outdoors – Page 3 – My Mainely Girl Adventures

Skunked by the Deer

December 22, 2015December 22, 2015 staciwarren1 Comment

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

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

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

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

IMG_20151123_080428846 John got a nice buck so we’re not meatless this winter, and we won’t totally break the piggy bank buying meat. I’m counting on rabbit hunting to bring in some more. We’re totally in love with our rabbit pot pies and I have a freezer full of them for winter.

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

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

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

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

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

Deer Season Begins!

November 11, 2015November 11, 2015 staciwarren1 Comment

IMG_20151108_164443021 — Fireplace chase half skim coated for rock to be applied after. (c) S. Warren

Deer season began as it always does; a bunch of promising game photos, a night of no sleep, and excitement that I’ll be successful. This year’s season also includes us trying to do a DIY project involving installing a fireplace, applying mortar and stone to the outside, and getting it all done before the cold really hits and somehow making it work around the hunting season. We’re doing well, but we still have a lot to do.

IMG_20151109_062327134 — View from My Stand (c) S. Warren

I usually sit in My Stand right behind the house. This works for getting out and hunting each morning prior to my heading to work. It’s quick to get to and to get back. In past years, I’ve had some pretty awesome moments, and I expected to hear the deer in their travels as I always have. This year’s acorn crop is pretty small. I had hoped that my acorn stand would yield more deer this year because a nearby woodlot was cut making the oaks less abundant. Unfortunately, it’s not looking very good.

For the first time ever, I’m changing up my sitting spots. I have four spots: My Stand, the Robin Stand, the Buddy Stand, the New Stand, and a couple more options: the duck blind spot and the Tall Hemlock. The Robin stand is half way between my stand and the Buddy stand. Last year, I saw five does in this stand. We moved it so that I could see more and have more cover. I haven’t sat there yet because I need to add some foam to the rails to make it quiet and I just haven’t had time.

The Buddy stand is just that. It’s a double stand in an area that’s big and wide. This is the stand I was in on last year’s final day of muzzleloader season when Mr. Buck showed me a glimpse of his leg before hightailing it out of there. The one and only deer I’ve seen in that stand. I’ve played and replayed that day in my mind for the last year, hoping that Mr. Buck would still like to hang out and make some buck rubs and give me another shot at getting him. Things have been awfully quiet for me to believe he’s still around.

The New Stand is in a spot that takes me thirty minutes to get to, so it’s not feasible for weekday hunts unless it’s a holiday or vacation day. It’s not that far away, but walking into a stand in the still morning requires every step to be intentional and methodically placed so that you don’t break or snap a twig, so that the leaves done crunch, so that you don’t land on your face by tripping over the long grass, so that you get in undetected, and that’s not always easy. The stand sits on the edge of oaks and a dark softwood growth. Lots of deer sign and buck scrapes but it feels pretty dead most of the time…except when I least expect it.

I’ve been chasing deer in the area since I started hunting. The elusive big buck that I either jump or get busted yet never see. And this would be the case this year. My first time to the new stand that John put up for me. I usually go with him, but this day, we were going separate ways to get more done. Since my stand was pretty dead, I decided to try out the “new stand. John’s words exactly, ” Go straight, don’t turn right and it will be on your right. You’ll have NO problem finding it.” Now I know this neck of the woods, but after forty-five minutes of roaming around checking out every off shoot road, I finally found it. In fact, I stumbled upon it and then wondered if I’d be able to find my way out at dark. By then, I was a wash of sweat, possibly the result of cursing for the last hour. I had overdressed for that much walking, but was relieved to finally find my stand.

IMG_20151106_072633647 — Buck scrape (c) S. Warren

I wasn’t in my stand five minutes when I thought I heard a deer blow…which means it smelled me. I was busted. I heard the deer bound away. Legal shooting hours ended and I managed to find my way out. I was glad I had my flashlight because although I consider this a morning stand so I was surprised to hear a deer in the late afternoon. I have learned to be more comfortable in the woods, I have no intentions of getting lost.

