There’s always a sure way of knowing that spring is really coming, and that’s when I start spotting pussy willows as I drive to work. I often hear friends say they can never find any.
Well, I’m here to tell you that you really can’t miss them once you know where to look. The hardest part about spotting pussy willows is not being able to pick them off someone’s lawn…nope can’t do that. Since I haven’t got up the courage to ask and know that I can find them elsewhere, I just respect their land and move on…but I still sigh every time I drive by!
I’ve spent a good amount of time looking and some of the best and biggest pussy willows I’ve ever found have been in the city. You read right…the city. The The key is to pick them before they turn green, and you want willow trees…not poplar tree blossoms which look somewhat like a pussy willow.
Every year, John and I pick an enormous bunch of them to keep in the house. One year, we found the mother load of gigantic pussy willows and picked a bunch. The following year, we went back only to find that the owner of the property had wiped it clean of the willow trees, and put up a big old warehouse. Knowing that there had to be more somewhere in the city, I went to work scanning the for-sale lots in my travels.
Score! At an industrial park, where land is for sale, I managed to spot some pussy willows. They didn’t appear too big from the road, but once we were up close, they were huge! They literally looked like cat paws…or rabbit paws…just a really awesome find. It’s amazing how much land right next to the highway is accessible and I’ve seen several people picking pussy willows in the same spot each year. Just know that the bigger ones are where no one’s picked yet.
So with the cold that’s been sticking around, the pussy willows haven’t bloomed out as quick as I expected they would…but the season is coming to a close. In fact, since these rains, the willows are getting too far gone as the leaves are trying to come out.
These green buds are much more easy to spot…take note for next year. You’ll want to remember where you saw them come spring. Don’t forget to take the kids along for some outdoor time and a great time to learn about the woods.
Our first week of baiting season proved successful…or at least for John’s bait. He not only had hits from big bears, but he had early hits so his chances of seeing a bear before dark looked promising. My bait had no hits.
Just at dark
Just after dark set in.
The second week of baiting, we both got bears. I finally had a sow and cubs on my site and John continued to have big bears and more bears on his site…and no sow and cubs.
During shooting hours…skinny momma
Momma getting some grease while cub looks on
Week three was a bonanza for my site. I had several bears, a set of boars, a couple single boar sightings and one bear possibly a dry sow that I recognize from last year, and of course the sow and cubs. They sow and cubs were and still are the most frequent visitors.
I’ve been hunting and next week, I’ll let you know what’s been happening…until then, I hope your baits are getting bears!
One of the great things about living in Maine is that there is always something to do. Foraging for wild mushrooms has become the thing to do when fishing or hunting isn’t on the schedule. I love getting out into the woods and really seeing the woods from a different perspective. The woods in the spring look different from the summer and fall, and part of foraging is spent looking for deer and other critter sign as well as mushroom identification, which will help me determine where to hunt come deer season.
Normally we don’t forage where we hunt, i.e. at home. We’re usually up north fishing or bear hunting, and so we forage where we camp. A couple weekends ago, our plans changed. The weather wasn’t looking great and so we decided to stay home. On a whim, I wanted to take a walk and check for mushrooms in our neck of the woods.
Boy oh boy, we’ve been missing out! Last year we scored our first Chanterelles ever up north. We’ve made several trips to “our secret spot” to pick them this year, but the yield has been far less than last year. Little did we know that we had them in our woods! Not only did we pick Chanterelles, but we scored on the ever elusive, not-so-elusive-if-you-know-where-to-pick, Black Trumpets. In fact, we almost stepped on them! You need to look where you’re going when you hunt for Black Trumpets. Once we spotted them, they seemed to be everywhere! Every time my husband or I would find a bunch, we’d yell “Bingo!” with the sound of excitement, and it never got old hearing the music of finding Trumpets.
Not only did we find Black Trumpets, we hit the mother load! In just three short pickings, we harvested over 30 pounds of these delights. I read that these mushrooms sell for $35 to $40 per pound…but we’re keeping them. I’ve also shared with family and friends so they could try them, and I hope to still pick more before the season of Trumpets ends.It turns out Trumpets grow in oaks, and that’s precisely what we have. Now don’t get excited…our oaks are off limits to foragers and hunters alike, but there are plenty of oaks and beeches in Maine, and I’ve seen many foragers scoring big this year. I guess all the rain we’ve been getting does have its benefits.
I dried them, I sauteed and froze them, and of course, we ate them. They are as good as the mushroom experts claim.
I’m hoping I’ll be putting those mushrooms on burgers, in gravy with moose steak, and in soups and rabbit pot pies. I’ve never used dried mushrooms, so this is a new adventure for me.
It’s not quite time to begin the bear season, so I’ll be fly fishing and foraging more. Stay tuned; I still haven’t found the elusive-to-me, Chicken of the Woods, Shaggy Mane or Hedgehog mushrooms. I hope the music doesn’t stop just yet…I sure do love those Trumpets!
