Just as a heads up to anyone out there that is planning on baiting coyotes, make sure you check out the new laws released by Maine Department of Inland Fisheries and Wildlife. The biggest change to take note of is that before you place a bait, you must have landowner permission and all baits must be labeled. Check it out at the link below and lets go get some coyotes!
New Laws
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Recap of 2011 Deer Season
I just wanted to give everyone a little bit of a recap of the 2011 deer hunting season. I was discouraged to say the least, as the state of our deer herd is dismal at best. Between me and some of my friends, we had logged hundreds and hundreds of hours riding the logging roads in the North Maine Woods. All of our efforts had been rewarded with very few deer sightings. The sightings that we did have were localized, further hammering home the fact that the residual deer are in small pockets. This is unfortunate when it comes to looking at hunting impact on the bucks, because even though the area is vast, all of the hunting pressure is localized on where the deer are spotted, and in turn pressure small areas intensely. One of the other discouraging factors for deer hunting in Maine is the extremely deficient buck to doe ratio. I have heard estimates ranging all across the board, but a number that seems to make sense to me is in the ball park of 1 buck for every 10 does. This number is not based on any kind of survey or scientific element, just purely observations over time. That does not take into account the mature versus immature bucks, but that is a whole other topic.
All in all, I went into the season with a dismal approach, but was successful on my mission. Several of my other friends were also successful, which was the purpose of this post before I started rambling about the state of the deer herd. Anyway, check out the pictures and associated stories below.
Bud Soucy managed to shoot a whitetail in one of the more interesting stories I have ever heard:
Bud spotted the buck quietly moving through the freshly harvested softwood tops, as it headed towards the nearby pond. Quickly retrieving his rifle from the pickup, he picked a skid trail which paralleled the last direction he saw the buck headed in. As he anxiously advanced along, he saw no movement and heard nothing stir. Finally, he reached the shore of the small pond and started to skirt the edge towards where he guessed the deer would be. As a neared a point of land that protruded into the pond, he glanced out across the pond, and couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw the deer’s head and antlers swimming across the pond. He knew that there would only be a few moments after the deer emerged from the water, before it disappeared into the wall of regenerating trees on the far shore. Bud settled onto his knee, bracing the rifle, intent on the spot that the deer would be ashore. As the buck reached dry ground, he stopped for an instant and glanced backwards. That was all the time Bud needed and he fired. The deer bolted into the dense growth, and was no longer visible. Now came the painstakingly slow drive around to the other side of the pond, and the hunt for the blood trail. After several minutes of intense searching, Bud noticed a small speck of blood, and slowly worked into the cedar stand. He hadn’t gone far when he noticed the buck in his bed. A great buck, weighing 165 lbs. and sporting a wide 6 point rack.
A pair of deer harvested by father and son team Ked and Bryce Coffin:
Details are vague as to the secret location, but it is within the North Maine Woods. Both deer were the result of a week of hard work and persistence. Ked’s buck weighed in close to 190lbs. with a beautiful 9 point rack, and Bryce’s deer was around 170lbs. with a 7 point rack. Well done by both!
Nick Pelletier was so discouraged by the state of the deer herd, he planned a hunt into the Midwest, with a combination deer and elk hunt. He was unsuccessful with the elk tag, but was completely rejuvenated by the approximately 1200 deer his party saw on their trip. He had his sights set on a mule deer, and passed on several very nice whitetails to accomplish his goal. After a two mile stalk and 275 yard shot, his dream was now a reality, with a beautiful 3 X 4 mulie.
Matt Deprey also managed to shoot a whitetail at the end of the season. It was quite a unique situation, as the buck was making a rub on a small sapling when he saw him. You can see the sapling in the background. This was a 150lb. 6 point buck.
All across the board, the deer harvests were way down, with a few very nice bucks being harvested, but the numbers of hunters out there versus the harvested deer was quite poor. Bud Soucy even managed to win the buck pool at Quigley's Outdoors with his 165 lb. deer, which years of go would have been surpassed for sure. Until next year the 200+ pound deer will have to be in my dreams!