This morning I had the opportunity to sit later due to the holidaym so I headed back down to the New Stand. Due to a back injury flare up from working on the DIY project, I hadn’t had a chance to hunt in two days so I was hoping my sciatica wouldn’t start in once I sat down. I quietly made my way down to stand. I managed to leave later than I wanted so by the time I was half way there, it was already starting to get light, but wasn’t close to legal shooting hours yet. I shut off my flashlight since I’ve memorized this trail and know where to step.

As I made my way toward my stand, I think I hear a grunt…a deer grunt…a BUCK grunt…Brrrr. I question whether I really heard what I think I’ve heard. Afterall, I have an uncanny way of hearing things that sound like a deer walking in the woods, but it ends up being a squirrel or falling leaves. So I doubt myself. Rule number one: never doubt yourself!

I take one more step and then I hear it. A deer blows and all I see is a white tail VERY close to me. The wind is blowing in my favor. I was too close for him to smell me; he just heard me and reacted. Between me and Mr. Buck is a really large boulder. This is concealing me from him, and him from me, not to mention it’s still too dark to shoot. I can’t pick him up in my scope. I scan the woods knowing he isn’t very far way…maybe 25 yards. I decide I’ll make my way to the boulder for a chance to sneak up on him. I duck and take one step. He blows, stomps his feet and blows a couple more times. In an effort to have him want to stick around, I blow a Brrr on my buck grunt. He gets incredibly upset and wheezes and snorts three or four more turns. I in turn stomp my foot as he was doing to me. It’s a stand off, but it’s still dark. If only can get him to step my way. He continues to blow and then without any other warning, runs away from me…gone forever. I just pray I don’t hear a sudden shot from someone lucking out on My Buck.

I had a blast, but as always I analyze, reanalyze, and then shoulda, woulda, coulda scenarios run through my head. In the end, I am learning and experiencing things I never thought possible. I’ve seen a porcupine in a tree, an owl trying to catch squirrels at daylight, partridge walking around, ducks and geese flying overhead. I hear screech owls howling, loons calling and of course squirrels…lots and lots of those dang red and gray squirrels. And not once have I been afraid to be alone in the woods, and that’s my biggest and proudest moment thus far.

I hope I’ll eventually see a deer that I can harvest. Time is ticking but in the meantime, I’m enjoying every minute I’m out there. Lots of exercise and experiencing lots of exciting moments. After all, it’s the adventures you have in the process that make hunting so rewarding.

Happy Hunting!

Learning to Archery Hunt-Patience and Persistance Revisited

October 22, 2015October 23, 2015 staciwarren2 Comments

parker bow — This is what my bow looks like.

ZackPibold — My oldest son’s pibold, taken with a bow. (c) S. Warren

In order to evolve as a hunter, I’ve taken on the task of learning how to bow hunt. I am the only one in the family who hadn’t tried bow hunting, because I didn’t have a bow…until my youngest son dropped over $800 on a new one. I inherited the grow-with-you Parker bow that we had bought him for Christmas a few years ago. I am fine with that since I am cheap, and a tune up is definitely cheaper than a new bow. After finally getting a proper fitting and a tune up at L.L.Bean, my bow is now officially ready to use to hunt.My dream is to get a buck. A big one…maybe even a pibold like the one my son got a few years ago.

I was thinking this was going to be easy-peasy-deer-in-the-pot, but I soon found out that couldn’t be further from the truth. Reality check in process!

I know your’e thinking, “Can this girl even hit the target?” Yes, I can hit the target, and given the chance, I might actually be able to take a deer with it. I bought some broad head points for a lethal shot, and lighted knocks so that I can find my arrow after I shoot it, if I ever get to take aim. On my first trip out, I was very optimistic and thought I’d have a deer in no time.

After spending so much time bear hunting in ‘real” wilderness, hunting behind the house is painful, but it’s helping me adjust to the noise in case I do go to the city. I really do live in the country, but I also live along two major routes that intersect at the bottom of the hill..oh yay…cars, trucks, motorcycles, dump trucks, tractor trailer trucks…all going by. Add wind, rattling leaves, barking dogs, construction, mowers and you have the idea. I even bought the Expanded Archery license in case I need to go hunt in the city for a deer where I can harvest a doe and still be able to harvest a buck behind the house. The benefit of the expanded archery season is that it goes until December 31st, past the last Saturday in the November of the rifle season and it’s a two week extension into muzzleloader season. I’ve shot deer with a muzzleloader in the past, but if all else fails I’ll be hunting in the city. My plan is to have some deer meat in the freezer this year one way or another!