For more information about edible mushrooms you can search for in Maine, I suggest getting a good guide and checking out this website. Remember to never eat a mushroom that you cannot identify.
So I’ve been out searching for mushrooms and figured, what better place to look than right at work. There are several well maintained trails that I can walk. High school runners compete on these very trails every fall during cross country season. The woods are perfect for mushrooms, i.e., they’re not really healthy. There’s lots of fallen wood, dead wood and sick wood as much as there is really big wood. Healthy woods don’t produce great mushrooms, or at least the ones that grow on sick trees…so this place feels like a bonanza. There are literally mushrooms growing along the trail, in the woods and in the gullies where water runs off.
I haven’t ventured out into the trails until this week. I didn’t have any mosquito protection, and no tick protection either, so I would have been more apprehensive except that I had my sneakers on. I was all set to venture off the trail. I had to keep a lookout for the poison ivy that would appear out of nowhere.
Last year, I entered one of the trails and swore I heard a deer blow, but never saw it.
Today, I entered the lower entrance of the Porcupine trail. As I walked, I kept thinking I was hearing something walking in the woods off to my right. The only thing I was able to spot was a blue jay flying from the ground to the tree. It must be the blue jay? No squirrels, which are notorious for making noise in the woods, were to be seen anywhere. My footsteps were almost unheard. The bark mulch and pine needle trails dampened the sounds of my walking. What was it?!
I made my way around the loop, but kept hearing the sound. Still I saw nothing. I decided to retake the loop, only the upper loop this time in the opposite direction. The wind was in my favor. As I rounded the corner, there she stood, totally unaware that I was there. She was busy looking for left over acorns from last year. Her beautiful orange coat glistened in the sun. She was small, but appeared healthy.
It took a few tries, but finally I was able to get her attention. She watched cautiously. I admired her, but didn’t move. She went back to her eating, and I went on my way. I scored a few mushrooms and saw a deer. It was a good day for a walk.
Do you ever hear footsteps in the woods?
By the way, no hunting allowed here, so all I can do is dream about hunting deer on my walks.
It’s been an better-than-average spring thus far for fishing the Dead River. We’ve fished it enough to learn what to use when, and have worked our way up from not catching anything to catching pretty often. Unlike last year, this year, it’s been a bonanza as we’ve been very successful in the spring catch of landlocked salmon and native brook trout. Knowing what to use is the key to catching fish.
Fishing the Dead River can be frustrating. If it’s down at night, it could be high in the morning because often times the river levels are determined by the white water rafting schedules. I keep the release dates bookmarked on my phone so I can check to see if the river will rise. If it does, it doesn’t drop until 1 p.m. “They say” the best fishing is right after the drop. Honestly, the best fishing is first thing in the morning before they open the dam, and at night when the mayflies hatch or when the fish are feeding just before sunset. This coincides when fish usually feed.
One Sunday, as soon as the river dropped, the trucks poured in. Men in their waders grabbed spots quicker than I could get my waders on despite the fact the water wasn’t even fish-able yet. My mistake. So as I got ready to fish, there was ONE spot open on the island…one spot that was also one of my favorites. As I got ready to cross onto the island, a guy fishing to the left looked over his shoulder and quickly scooted into the spot I had eyed for myself. I was annoyed, but there was still one spot left on the far right near the rapids, IF I could get there first. I quickly changed direction and tried to get over there as quick as I could.
As I made my way across the pools and around to the end, I notice a hatch taking place. I felt like I as being invaded by tiny blue-green bugs and they floated and flew all around me. Some type of mayfly, but to me it didn’t matter. I had my sinking line on my rod that I use with nymphs. There was no chance I was going back to change my lines since this was my ace in the hole, and the only spot open.
I pulled out my dry fly box and retrieved a Blue Wing Olive and tied it onto my tippet (the end of my line). I made my way to my spot. The guy fishing where I originally wanted to fish was throwing his line about half way down to me on my left. Perfect. I’d fish more to the left and have access to the deeper water and where the fish were jumping on my right. Meanwhile another fisherman came up and started fishing behind me in the large pool. I kept thinking, “Please don’t hook me”.
I took a couple casts to get the hang of the sinking line with the lure. The lure would float at first, then quickly sink from the weight of the line and the fast current. I took a third cast and landed a small 10 inch salmon. I let it go. The fish were jumping, so I concentrated on placing my fly above the jumps and drifting the fly toward the fish. My confidence was building…I cast again. On the fifth cast, just as my fly started to sink, I got a hit!
The hit was so hard and strong that fish began to run and fight, and the line was stripping out of my hand that was holding the line. As I began reeling in my excess line, the entire reel fell off my rod!!!! Luckily I was still holding onto it! I tried for a brief moment to put it back on, but a one-handed attempt was asking to lose the fish I had fighting at the end of my line. I quickly stuffed the reel into my waders so I was once again using two hands to fight this fish.
