing my clam and putting another one on, I had another bite. With my polarized glasses on, I was able to see a school of fish grabbing at my big clam. These were not striper. With a quick switch to a mackerel jig with a tad of clam, we were catching pollack!

Not nearly as exciting as striper, but lots of fun to see the youngest excited to catch something.

IMG_20160801_211213 — Pollack for supper!

We’re hoping to get back out on the rocks for another chance to get a big one. If you fish for striper, give quahogs a try. And remember to bring along some smaller hooks for those fish that show up when you least expect it. Someday I’ll learn how to fly fish for them stripers…always a new adventure waiting to happen.

2005 catch (c)SWarren

Striper too big for the cooler (c)SWarren

PS: Remember to wear a life jacket if you go out in a canoe or kayak, especially on the ocean..

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.

July 15, 2016August 23, 2016 staciwarren5 Comments

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

images — 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

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

July 5, 2016 staciwarrenLeave a comment

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.

June 28, 2016June 28, 2016 staciwarrenLeave a comment

We Climb Down a Mountain

beaver dam — 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.

Beaver dam2 — 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.

moose2 — 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.

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

June 23, 2016July 6, 2016 staciwarrenLeave a comment

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.

IMG_20160623_200713196 — 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.

June 20, 2016 staciwarrenLeave a comment

Bear prints Bear 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.

IMG_20160611_170246119 — Rock flipped over looking for bugs

IMG_20160611_165917547 — 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.

IMG_20160611_170312229 — Claw marks on the tree

IMG_20160611_170317079 — Tree broken over

IMG_20160611_170330142 — 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!

802151104a_131471 — Claw marks on the beech tree. Hoping for a bumper crop this year.

For the Love of a Bass Fishing Son

June 14, 2016June 14, 2016 staciwarren1 Comment

I’m am the first person to admit that I enjoy fishing, but fly fishing is my true love when it comes to fishing. Other than white perch fishing, we really spend all of our time fly fishing. So when the youngest son, Tyler, started bass fishing this year, I was a bit baffled. We had invested a considerable amount of money in all this gear for him to go fly fishing with us, and now all of a sudden he’s bass fishing. What gives?! We don’t even eat bass!

product-the-original-spinnerbait-fishing-lures — Spinner bait photo by http://rumbadoll.com/

As this school year came to end, it also was the end of high school for all of us. Tyler was graduating and then starting his summer job the following Monday. In the spirit of making this his time, we planned a full weekend of bass fishing on the lake in the boat. I have to admit I didn’t have a huge amount of enthusiasm for bass fishing, but this wasn’t my weekend, it was Tyler’s.

Sure, we had caught bass before with the spinner bait I kept in the tackle box, but I was out to catch anything, not targeting bass. And most of the time, I was using crawlers, not bass lures. I still remember the fight to get this one into the boat and from the smile on my face, I had fun catching him. I released him since we don’t eat bass.

Staci's bass — One of the few small mouth bass I have caught. I was fishing for perch with a worm! (c) S. Warren

100_0678 — Big brother Zack, youngest Ty, and future son-in-law Aaron showing off their ice fishing catch. (c) S. Warren

As I recall, fishing on East Pond was pretty fun. Among the white perch, sunfish and pickerel, we caught several bass each summer, and my oldest son was great at pulling large mouth bass through the ice on East Pond each winter. To me, East Pond with connects to Serpentine Stream where I learned to fish, was more known for the white perch run–a kid’s fishing paradise. In 2013, the lake changed. The biologists removed a lot of fish because of the need to control algae blooms and this also seemed to affect the bass population.

Dad and Ty with his first large mouth bass on Messalonskee Lake, Sidney, ME.

Now looking back, I realize Tyler fell in love with bass fishing long before he ever put a fly rod in his hand. There is nothing like a good fight on a kid’s pole to get hooked. We stayed at a camp on Messalonskee Lake and the entire week was spent fishing on the dock for bass.

Now it’s all starting to make sense!

Summer 2009 More 024 — One happy boy with a very nice large mouth bass. (c) S. Warren

Tyler has changed a lot over the years, and I guess his love of bass fishing has always been there. He’s pretty amazing with his casting moves. I, on the other hand, need to learn how to use my new Ugly Stik spinning rod. I couldn’t seem to get the bail down on my reel before the frog hit the water. I watched bass repeatedly slam my frog, but I couldn’t set the hook because I was just not fast enough. There’s actually a lot more method to bass fishing than I ever thought, and it’s a lot more fun than I remembered. I have a lot to learn about bass fishing from my son, and I’m looking forward to every chance I get. You’re never to old to go fishing with your kids, and eventually they’ll teach you a thing or two. Happy Fishing!