Hunting with a bow is much more challenging than I realized it would be. It’s not the bow itself, but all the gadgets, and the odd shaped size that turns my stealthy walk into my stand into a clumsy wobble into my stand. I think I managed to catch every stick, limb, fern and leaf possible with the cams of the bow in my travels. Trying to climb into my stand with a bow in my hand is stupid to say the least. Yes, I tried it, and I made more noise than I thought possible..and it was daylight! I can’t ever imagine trying this in the dark before daylight.

BowRelease — My new release to pull the string on my bow. It folds back to be “out of the way” which is a total advertising lie. It’s still very much attached to my wrist and makes noise no matter how I fold it.

Note to self: You can put the release on after you get in the stand so it doesn’t clink every rail of the ladder as you climb. My stand is hid among a bunch of fir, hemlock and spruce…with lots of branches that now need to be cut so I can use a rope to pull my bow up the proper way…and that darned quiver (arrow holder) is noisy too, so off that comes, but where to put it? The last thing I want is to drop that with my arrows, so I also need to put up a bow holder…and I have to fix my shooting lanes because I have none for a bow shot. My setup works for the rifle, but I need much more space to shoot a bow.

One of my main problems is that my bow hunting pants and shirt don’t offer up enough pockets for all my junk I tote along for the hunt, and I can’t throw a bow over my shoulder like my rifle. I have to have my windicator spray, deer scent and container, buck grunt, doe bleat, flashlight, phone, and on colder nights, I also need gloves, a neck warmer and a hat..and one pocket on my pants just doesn’t cut it. I have a backpack to bring, but that’s too noisy for mornings…SO I’m back to trying to store everything in my camo jacket liner.

buck grunt — Buck grunt to mimic bucks in rut.

doe bleat — Doe bleat to mimic does in heat. Calls in bucks. Anti roll edges which is new and very important…nothing to roll off the treestand.

If you’ve ever hunted in the morning, sound is amplified ten times more than in the middle of the day. Every leaf crunches, every movement makes noise, and every breath, every pulse seems to be there for you–and deer to hear…and that means every little bump, clink, swish of a leaf can be heard.

So, for now, I’ll keep you posted on my progress. I’ll need lots of persistence to get thru this clumsy phase. I’ll need lots of patience for the noise I have to contend with as I sit for what seems like hours in my treestand. There will probably be more stories of my being busted due to my clumsiness than deer success…and I will most likely switch back to my rifle in a couple weeks. For now, I’ll make sure I use my harness and hope for the best and enjoy the sit before it gets too dark and cold.

After all, it’s the adventures in the process, not just the harvest.

Preserving Maine Wilderness

October 13, 2015October 13, 2015 staciwarren1 Comment

IMG_20150926_122138814-ANIMATION — Just a small portion of the crappy road that we travel…just not at 60 mph. (c) S. Warren

It’s not often that I plan a gripe session in my blog, but this week I am compelled to gripe a little. We’ve been extremely fortunate to be given landowner permission to hunt on land an hour and a half from home. Getting there has always been half the adventure. A good portion of the road is crappy (I mean 25 mph and you’re still cringing crappy) and it needs to be repaired. We make bets on how many moose, rabbit, deer, and other wildlife we may see on our journey. The crappy road slows us down considerably to get there. But once there, it’s always been our “little piece of wilderness”. The joy of hunting remotely is the feeling that no one else is there–complete solitude. You can totally engage your thoughts in what you’re doing and unplug from the world. For me it’s a good time to cleanse the mind and enjoy the experience of being there without listening to cars, dogs, screaming kids, blaring music, or dump trucks to name a few.

In the last couple of years, we’ve seen a huge increase in the number of vehicles traveling this route. They are adorned with kayaks, canoes and bicycles..in-state vehicles too, but mostly out-of-state cars, driving like freaking mad men and women to get to their pseudo-wild destination that an organization has advertised heavily in a Maine-focused magazine that’s marketed towards the not-so-average-Mainer, but more so for the upper middle class New England Urbanites that want to “unplug” for a weekend. I’ve seen them drive the crappy road as if it was a super highway; driving at high rates of speed, passing on corners, passing on hills, and tailgating just to get to “their” spot. A number of times, we’ve simply pulled over to let them by because they won’t pass but insist on tailgating.