I finally got the line stripped back in so that I could net my beast. He was huge! It’s the biggest salmon I’ve ever caught. The net barely held it. Its tail hung out and in one giant flop, he was out of the net again. After netting the fish a second time: this time holding onto the tail through the net, and schlepping all my gear and line out of the deep water, I blurted out to the guy fishing behind me that I had caught my biggest fish ever. He seemed undaunted. The girl on shore with the cell phone trying to get reception (LMAO- as if) looked at me like I was a crazed woman. The guy off to my left was now changing out his fly/lure…lol.
I was elated, and at that point, I decided I wasn’t stopping until I got my fish on the tailgate of the truck so I gave up my spot and headed up. I killed my fish, (which is really humane) and set him on the tailgate. I tried to take a selfie but my arm wasn’t long enough and the fish was too big!
To my surprise, NO ONE had taken my spot in the ten minutes I took to deliver my fish to the truck. I headed back down and reclaimed my spot. Three casts later I was hauling in my second largest fish I’ve ever caught. I was so excited. The kid fishing behind me now had questions and was offering up his help to keep this fish in my net. What are you using? What are you catching? Where should I cast? The guy to my left was still changing out his flies. Me, I was on Cloud 9! Worst part was that hubby had made his way up the upper pool and had no idea I was slamming the fish.
I gave up my spot. I had my two limit salmon and the kid behind me was dying to try my spot. I gave him a few pointers before I left. The guy who had been fishing on my left…left.
I took my fish up the truck and laid it next to the first one. Fish number one measured 21.5 inches, and fish number two measured 19.5 inches. A number of people who showed up to fish just as I was trying to take pictures of my fish had lots of questions. It felt great to share my experience…and to see the little glean of envy from the men. It’s not often I get to catch a big one, let alone two, so it felt wonderful.
So all those guys thought they had the best spot, but I was the one who had the best catch. Lesson learned. There’s fish everywhere…you just have to know how to catch em…
Happy Fishing and always remember to share your knowledge, and to be a courteous fisherman.
I absolutely love turkey hunting. It was the first hunt I ever tried, and was the hunt that got me hooked on hunting. Each year, I usually bag my turkey on the first day, so this year, I expected nothing less.
Two weeks before the season started, turkeys showed up in our horse pasture daily. We could sit on the back deck and listen to the gobbles in the woods. A slam of a car door and the bark of a dog would send gobbles throughout the woods.
Logitech bluetooth speaker
One of many turkey calling apps for phones
The Friday before open season, I went down to my closest treestand. I brought along a Bluetooth speaker and hung it in a nearby tree with the volume cranked. The speaker amplified my turkey calls I had downloaded on my phone. I climbed into my treestand and opened up the turkey call application. A push of the “Turkey Cackle 1” and I had an answer. Gobbles nearby on my left.
I played it again. Another response on my right!
Before I knew it, I had three jakes and a hen approaching on my right. The hen was actually chasing after the three jakes to keep up.
They were confused. Where is that hen? The turkeys walked by and once out of sight, I gave another call. They answered, came back and circled around me. The leading jake is almost fully mature, and he began to do his strut dance followed by a gobble. They weren’t alarmed since they continued to scratch and peck the ground as they moved.
As the turkeys circled me, they still didn’t know I was in the treestand. Off to my right a second gobbler also answered my call. I was having a blast!
Finally the two groups of birds found each other, and I no longer mattered. They all headed away from me. Silence. Once they were gone, I climbed out my treestand and went back to the house.
Sunday, the day before the season opened, I headed back to my treestand. I used my same method of calling with the Bluetooth, but got no response. I covered a large amount of ground trying to call in a turkey while also checking my two game cameras. Just when I was about to give up, I got a response on the far end of the woods. They were still in the area! I quickly turned around and walked away.
Opening day and it was pouring. Pouring and my hunting partner was in no mood to venture out into it. By 2 p.m., the rain seemed to stop until we actually stepped out of the house. It was just a few intermittent showers to keep us moving, but listening for gobbles was not easy.
We tried calling. No answers. We made a big circle and got to where I heard turkeys the day before. They weren’t responding to the mouth call John was using, so he took out the slate call and gave a try.
Instantly we had cackling, but no gobbling. We quickly set up the decoys and waited. No more replies, no responses and no gobbling. Did they see us? Did we scare them off? Did they hear us? Perhaps I need to bring my Bluetooth next time…
Obviously they didn’t fall for our attempts to call them in.
We never heard any more turkeys the remainder of the hunt.
Silence. Nothing but silence. Let’s hope a couple days of rest and rain and they’ll come back and be ready for some gobbles. I have more tricks up my sleeve, so I’m not ready to throw in the towel just yet.
Few years back when I went turkey hunting with John and my oldest son, Zack.