First cast and he got this! (c) S. Warren

Bringing in the bass. Check out that frog! (c) S. Warren

Florida Adventures for a Maine Girl – Part III

June 6, 2016June 14, 2016 staciwarrenLeave a comment

Alligators In My Backyard!

Everyone knows Florida has alligators. The last two times we went to Florida, we visited Gatorland in Orlando to see alligators up close. Gatorland is located in the bird corridor which means when it’s spring, the migrating birds lay nests of eggs throughout the property. Gators linger beneath the nests hoping for a quick meal from a fledgling misstep.

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While the alligators were still interesting, the swamp walk was even better. The one thing I can say is that in Maine, you can just go out into the woods with no worries. It’s a lot harder to encourage that in Florida because everywhere around you there is something that wants to eat you, bite you or chase you.

The swamp walk at Gatorland has been the highlight of our trips not because of the swamp, but because of what’s in the swamp. There are species of plants and animals not found in Maine. Geckos galore. The green ones are native and the brown ones invasive; and 90% of the geckos seen are brown. IMG_20160422_134821371_TOP

One animal in particular that makes our adventure an adventure ….is the snake. Lots of snakes…And this Maine girl does not like snakes at all! However, seeing snakes with caution is entirely different than looking at them through a glass partition. I get to challenge my fear while still feeling safe…somewhat. The board walk is roughly four to five feet wide with minimal railings, but the message is clear: Stay on the boardwalk and watch out for snakes and what ever you do. Don’t touch them or try to catch them. They can be nasty and most are poisonous. Duly noted!

I wasn’t that close…thanks to the zoom on my cell phone, they look a lot closer than I really was.

Curled up and hiding under the ferns. Very fat and about three feet long…black possibly adult water mocassin. Dull scales so it’s not a black racer.

Juvenile water mocassin…poinsonous

Either juvenile water mocassin or small pygmy rattlesnake..both very poisonous

The first time we did the walk in 2011 we found about five snakes. Only one was what I would consider big. It was a copperhead and I still shudder when I remember seeing it because when I finally spotted what everyone was looking at, I was WAY closer than I should have been…and Mr. Snake was looking at me at only about five feet away.

So this time, I used a bit more caution. I would spot a snake, but I was content seeing it NOT move. I made mention that one of them looked dead because there was no movement. Wrong thing to say. The son found great pleasure in watching snakes jolt and scurry from a good blast of air on its back (he’d literally blow a gust of air on them to make them move) and me making my noises short of a scream of “please don’t let it come my way.”

Luckily the snakes were only seen in the swamp walk. Alligators on the other hand were where I least expected them. In the little pond by our hotel where the guests walk their pooches. I laughed when I first saw the sign, but then another guest informed us that not only are there bass, turtles and birds in the water there are gators.

Six foot gators are approximately 20 years old.

One gator reacting to the gator we jumped and he’s swimming toward second gator.

Sure enough, we finally got to see him…uhmmm them….yup two gators showed up daily. I still can’t believe there was an apartment complex on the other side of the pond and it’s obvious kids live there from seeing the power wheels vehicle parked outside. Yet, not one single resident ever showed themselves outside their apartments. So much for spending $79 to see gators at Gatorland. They were free for the looking in our backyard though probably not as entertaining. I’m glad I can say there are no such animals in my backyard in Maine. For more pics of the gators and snakes we’ve seen, go to MyMainelyGirlAdventures Facebook page.

Florida Adventures for a Maine Girl – Part II

May 19, 2016 staciwarren1 Comment

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.

American watersnake in North Bay on Great Pond

IMG_20160425_094428498 On 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-ANIMATION The 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_104600434 Our 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

May 12, 2016May 13, 2016 staciwarrenLeave a comment

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.

IMG_20160426_114525795 — 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.

May 2, 2016May 5, 2016 staciwarren1 Comment

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.

MomZackturkeyhuntcropped My 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.

100_1842 - Copy — 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.