We’ve seen a ten-fold increase in bicyclists, despite the fact that this road is narrow, has no breakdown lanes, no bike lanes, and has hill after hill, and has blind spots throughout scattered with washouts and broken pavement. I’ve even encountered “skiers” on rolling skies who think nothing of tucking down the middle of the road and won’t get over to let you by, or who stop right in the middle of the road to chat with fellow “skiers” without so much as an eye blink when you look at them in disbelief for their inconsideration.

I’ve also noticed that this is the first summer that we didn’t see the number of moose we’re accustomed to seeing in our commute. In fact, we barely saw any wildlife all summer. We saw one moose in May (pictured above), and didn’t see another one until the very last week of September. This is more than disturbing. And I don’t think it’s a tick problem because I’ve never seen a moose in that condition in this area.

IMG_20150801_160519272 — Mowed road…seriously?! (c) S. Warren

This influx of tourists….are putting a real damper on little my piece of wilderness experience! They trample paths made accessible by the organization who’s chopped, mowed, and excavated because the trail can’t be too hard for the tourists to hike…and then the organization creates a “world class” bike trail..a trail that potentially crosses through where game travels, across water flows, wet areas, and in order to do so hack a path through the woods..oh yeah, and they nail their signs all along the road onto living trees that they don’t own. The tourists also like to yell and hoot as they enjoy their bike ride, not caring if anyone else may be bothered by it–yet it interferes with my solitude. So much for “leave no trace”.

Only once have we encountered someone face to face since we make an effort to avoid them at all cost–and what did they do? They pitched a tent IN – THE- M I D D L E of the traveled road/trail where camping isn’t even supposed to happen, and they did it all without hesitation, but instead with a sense of pride and entitlement and they with only the best-of-the-best gear that money can buy as if that somehow makes them outdoorsmen/women.Their response when we told them they can’t tent just anywhere…”We’ve done this for twenty years.”…BULL CRAP! this trail hasn’t been here that long! They acted as if we were the ones that were encroaching on their wilderness space. It may have had something to do with one of them hanging out naked by the tent, but I really don’t care. News flash back-to-nature dudes…just because you can hike on it, doesn’t mean you have the right to camp on it, cook on it, or poop on it! Is that so hard to understand? We have access to the same land, and under no circumstances would we feel as though we have a right to bring in our camper or tent and pitch it for the weekend. We have more respect for the landowner than to do that!! We have more respect for others that use this piece of land. No one even knows we’re there when we’re there, and when we leave, we leave no trace.

Don’t get me wrong. I cherish access. Access is critical to the enjoyment of Maine and what it has to offer, and we are extremely grateful for the access we’ve been given. What I do have a problem with is the commercialization of that cherished access that is threatening the Maine wilderness experience for a lot of us.

I can only wonder how many animals were missed seeing or barely avoided being hit because people were driving so fast. I can only wonder how much further north I’ll have to go in a few years to find my piece of wilderness if this continues. I can only wonder how wildlife is being affected by all this traffic and all these tourists. I can only wonder if this is a snapshot of what it would be like for the people of Mt. Katahdin area….their wilderness being sucked up, trampled on, and used without real appreciation by tourists…I can only wonder.

Maybe perhaps Acadia National Park, Baxter State Park and the Appalachian Trail provide enough commercialized abuse for Maine’s wilderness. Perhaps we don’t need to sell off our wilderness experience with yet another national park. I truly hope we don’t if this is a sign of what could or may be.

Bear Season Ends and All I Get Are Moons

October 6, 2015October 8, 2015 staciwarrenLeave a comment

I_00020 — Scrapper giving us the Full Moon. Notice you can’t even see the barrel. (c) S. Warren

Bear season ended pretty quietly. The bear never came back until two nights before the baiting season closed. The temps were low, the weather good and sunny during the day, and I sat hoping to see the bear. Any bear. After all, I had plenty of bear on my site at night. The Cuddeback camera failed again and although we knew there was a bear there the night before, we had no pictures to verify the time. The final night revealed just how big Scrapper is, and he topped it off with a proverbial moon of his own, as if to be laughing at me as he finished off the sticky nougat. A younger bear showed up at 6 am in the morning on the last day to get a few bites before the big guy came back that night. The only reason we know this is because we took our cameras down the last day so when we went back to remove our stands, all the bait was eaten. Makes clean up easier…but then again…we’re not done! Scrapper hasn’t won yet. We were amazed to see the exact tracks Scrapper took to come into the bait…they walk in the same tracks every time they come into a bait site. Perfect impressions in the forest floor and mud tracks to show just how big he really is. This will be a challenge and we may not be successful, but it will be another new adventure.

