womenofthemaineoutdoors – Page 2 – My Mainely Girl Adventures

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

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.

IMG_20160422_113608530

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.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

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.

IMG_pjkb9h

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. ❤

Being a Woman of the Maine Outdoors

January 28, 2016May 3, 2021 staciwarren3 Comments

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

IMG_20151219_205224454 — Our new fireplace

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

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

First fishing of the season!

Snowshoeing with the boy

A snowmobile ride at Moosehead

Lugging bait buckets

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

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

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

Coyote track

Something’s down there!

Not sure what this is.

Rabbit Track

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

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

Partridge perch…lots of poop. This one really likes this spot!

Waitinf for varnish to dry.

Flag..all I want to do is see a flag..JUST ONE

My first fish caught ice fishing

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

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

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!