Turkey — D55SRC_V068.C01031.061__FG=1750,FT=56313,NIR=1,GM=41, EV=44,PY=24,DY=52,GB=0x80,SG=0xc,EL=1045,AEY=164,VC=255,VT=0

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.

Sharing Fishing Secrets

April 15, 2016May 5, 2016 staciwarren2 Comments

IMG_20150515_195348036 — Salmon caught on a Grey Ghost

As a sportsman, one of the most important things you can do is share your knowledge. We constantly are told to share our knowledge. Take a kid fishing. Keep the traditions and heritage of hunting and fishing alive by getting people involved. Yet there is a paradox to that when it comes to fishing. Fisherman clam up when you ask them for advice. They pride themselves on their secret lures, techniques, lines, and spots. It’s almost a given not to ask a fisherman what he’s using for a fly because he probably won’t tell you. It’s always been my beef, so every chance I get, if someone asks, “what are you using?” I tell them with a smile and honesty.

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My fly boxes. (c) S. Warren

Sometimes fisherman lie to other fisherman. This happened to us in New Hampshire when we fished Echo Lake a couple years ago. We ran into two old Maine fishermen and we had seen them catch fish after fish. So as they left, we asked them what they were using. They seemed nice enough, but after spending an hour or so using the fly they recommended, we decided we had been had because those fish wouldn’t hit it even once. After we changed to another fly, we had luck.

IMG_20150822_165343521 — Up river at my favorite fishing spot. (c) S. Warren

Same thing at our favorite fishing spot. A fisherman came in and nudged me out of my spot. At the time, I hadn’t learned to stand my ground, but in a matter of a minute from taking over my spot, I watched this guy haul in the THE biggest salmon I’ve ever seen. And you guessed it. I didn’t dare ask what he had used. The cardinal rule prevented me from asking. So I didn’t learn anything except that I couldn’t catch what he did.

So when we run into fisherman that not only want to talk about fishing, but also want to share their “secrets”, it’s refreshing. We had the pleasure of going to a local discount store because they had just gotten in a huge fishing assortment. As we grazed the isles an old man dressed in a red flannel shirt, jeans, and wearing a bear claw necklace approached us. His head held a very old wide-brimmed, woven hat, and he walked with a walking stick as tall as him. His face was covered in a full white beard and his voice soft. As we walked by, the old man started sharing his stories. He was an old Maine guide who used to trap the Allagash in his younger days. He’s 87 now and can’t do much, but he can fish. He asked if we had ever been to Seboomook Campground by Pittston Farms. We had indeed been there. He proceeded to tell us what we need to use in order to catch the BIG salmon. The funny part was that as he got to the part of the story telling us what streamer to use, he stopped. His voice got low, and he said, “I’m waiting for that young man to leave” nodding to the man a few feet down the isle who had apparently been listening intently. After the man left, he looked into my eyes and said, “Grizzly King”.

IMG_20160409_093018453

Then he told us about Little Pond and how to catch big trout there. Turns out Little Pond is well known and our two sons went there last year. When the oldest heard about our conversation with the old Maine Guide, we decided we had to get to Little Pond to try fishing.

IMG_20160409_093026624_HDR — Our two sons in the canoe.

It was cold and windy, but the sun shining on us was nice since it had been about a week since we had seen Old Sol. Little Pond doesn’t allow motorized anything so we hauled our two canoes down the nice trail to the launch area. There we met a fisherman who was also fishing, rowing a boat around the lake with his fancy made fly rods. He even called us over to see his rods. But he wasn’t interested in sharing how he fishes. He was interested in getting compliments for everything he said about himself. We didn’t learn anything from him except that the rod he makes is probably way out of our price range.

We didn’t have any luck catching fish using the old Maine Guide’s technique, but we did get cold. As we were paddling back to the launch area, we met a local man and his Corgi dog. He was just FULL of information and amazingly, he couldn’t wait to share it with us.

After telling us we needed lead core line, big minnows and a lot of patience we found that a lot of what the old Maine Guide told us was similar to what this man shared except the old Maine Guide used a streamer and the local man used an artificial lure.

We’ve learned a lot about fishing in the last two weeks from people who were willing to share their secrets. I hope that if you are a fisherman, you’ll take a moment and share your secret instead of keeping it to yourself. You’ll find it’s much more gratifying .

TBT: Turkey Hunting 2003- John’s Turn

March 31, 2016April 1, 2016 staciwarrenLeave a comment

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.