I_00056 — Nice sized bear. Note the nice perfect ears…not Scrapper. (c) S. Warren

Trapping bears, which we’ve never done, ends October 31st. John trapped for many years but hadn’t found the time to keep doing it. With a few papers signed and notarized and all permits purchased, John is now a licensed trapper, and he’s going to try to trap Scrapper. I can’t trap because I have never held a license before, and an apprentice license can only be obtained if you trap with someone who’s trapped for the last three years…so at this point I will be an observer. Hopefully it will be exciting!

So bear season for me ended. However, I got to see the Blood Moon, lunar eclipse and super moon whatever you want to call it…I loved it…and I even got to see a few shooting stars as I watched the lunar eclipse unfold.

In my frenzied moments of anxiety when no bears present, I also spent a good portion of the season investigating Maine mushrooms. This is new field of study for me, yet I find it entirely fascinating. It’s a lot like searching for fossils. Identification and the satisfaction in finding a species that you can actually eat makes the finds seem like treasures. As it turned out, my backyard yielded many lobster mushrooms, which I am trying to figure out how to freeze for future uses in my rabbit, partridge, and just maybe bear dishes. I can’t wait to find others that I’ve only read about but haven’t managed to find yet. Onto my next adventures…bow hunting!

IMG_20150923_065856640 — Lobster Mushrooms…yes they are edible! I found all of mine under oaks. (c) S. Warren

Final Week of Bear Hunting – Countdowns Are Hard!

September 24, 2015September 25, 2015 staciwarrenLeave a comment

Last Thursday….So the bears finally came back! I was pretty excited to see three different bears on my site. To our surprise, we had two different bears show up on John’s lower bait. One was a very small bear and another was one nice bear that showed up at 7:48 am…go figure…dang it!

big bear bottom bait — John’s 7:48 am bear

Friday-I had to work until after 5pm, so I couldn’t wait to hunt on Saturday.

Saturday, I got into my treestand earlier than usual. I had a honey burn going behind me. That’s a can of honey being cooked over a sterno fire to make a delicious aroma for bear. The place was full of scent and to make things more delicious, I brought and hung half of my frozen beaver carcass that John scored for me this past spring. The beaver was killed by a car at the end of the lake and was in the road. I spotted it on my way to taking my youngest to school so I called John and he recovered the beaver. I’ve waited all season to hang it as an added bonus since I’ve read that “beaver is bear cocaine”.

IMG_20150911_170357868 — My bait site this year…from my treestand. (c) S. Warren

The wind was swirling…like in every direction. It would swirl and whirl, and then be completely dead quite, then repeat itself. I kept myself entertained watching the several red squirrels and mice make their way to the bait for some eats, then they’d chase each other from one tree to another. I also heard lots of crashes and noises like never before. I thought I heard a “huff”–the sound a bear makes when he’s giving you a warning that he doesn’t like you being there…BUT since I’ve never actually experienced the whole experience of seeing and getting a bear, I second guessed myself, and thought I was just making it up in my head. After all, I am told you don’t hear bear, you see bear.

Eventually I had to surrender to legal shooting hours and leave the stand. I’ve been brave this year, making my way into my stand alone and walking out alone a couple of times. So once again I figured I’d walk out and meet John at the truck. Very quietly, I climb out of my stand, put my gun by the tree and put on my backpack. As I picked up my gun, I heard something take off about 20 yards from me. It ran a few steps, but then I didn’t hear it anymore. I thought maybe John was coming in to meet me, so I whistled…no whistle back…thinking perhaps I didn’t do it loud enough..I whistle again…still nothing. I decide it’s really getting too dark so I set my gun down and take off my back pack to find my flashlight. I can feel it, but I can’t find the zipper to access it…dang…After three or four tries, I hear a noise in the woods, and so I watch over my shoulder. I finally retrieve my flashlight. As soon as I turn it on, I spot John’s light coming through the woods. As I meet him, he’s pretty pumped up…”I just ran into a bear!….Yes, I know…he was right here…he circled around me and was coming in towards the honey burn….and so off the bear ran.