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Moose Hunt 2011 Summary
I received the summaries for the 2011 moose hunting season at Quigley's Outdoors, and it was impressive! They tagged 392 moose during the three weeks of hunting. The top ten lists are below:
| 2011 Moose Top 10 Bull Spread | ||||||||||||||||
| Hunter's Name | Sex of Moose | Weight | Spread | Town | State | |||||||||||
| David Such | Bull | 885 | 65" | Enfield | CT | |||||||||||
| Dustin Hafford | Bull | 739 | 61-1/4" | Allagash | ME | |||||||||||
| David Colbath | Bull | 814 | 57" | New Gloucester | ME | |||||||||||
| James Snyder | Bull | 959 | 56" | Allagash | ME | |||||||||||
| Rachel Levesque | Bull | 948 | 56" | St. John Plantation | ME | |||||||||||
| Joseph Gerling | Bull | 853 | 56" | North Collings | NY | |||||||||||
| Stacey Curtis | Bull | 846 | 55" | Lamoine | ME | |||||||||||
| Phil Dubois | Bull | 802 | 55" | Wallagrass | ME | |||||||||||
| Larry Bridges | Bull | 757 | 55" | Bucksport | ME | |||||||||||
| Ben Bouchard | Bull | 775 | 54-1/4" | Wallagrass | ME | |||||||||||
| 2011 Moose Top 10 Bull Weight | ||||||||||||||||||||
| Hunter's Name | Sex of Moose | Weight | Spread | Town | State | |||||||||||||||
| Jeffery Whitney | Bull | 972 | 49" | Etna | ME | |||||||||||||||
| Kristeena Gilbert | Bull | 965 | 45" | Jewell Ridge | VA | |||||||||||||||
| Walter Golet | Bull | 963 | 52" | South Berwick | ME | |||||||||||||||
| James Snyder | Bull | 959 | 56" | Allagash | ME | |||||||||||||||
| Michael Bereza | Bull | 954 | 49" | Chesterfield | MI | |||||||||||||||
| Rachel Levesque | Bull | 948 | 56" | St. John Plantation | ME | |||||||||||||||
| Galen Brown | Bull | 944 | 45" | Newport | ME | |||||||||||||||
| James Flanagan | Bull | 942 | 54" | Milton | NH | |||||||||||||||
| Randy Pottle | Bull | 924 | 54" | Palermo | ME | |||||||||||||||
| Kevin Ouellette | Bull | 922 | 51" | Sinclair | ME | |||||||||||||||
| 2011 Moose Top 10 Cow Weight | ||||||||||||||||||||
| Hunter's Name | Sex of Moose | Weight | Spread | Town | State | |||||||||||||||
| Chris Bouchard | Cow | 746 | - | Caribou | ME | |||||||||||||||
| Ricky Pelletier | Cow | 742 | - | Fort Kent | ME | |||||||||||||||
| Lawrence White | Cow | 742 | - | Lincoln | ME | |||||||||||||||
| Raymond O'Neil | Cow | 737 | - | Littleton | MA | |||||||||||||||
| Nathan Roberge | Cow | 734 | - | Sanford | ME | |||||||||||||||
| Jose Alonso | Cow | 719 | - | Stamford | CT | |||||||||||||||
| Brian Hjort | Cow | 707 | - | Cornville | ME | |||||||||||||||
| Paul Madore | Cow | 706 | - | Fort Fairfield | ME | |||||||||||||||
| Gregory Sullivan | Cow | 704 | - | Old Town | ME | |||||||||||||||
| Kenneth Gardner | Cow | 700 | - | Athens | ME | |||||||||||||||
| ||||||||
Happy (Much Belated) Thanksgiving
First off I just wanted to apologize for my lack of blog updates lately, and if there are any readers left out there thanks for your patience!
The day before Thanksgiving, I went on an expedition to harvest a turkey for the Thanksgiving day meal. I have a couple pictures of the 25lb. tom below. He was a truly huge bird, as I discovered when I picked him up!
Now for all of you saying this is crazy, he couldn't shoot a 25lb. turkey, nor can you even hunt turkeys in Northern Maine, I have to tell the whole story. This was a bronze back turkey, raised by Matt and Shelly Deprey. They were generous enough to humor me and let me have my "hunting expedition" in their backyard! Thanks Matt and Shelly!
The day before Thanksgiving, I went on an expedition to harvest a turkey for the Thanksgiving day meal. I have a couple pictures of the 25lb. tom below. He was a truly huge bird, as I discovered when I picked him up!
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| A 25 lb. Tom Turkey |
Now for all of you saying this is crazy, he couldn't shoot a 25lb. turkey, nor can you even hunt turkeys in Northern Maine, I have to tell the whole story. This was a bronze back turkey, raised by Matt and Shelly Deprey. They were generous enough to humor me and let me have my "hunting expedition" in their backyard! Thanks Matt and Shelly!