PICT0682 — 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.

IMG_20160314_202805550(1) — 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

March 24, 2016March 24, 2016 staciwarren2 Comments

100_0810 — 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.

IMG_20160314_203116608 — 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.

IMG_20160323_224202879 — 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.

Spring 2009 014 — 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.

Otter Pond supper

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.

478300_3381915460260_1432194090_o — 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.

IMG_20150711_200025970_HDR

Sunset on East Carry and fly fishing the hatch. ❤

TBT: Fishing the Serpentine

If you read my stories, you’d think I was born and raised with a fly rod in my hand. The truth of the matter is that I wasn’t…

March 17, 2016 staciwarren2 Comments

M+boatsvsbirds+4+copy — Serpentine Stream 2013. Staff photo by Michael G. Seamans, Central Maine Newspapers

If you read my stories, you’d think I was born and raised with a fly rod in my hand. The truth of the matter is that I wasn’t, and I wasn’t even a very good fisherman for a long time. I don’t think I caught my first fish until I was at least 13 years old, and when I finally caught a fish it was a yellow perch using a worm and red-n-white bobber.

IMG_20160314_180829108 — An old Polaroid Instant photo of Zack, Mom and Becky posing under the big pine tree with a nice bass that Zack caught at the camp lot . circa 1991. (c) S. Warren

My parents had a camp lot (no camp) on Serpentine Stream in Smithfield, Maine. Each summer we’d camp, fish and cook by the campfire. Back then (and probably still now) we didn’t swim in the stream because the bottom was too slimy, and there were sticks and clams to contend with, so fishing was pretty much the only thing to do to keep a kid busy. The stream was pretty full of algae and the catch consisted of bass, pickerel, sunfish, and yellow and white perch. Occasionally we’d see a water snake or a turtle, both which waned any urge to try to to swim in the stream no matter how hot it seemed. The stream now also has crappy thanks to the illegal dumping of the non-native fish, which at one point almost wiped out the white perch.

IMG_20160314_202554335 — My daughter fishing at the camp lot..concentrating on the reeling. circa 1989 (c) S. Warren

I never seemed to be able to catch anything except the tall pine’s bough that hung out over the water and still grows where I stood to cast. All of my siblings fished and caught fish pretty darned near every time they threw in the line. I would spend hours watching my bobber dance on the water, but never could set the hook to pull in a fish. Good thing I wasn’t a reader or I probably never would have picked up a fishing pole again, but since I enjoy doing things over sitting still, I continued to try.

IMG_20160302_202452085 — Author and oldest son Zack fishing with her silver Shakespeare that she still owns and fishes with on Serpentine Stream, Smithfield, ME. Circa 1989. (c) S. Warren

Once John and I had kids of our own, we took the kids to the camp lot on Serpentine Stream to fish for the first of many times. My parents spent weekends at the camp lot so it became a Sunday tradition to pack up the kids, meet my parents at camp, and have Sunday breakfast over the campfire. It is here that I taught my kids how to fish.

IMG_20160314_202919514 — Youngest son with Dad catching his first small mouth bass on Serpentine Stream. (c) S. Warren

The camp lot and stream has been the place where most of the kids in our families learned to fish. Throughout the years, we’d bring the kids to fish after work. It’s still a great place for a kid to catch a fish, especially in the spring when the white perch are running and for bass fishing in the summer. My brother built a camp further down on Serpentine and his two boys are avid fisherman. In one afternoon, they caught “between 12 – 15 fish that were over 3 lbs”! Fishing runs deep in the family. My other nephew, Chris, even ice fished on the Serpentine this winter!

11222519_869381709810948_4925179925937835247_n — Nephew Brady caught this 5 lb. 5 oz. largemouth bass on Serpentine Stream in 2015. photo credit: Brady’s Dad (c) B. Shields

10474059_10203213461130694_2098359459_o — My nephew Chris with a black crappy from the Serpentine. “He caught pickerel, crappy, smallmouth bass, and yellow perch! Lots of fish! Mom navigated, but says she needs to get in on the action next time!” photo credit: W. Shields

A lot has changed over the years. Serpentine Stream is now called Serpentine waterway (not by me); East Pond is sometimes referred to as East Lake (not by me) by those trying to market it to campers from away, and there’s now an Ice Cream Place in the town village that draws customers in boats down the stream from East Pond.