Sunday – We pulled the bear bait from Athens. We never got even one bear on the bait the entire time we tried, so we went in and cleaned and removed all traces of our being there.

Monday afternoon, I sat. No bears at the bait but I still sat and hoped. John sat on the upper bait which is a switch. With no bear at the other bait sites, he’s been sitting in the truck or out scouting for edible Maine mushrooms, a new fascination of mine.

Tuesday afternoon, I sat. Still no bears on the bait. My beaver carcass is hanging right where I hung it Saturday untouched. I wasn’t feeling too hopeful, but no more than 5 minutes after sitting in my tree stand, I spot movement…hoping for a bear, I soon realize it’s a deer…a big deer…a beautiful fully symmetrical, still-in-velvet or very dark antlers…an 8 point buck! If it were deer season, I would have shot me a deer. I’m thinking, deer are not supposed to come while bear hunting…they’re supposed to come during deer season!!…perhaps this is a sign of my deer season to come. Since I don’t have a doe tag, I’ll need to shoot a buck.

Toward the end of the night, I decided to try something new and I took out my predator call and started imitating a wounded rabbit…it’s supposed to call in bear…yeah right…it didn’t’ call in a bear, but as soon as I called, I began hearing a cow moose bellowing her mating call…over and over, louder and louder–about seven times in all. At first I thought it was John trying to call in a moose, because that’s what he does….so I call back thinking I’ll trick him…the next think I know I hear a bull moose making his grunt...it’s sort of like a glug…so cool! Okay, no John involved and there was a courting ritual taking place not too far from me. The cow and bull moose continued until I heard galloping down the road…what an exciting night! No bear, but all the wildlife encounters left me feeling satisfied.

10411746_10203113710937242_5290703695723692381_n — The upper bait…not much to look at…it’s grown in even more from this photo taken last year. (c) S. Warren

Wednesday afternoon I sat on the upper bait. For three straight nights, a smaller bear had been coming out during legal shooting hours, and we hadn’t even been checking the bait due to time constraints, and the fact that no bears had been to the bait since the first week of baiting season. John thought there was a bear there Tuesday, but it got too dark before it came out. The night felt exceptionally long. I think the woman forgot to put the turbo shot in my iced coffee. All I wanted to do was fall asleep…I hate it when that happens! The range of view is much smaller and inevitably there always seems to be noise behind me…and it drives me crazy. Finally it got dark so I could end my torture and get down… and again, no bear.

Thursday afternoon I can’t hunt. I have to work late at a formal function. There is nothing worse than not being able to hunt when the countdown is on.

Friday and Saturday are the last two days to hunt over bait. I’m putting all my eggs in one basket and spending my last two days doing everything possible to get a bear. I’m not too hopeful, and in fact I’m sort of resolved to the fact that chances are I won’t get a bear this year. Yes it bums me out, but I have to remember that each and every time I go, I am learning, and enjoying the outdoors and growing as a hunter, a woman and wife. I’ve been very fortunate to be able to spend this time with my hubby who basically has had even less chance of getting a bear this season than me, and I know that I’ll be back next year to try again. Cross your fingers for me!

My Love-Hate Relationship With Water

July 17, 2015July 24, 2015 staciwarren1 Comment

I love summer. I love swimming when it’s hot. I love the smell and feel of the water. I love to see calm glass-like water with native brookies rising. I prefer the warmer fresh water over ocean water. Life is, and should be, good. Yet, for as long as I can remember, I’ve had this love-hate relationship with water, in particular, when it comes to recreating in it. I have a long history of training to dislike water, and especially rivers. As a child it seems that when there was a tragedy, it involved rivers. I heard story after story about the Kennebec River, which legend says to claim at least one person each year. A family of three moved to our neighborhood after she and her husband lost two of three boys, who fell through the thin ice on the Kennebec. My other neighbor’s grandfather was a victim of the Kennebec after he was swept off the dam while working in Skowhegan. A father and son drowned in the Kennebec river one spring, and teens are said to have drowned while swimming “the ledges”, a strictly forbidden spot on the Sandy River, and rafters have died on the Dead River. Perhaps these tragic stories were told by my parents as an attempt to teach us a healthy respect for the rivers, or to voice their own fears because neither of my parents were swimmers; however whatever the reason, it’s had a lasting and negative effect on me as an adult.