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Favorite Hunting Memory
–This is my submission for the Sportsman Channel Writing Contest for Hunters hosted by the Outdoor Blogger Network.–
In the last few months I have learned something about hunting that I didn't discover by studying tracks, scouting deer scrapes, or hanging trail cameras. I learned it by losing something very dear to me. I lost my two hunting partners, my gramp and uncle. I enjoy hunting with lots of people, but the man who spent the most time with me in the woods and on the water was my grandfather. His brother, my great uncle, lived far away, but his yearly visits always coincided with hunting season, so we were often the hunting trio. On occasion, we would be joined by my father or my brother, but the three of us spent the majority of our hunting time together. What I have learned in the last few months is that the memories created while hunting are more valuable than the trophies that you hang on the wall.
In the spring of 2010, my grandfather was drawn for his moose license, and my great uncle was the sub-permittee. Plans were drawn up for the three of us to hunt. Later in the summer, my gramp was diagnosed with lung cancer, and I was forced to face the fact that I would not have him around forever. Despite his sickness, he wanted to carry on with our hunting plans, so my great uncle came up, and we began our quest to tag our trophy bull.
The alarm clock rang out loudly, signaling that it was time to get out of bed. This was no chore, since I had hardly slept between dreams of monster bull moose, and nightmares of trying to retrieve them out of a bog or swamp. The coffee went down well, and the anticipation was high as the headlights on the pickup cut through the blackness of the early morning in route to our hunting spot. We arrived at the location I had decided on while scouting, and shut the truck off to wait until it was legal shooting time to proceed into the cuts that we hoped would hold a big bull. As the sky lightened, we advanced into the series of cuts, and were at the first vantage point rewarded with a large cow staring intently at us. We quickly scanned the tree line behind her for the monster bull we knew was around. Seeing nothing, we continued, and as we approached the next vantage point, the rack appeared above all else. This was the bull we were looking for, and he was an outstanding animal. Uncle Dick and Gramp prepared to shoot, but Dick tripped and lost his balance and fell. After we had recovered, the bull had decided to move on, and with neither Dick or Gramp in any health condition to pursue him, we decided to wait for our next opportunity. We didn't have to wait long until we got to our next location and were rewarded with another nice bull. He was much smaller than the first, but his antlers were still sporting an almost 50" spread. As they got situated to shoot, Gramp didn't have a shot through the trees, but Dick was lined up. He decided to fire and as he did, I noticed a lot of small hardwood trees in between him and the bull. He fired, and the bull took off running and disappeared into the treeline 200 yards away. Next, came two and half hours of searching and tracking, only to discover he had a direct hit on a couple of small maple whips, that most likely deflected his bullet. The week progressed with several other bulls being seen, but when quitting time came on Saturday we still had the tag in our hand.
At first, I was discouraged by our lack of "success", but after sitting down in the living room with coffee in hand, reliving the entire week, I discovered the hunt was a true success. I had a great time and all kinds of memories of this precious time spent with Gramp and Uncle Dick. Despite the obstacles they were both facing, both known and unknown, their determination and the joy they felt just being out in the wilderness together had truly inspired me. The echo of my Gramp's advice will forever remain in my mind. I had a tendency to get overly concerned about harvesting an animal and he would calmly remind me, "just relax and have fun." This is the true trophy.
Unfortunately, that was the last hunting trip I was able to take with gramp, as he passed away this summer after a hard fought battle with cancer, but the memories I have from that trip will stay with me for the rest of my life. This year, I was lucky enough to be drawn for an antlerless moose permit of my own, and my Uncle Dick planned his trip to come up with me. It would be a tough year, as it would be the first one we would hunt without Gramp. The hunt went well, with us harvesting a nice 500 lb. cow moose. Little did I know that this would be the last hunt I would have with Dick too. He had only been home for three days after the hunt when he suffered a heart attack, and passed away at the hospital. I have lost both of my hunting partners, but I will never lose the memories, the heritage, and the experiences that we shared. The moose hunt of 2010 will forever stand out in my mind as quality time spent with two irreplaceable hunting partners. It will now be up to me to create new traditions, pass the heritage on to my own kids some day, and to share and relive the hunting experiences that have helped shape me into the man I am today.