boat_serving — photo credit: Ice Cream Place Smithfield ME

According to an article in the local newspaper, “speeding boats have wiped out the algae”and “speeding boaters and jet skiers along the Serpentine waterway also were unwittingly threatening a comeback of the Sandhill crane, a species that recently returned to Maine after being pushed to the brink of extinction. A speed buoy was installed at both ends of the Serpentine waterway to help control boat traffic.” I wouldn’t want to endanger the Sandhill crane, but I didn’t think killing some algae was necessarily a bad thing since the last time we tried to use the boat launch at the camp lot to take our boat out, the entire trailer was blanketed in algae plants, and it us forever to get all of it off. In the age of Eurasian Watermilfoil threats and not knowing if we had it on our boat, we haven’t used the launch since, but instead use the public launch on the other end of East Pond.

bobber So April 1st kicks off the official open water season. If you don’t have a little slice of heaven on the Serpentine, try to find one, or plan a canoe trip down the Serpentine. Then buy a license and don’t forget to take a kid fishing! Maine will also offer a free weekend of fishing for adults on June 4-5, 2016 and if you still don’t have a place to take a kid fishing, the State of Maine offers many spots around Maine that with exclusive kid friendly – kid only fishing. No matter what you do be sure to get out there!

I’m thankful for the camp lot to still be in our family, and I can’t wait to take my grand kids there when they learn to fish. In the meantime, after seeing my nephew Brady’s large mouth bass, I’m planning on making a trip down the Serpentine to see if I can catch what he’s been catching!

Spring Mud Makes Maple Syrup

March 9, 2016 staciwarrenLeave a comment

Spring is a season that I can’t wait to be over. March brings on mud season. I hate mud. I don’t want to walk in it, drive in it or have it in my house. It’s usually too gross to be in the woods once the snow is gone, but until the snow goes, it’s prime maple sapping time.

John started making maple syrup a few years ago to spend time with our oldest son. This soon became a time spent with the youngest son (pictured above). Now it’s my turn. This is the first year that I’ve helped put taps in the trees and checked on the sap buckets, and helped with the boiling process. I’m learning a lot even though I’ve been a spectator for many years. We don’t have a lot of fancy equipment or complicated setups; just some pails, tree taps and nails to hang the bucket.

Before the season even began, John found a couple dead maples to cut, split and stack by the fire pit. The fully dry wood makes for a really hot fire. The fire has to be constantly tended so that it stays hot, and the boiling sap watched so that it doesn’t burn.

Maple syrup season begins when it’s freezing at night and warm during the day. The sap will run until there’s no longer a swing in temps from night and day. We’ve only had our taps out for a week and a half, but the first day we got six gallons of sap. Then came a couple fully cold days followed by rain so no sap flowed. Today Maine broke a record and hit 65 degrees. And the sap flowed again. After collecting sap, John had it the lobster pots and boiling before I even drove in the driveway from work.

In no time, he had boiled down all the sap we had collected today and added it to the sap he had boiled down on Sunday. Once it reaches a small enough amount and is gold honey colored, we bring it inside and finish the boil down process on the stove. Once the syrup reaches a full rolling boil and closes in the center, the syrup is ready to be poured through a filter into a jar.

This part is tricky so not to overfill the filter and not burn yourself. I held the filter and watched for over pour as John poured syrup. We had to alternate the filters because they get plugged with sugar sand or the syrup cools so that it flows slower through the filter. We ended up with a full quart of syrup. This will be great to enjoy at breakfast on Easter and Christmas, hopefully in the company of our kids.

I have a feeling our sap season won’t be long this year. That’s okay, because I just started getting my water alerts for the river levels on the Dead River…and that means fly fishing season will be here soon…hopefully sooner if they ever drop the river. In the meantime, I’ll tolerate the mud with some fly tying, and I’ll enjoy my chaga tea with a little bit of maple syrup. Yum!

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TBT: My First Turkey Hunt

March 3, 2016March 3, 2016 staciwarrenLeave a comment

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!

Turkey no 2 — 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_HDR John 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_203726142 Within 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.

IMG_20150504_111820520 — 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.