Fishing on the pond. (c) S. Warren — Fishing on the pond with life jacket on. (c) S. Warren

So without question, the Kennebec River was totally off limits to recreating, and since we didn’t have a pool, if we wanted any type of relief from the heat, we ventured to the local swimming hole on the Sandy River. The waters were controlled by a dam; sometimes the river was high, and sometimes not. Each year, the river changed due to the spring floods, so we never knew what we’d encounter for depth and current. I struggled crossing the river to our swimming hole, but once there, I loved it. Once I was in my safe spot, I swam, but I never swam where the older kids did because I was afraid of being carried away by the current. It didn’t help that despite my belief I was a good swimmer, I have never been a strong swimmer. Taking free swimming lessons in Smithfield offered through the Red Cross meant two weeks a year to learn how to swim. It also meant facing my inherent fear of deep water when we were forced to dive off the float. I finally passed Beginner’s level just before junior high…and I never went back. My parents eventually put in a giant in-ground pool which meant no more trips to the river. Having a pool provided me an escape from my fear of the river, but it never erased it.

1915274_101150119911204_2093097_n — My oldest son Zack whitewater kayaking (c) S. Warren

My fear transformed into the mother who was always making sure there were life jackets involved in anything water related. Even though the legal age requirement for kids to wear a life jacket is 12 years old, I always told my kids 16 years old. Hey, it worked for me. I worried seeing my oldest son swim too far from the boat despite the fact that he was on the water every day working for a marina, had his captain’s license, and loves whitewater kayaking. While my husband and older son choose not to wear one, I refuse to swim outside of the boat without a life jacket, and I always wear my life jacket in the canoe. I’m there to have a good time, and I’m not about to let a little water hold me back!

11722147_625566267580733_2889021867153373577_o — All smiles in the beginning (c) S. Warren

As my love for hunting and fishing grew, it spurred this desire to try all kinds of adventures. I had never been whitewater rafting but had always wanted to try it, but at the same time I was scared out of my mind. When we finally were given the opportunity to whitewater raft the Kennebec, I was pretty excited and I can even say I had a good time during the actual rafting of the rapids.

At the end of the ride, the river flows softer, and many rafters got out and floated alongside the rafts. Oh joy! The photos don’t tell the story of my being convinced to get out of the raft and swim along side of it. My helmet was too big and kept falling over my eyes. The current was stronger than I thought. I could barely move in the water, which was paralyzingly cold even though I had a wetsuit on. When I got my bearings, my son was floating away and I panicked to grab him. Although I thought he was struggling, he swears he wasn’t. This story has only added fuel to the hazing I take from my oldest son regarding my fear of water. Once he was safely back in the raft, and I was hauled aboard, I somehow felt like a failure right then. Looking back, I now know that I had taken a big step towards my fear of river water. I still hope to go back again for a “do over” with a more positive outcome.

Whitewater rafting the Kennebec. (c) S. Warren

Even though I didn’t have the best experience, I did challenge myself and that’s a motto that I’ve been trying to live by every time I do something new. I enjoy pushing myself out of my comfort zone. I take each time I do something and make it a challenge. I actually get in the water on the Dead River, Sandy River and Carrabassett while I fly fish. If I didn’t I wouldn’t be able to catch all the wonderful fish I’ve caught. I don’t wear a life jacket because where I go, the water is only about waist deep and I know my limits. Unlike the boys, I have no intentions of taking an unplanned swim. With proper waders, boots and my hiking stick, I have been able to navigate the river and fish, and that’s what I love most. I still face my fear of river water every time I step in the river, but it’s a healthy one. I still plan to fly fish the Kennebec River this summer, and I’ll let you know how that goes. In the meantime, get out there. Be safe, be smart, and challenge yourself!