In the last few months I have learned something about hunting that I didn't discover by studying tracks, scouting deer scrapes, or hanging trail cameras. I learned it by losing something very dear to me. I lost my two hunting partners, my gramp and uncle. I enjoy hunting with lots of people, but the man who spent the most time with me in the woods and on the water was my grandfather. His brother, my great uncle, lived far away, but his yearly visits always coincided with hunting season, so we were often the hunting trio. On occasion, we would be joined by my father or my brother, but the three of us spent the majority of our hunting time together. What I have learned in the last few months is that the memories created while hunting are more valuable than the trophies that you hang on the wall.
 |
| Gramp and I with our deer in 2005 |
In the spring of 2010, my grandfather was drawn for his moose license, and my great uncle was the sub-permittee. Plans were drawn up for the three of us to hunt. Later in the summer, my gramp was diagnosed with lung cancer, and I was forced to face the fact that I would not have him around forever. Despite his sickness, he wanted to carry on with our hunting plans, so my great uncle came up, and we began our quest to tag our trophy bull.
The alarm clock rang out loudly, signaling that it was time to get out of bed. This was no chore, since I had hardly slept between dreams of monster bull moose, and nightmares of trying to retrieve them out of a bog or swamp. The coffee went down well, and the anticipation was high as the headlights on the pickup cut through the blackness of the early morning in route to our hunting spot. We arrived at the location I had decided on while scouting, and shut the truck off to wait until it was legal shooting time to proceed into the cuts that we hoped would hold a big bull. As the sky lightened, we advanced into the series of cuts, and were at the first vantage point rewarded with a large cow staring intently at us. We quickly scanned the tree line behind her for the monster bull we knew was around. Seeing nothing, we continued, and as we approached the next vantage point, the rack appeared above all else. This was the bull we were looking for, and he was an outstanding animal. Uncle Dick and Gramp prepared to shoot, but Dick tripped and lost his balance and fell. After we had recovered, the bull had decided to move on, and with neither Dick or Gramp in any health condition to pursue him, we decided to wait for our next opportunity. We didn't have to wait long until we got to our next location and were rewarded with another nice bull. He was much smaller than the first, but his antlers were still sporting an almost 50" spread. As they got situated to shoot, Gramp didn't have a shot through the trees, but Dick was lined up. He decided to fire and as he did, I noticed a lot of small hardwood trees in between him and the bull. He fired, and the bull took off running and disappeared into the treeline 200 yards away. Next, came two and half hours of searching and tracking, only to discover he had a direct hit on a couple of small maple whips, that most likely deflected his bullet. The week progressed with several other bulls being seen, but when quitting time came on Saturday we still had the tag in our hand.
 |
| One we opted not to take |
At first, I was discouraged by our lack of "success", but after sitting down in the living room with coffee in hand, reliving the entire week, I discovered the hunt was a true success. I had a great time and all kinds of memories of this precious time spent with Gramp and Uncle Dick. Despite the obstacles they were both facing, both known and unknown, their determination and the joy they felt just being out in the wilderness together had truly inspired me. The echo of my Gramp's advice will forever remain in my mind. I had a tendency to get overly concerned about harvesting an animal and he would calmly remind me, "just relax and have fun." This is the true trophy.
Unfortunately, that was the last hunting trip I was able to take with gramp, as he passed away this summer after a hard fought battle with cancer, but the memories I have from that trip will stay with me for the rest of my life. This year, I was lucky enough to be drawn for an antlerless moose permit of my own, and my Uncle Dick planned his trip to come up with me. It would be a tough year, as it would be the first one we would hunt without Gramp. The hunt went well, with us harvesting a nice 500 lb. cow moose. Little did I know that this would be the last hunt I would have with Dick too. He had only been home for three days after the hunt when he suffered a heart attack, and passed away at the hospital. I have lost both of my hunting partners, but I will never lose the memories, the heritage, and the experiences that we shared. The moose hunt of 2010 will forever stand out in my mind as quality time spent with two irreplaceable hunting partners. It will now be up to me to create new traditions, pass the heritage on to my own kids some day, and to share and relive the hunting experiences that have helped shape me into the man I am today.
 |
| 2011 Cow Moose |
Saturday, November 12, 2011
Moose Hunt 2011
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Deer!!!!!!!