Learning in My Down Time

February 28, 2016February 29, 2016 staciwarrenLeave a comment

FLY2 Almost two weeks ago, I was out in the woods getting my mind clear, looking for antlers and trudging through some pretty deep snow when my foot fell deep through a snow covered brush pile. I fell flat on my face; my .22 barrel drove into the ground, and I got this incredible burning pain in my left knee. My foot had become lodged so that when I fell, there was no give, and the knee took the brunt of the fall. After a few curse words I got up and walked out, but the knee was incredibly stiff and sore. By the next day, I could barely walk on it and I feared the worst. What I don’t need is a torn ACL since I’m already the candidate for a knee replacement and with fishing season beginning in about a month, the last thing I want to do is be sidelined when I should be casting my fly rod. A trip to the doctor and I was told no torn ligament, just a good knee sprain that needs rest.

IMG_20160115_234938 — My new fly tying kit. It came with some supplies but I also got a lot more separate items.

So what to do in the meantime? I decided that I was finally going to put my down time to good use and learn how to tie some of the flies I most often use. Before I ever got hurt, I had decided I wanted to learn how to tie flies. Besides the fact that we spend a lot of money on flies, I have this sense of pride that I can do anything I set my mind to, and especially if it means I’m going to save money. I mean A LOT of money… every time we hit L.L. Bean, Cabelas, Pinkham’s in North Anson, Sandy River General in New Sharon, or Jack’s in Farmington to name a few, I never seem to get out of any of these stores before I’ve spent at least $20 in flies. It’s like an addiction…I love having all my fly boxes full with several of each kind of fly because we’ve all lost a favorite fly that is the only one catching fish. John, Tyler and Zack have all owned fly tying kits and all of them know how to tie flies, so this winter I bought my very own fly tying kit and stocked up on supplies. This cost me a good $100 even with the fly tying kit being on sale, but I figured I’d get my money back in no time. The average cost of a fly is $2.25 so I need to make about 45 flies in order to break even on my out of pocket expense and not buy any more supplies or flies or I’ll be in the hole.

“NO PROBLEM”…In my mind I’d soon be cranking out the flies and waiting to get a call for my work.

Being able to tie flies can’t be that hard. I’m naturally good with my hands, and I’m not afraid to use them. I’ve sewn wedding dresses. I can build with wood and have had lots of experience. I can paint. I can tile. I can make things…I am freaking awesome when it comes to doing stuff like this….how hard can it be to tie a fly?

A hell of a lot harder than I imagined!

What I failed to calculate is the learning curve. I am a perfectionist which probably doesn’t help. I want it to be perfect the first time. I want it to look like the flies we buy. If only I didn’t feel like no matter which way I turn the vise, I have two left hands and neither one of them is talking to the other one. My first fly attempt is a Hare’s Ear nymph. This is what they’re supposed to look like.

IMG_20160228_212746709 These were hot last year and since there were no bugs, these nymphs were the only thing catching salmon. Dubbing sounds harmless enough, but it’s a nightmare to work with. Dubbing is dyed rabbit fur. It’s used to make the bump on the nymph…How much, how thin, too thin, too thick..gahhh! It seems like the harder I tried to make it look clean, the worse it looked.

IMG_20160118_104614003 — Feeling confident! (c)SWarren

IMG_20160118_105300750 — Before dubbing was applied. (c) SWarren

IMG_20160118_110007866 — Please let this be over!

IMG_20160228_213107105 - Copy — My first two Hare’s Ear Nymphs. A big learning curve!

My second fly is a green Woolly Bugger, a fluffy fly that when wet resembles a fish. I emphasize fluffy as I think half of the marabou feathers got sucked up my nose when I tried to get what I needed for the fly. I also made a black one. Add a Hare’s ear nymph to it and you’ve got a great combination for catching brook trout and salmon. I wasn’t as disappointed with the Woolly Bugger as the Hare’s Ear Nymph, but I know that all I need is practice.

Finished Green Woolly Bugger

Finished Black Woolly Bugger

What it’s supposed to look like photo credit: paflyfish.com

photo credit: orvis.com

So just like fly fishing, I will need to take baby steps. My return on investment may not happen until next year, but I’ll try not to be so hard on myself and try to remind myself that every expert was once a beginner.

expert

Feeding Winter Deer

February 15, 2016 staciwarren2 Comments

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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_151052 Each 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?

buck There 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

February 8, 2016 staciwarren2 Comments

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_o Later 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.

IMG_20160206_141812545 — 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!

IMG_20160130_130515099_HDR — 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.

IMG_20160206_135323040 - Copy — 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.

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.

IMG_20160206_141822956 — 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.