The impossible happened today, I managed to shoot a deer! I never dreamed that it would happen this year, but it did, and I couldn't be happier. Here's the story:
I had been running a line of fox and coyote traps for a week or so, and I always check them first thing in the morning. On this particular day, I had two traps left on my line, that I was not able to get to until lunch time. These traps were directly behind my office, so it would make for a quick lunch time check. There is a garage surrounded by fields that are intertwined with roads. I drove past the garage, and up a field road, that connects to another field road that I have a trap on. As I neared the intersection, I couldn't resist the urge to look over my shoulder to see if I had caught something. I didn't see anything where my trap was, but I did see a dark spot that looked just like a pair of deer ears. I was sure enough that it was a pair of ears, I stopped the pickup and grabbed the rifle as I slid out of the seat. I brought the cross hairs to focus on the ears, and I could see the rack that protruded above them. Quickly I slid a cartridge into the chamber and closed the bolt. The only part of the deer that I could see was his neck and head protruding from the grass. He was facing me, so the only shot I had was the neck. I held right where his neck came out of the grass, took a deep breath, and gently squeezed the trigger. The recoil from the .270 made me lose my focus through the scope, and as soon as I recovered, I could no longer see the deer. I ran to where I had last seen the buck and started pushing through the almost shoulder high grass. After a couple minutes of frantic searching, I caught a glimpse of the buck. I approached cautiously, but I needed not worry, because he had dropped in his tracks. I grabbed the deer's antlers and let out a loud "Yeaaaaaaaaa!" It had been six years since I was able to harvest a whitetail, and it is hard to describe how good it felt.
I had been running a line of fox and coyote traps for a week or so, and I always check them first thing in the morning. On this particular day, I had two traps left on my line, that I was not able to get to until lunch time. These traps were directly behind my office, so it would make for a quick lunch time check. There is a garage surrounded by fields that are intertwined with roads. I drove past the garage, and up a field road, that connects to another field road that I have a trap on. As I neared the intersection, I couldn't resist the urge to look over my shoulder to see if I had caught something. I didn't see anything where my trap was, but I did see a dark spot that looked just like a pair of deer ears. I was sure enough that it was a pair of ears, I stopped the pickup and grabbed the rifle as I slid out of the seat. I brought the cross hairs to focus on the ears, and I could see the rack that protruded above them. Quickly I slid a cartridge into the chamber and closed the bolt. The only part of the deer that I could see was his neck and head protruding from the grass. He was facing me, so the only shot I had was the neck. I held right where his neck came out of the grass, took a deep breath, and gently squeezed the trigger. The recoil from the .270 made me lose my focus through the scope, and as soon as I recovered, I could no longer see the deer. I ran to where I had last seen the buck and started pushing through the almost shoulder high grass. After a couple minutes of frantic searching, I caught a glimpse of the buck. I approached cautiously, but I needed not worry, because he had dropped in his tracks. I grabbed the deer's antlers and let out a loud "Yeaaaaaaaaa!" It had been six years since I was able to harvest a whitetail, and it is hard to describe how good it felt.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Moose Scouting on the First Day of Deer Deason
Nothing used to evoke more anticipation than the thought of the first day of deer season. Due to a multitude of factors, the deer population is severely diminished from its historical size. That is a whole other topic, that will keep me rambling for a long time, so I will put that into a separate post. Due to the lesser deer densities, I decided that my morning was better spent scouting for moose, for my moose tag that I have next week(stay tuned for that story!). Heather and I left the house way before daylight, and arrived at the chosen destination just as the light was starting to brighten the sky. As we eased along checking trail after trail and clearing after clearing, I was starting to worry a little, but finally an hour later, I caught sight of the tell-tale "dark spot". A glimpse through my Barska binoculars confirmed it was a swamp donkey. As we got closer, a second one appeared, and it turned out to be a cow and a calf. They weren't overly impressed with us interrupting their breakfast, and they moved off into a pocket of young maples. On the way home, we managed to shoot a ruffed grouse, and saw a lone cow moose in an agricultural field.
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| Cow and Calf |
To close out the opening day of deer season, my dad, my uncle Dick and I decided to ride around some of the country that I have been hunting since I could walk. This was the first time we had deer hunted this ground without my grandfather. He was deeply missed, but we will continue the deer hunting legacy that he left behind. I had little hope of seeing anything, but I had to go for tradition if nothing else. As we rode, we were spending more time reminiscing of times past than actually looking for deer, but that didn’t stop us from seeing a doe standing at 30 yards broadside. Dad slammed the brakes on, and I grabbed the binoculars to scour the bushes behind her for any sign of a buck. After a few minutes, we decided she was alone, and continued down the road. A quarter mile later, the story telling on hold while we all were on high alert from our last sighting, Dad locked up the brakes and said, “There’s one!” As I turned to see where he was looking, I caught sight of something moving. Dad already had binoculars on it, and just as I got mine focused, he exclaimed, “It’s got antlers!” Dad got out and loaded his rifle, as I watched through the binoculars. I watched tensely, waiting for the loud crack of the .270 firing. Instead, all I heard was a whisper. “I can’t see him through the scope,” Dad said. I explained the deer’s location to him, so he could use a tree as a reference. He still couldn’t see and told me to get out and grab the gun. I got out and pulled the gun up to where the buck was standing. I couldn’t see anything through it either. It was getting dark, but there were still a few minutes of legal shooting time left. Talk about frustrating, I could see the buck through binoculars, but couldn’t see a thing through the scope. I jockeyed for a better position, when a truck came over the hill, and put his headlights right in my face. Then I really couldn’t see and by the time the truck left, I only had about a minute of legal time left. I couldn’t find the deer in the binoculars anymore and I assumed he had left. I started easing closer to where I had last seen him. When I got within 70 yards of where I had last seen him, he jumped and started running right in front of me. It was past legal time by now, so no shot was possible. It was a complete surprise to see that deer, and it did feel good to get the old buck fever going! The buck wasn’t a monster, but it was a good solid deer. I could see what I thought were three points on one side, but I couldn’t tell if it had brow tines, which would have made it an eight point, so either it was a six or an eight, but it got away, so it had to be an eight! I have now already seen more antlered deer this year than I expected, so I will have to keep my eyes open!
Bird Hunting Trip
Last Saturday, 4:15 shown brightly on the alarm clock when my eyes squinted to read the green blur. It was set for 4:30, but I was already awake, so I figured I might as well get up. Quietly I got ready and headed out to meet up with a couple of friends, Justin Dubois and Dave Saucier. We were leaving town at 5 to try and beat the other hunting parties to the woods that lie along the Northwestern border of Maine. Truly a beautiful spot, and once you get off the main logging road, people are a scarcity. An hour and a half later, we had gone through the North Maine Woods gate, and were sitting at the mouth of a branch road that in the past has produced large quantities of birds. We hadn't gone far when we saw our first bird, but we were still half asleep, and almost ran over him before seeing him, so we were unsuccessful on our first sighting. It wasn't long before I happened to catch sight of another one feeding along on the bank that ran along the road. That one did not manage to sneak away, and some of the pressure was relieved that at the very least we would not be skunked! That was the end of the birds on that road, so it was on to the next road, and we hadn't gone far before Dave and I both spotted a bird at the same time, but it took us a second to realize we weren't looking at the same bird, and we were in pursuit of a double. I managed to scare both myself and the bird I went after. I had walked right up to him without realizing it, until I stepped around a tree and there he was a mere 10 feet away. Let's just say his reflexes were a little slower than mine, and bird number two was in the truck. As the day continued, we saw several more birds and Justin was able to pick up two, and Dave snagged one. All in all we had a great day, and saw 14 birds total.
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Addtion of a Photo Album
I just wanted to let everyone know that I have added a page for photos. After reading through my posts, it makes it sound like I haven't been very successful, but I have had some success at times. The proof is in the photos, so don't forget to check it out.
Hunting Escapades
I apologize for the time it has taken me to update a post. I have been very busy trying to get all of my projects completed before winter hits, and cutting firewood in between rain showers. All of this hasn't left me much time to pursue our feathered friends, but I can say I have at last shot my first grouse of the season. Last week on a perfect "bird morning", with a heavy frost, and the sun coming over the tops of the trees, I was driving down a logging road. As I drove through a spot where an alder patch grew close to road, my peripheral vision picked up a head moving among the leaves. Instantly I perked up, but made no change in my driving until I was well past its location. After 100 yards, I stopped and got out. After loading the shotgun, I eased back towards where I had last seen the grouse. As I got close, I saw the bird jump onto an alder limb and begin its distinctive chirping that indicated its uneasiness of my presence. The year that had past since I last shot a grouse did not seem to hurt my shooting as the gun swung instinctively to my shoulder and the bead came to rest on the top of his head. A gentle squeeze of the trigger and it was grouse for supper!
I work with a serious waterfowler, Peter Gagne, and finally this Friday night, our schedules lined up, and I got to go waterfowling with him. As we drove into the field we were going to set up in, we spotted around 50 geese feeding complacently. We quickly got ready for a stalk, but hadn't gained more than 30 yards on them when they decided that we were closer than they wanted and flew. At this point we decided to go and get our blinds setup with the decoys. We were hunting a waterhole in the middle of an agricultural field, that was bordered by the St. John River. This was my first time hunting out of a layout blind, and let me recommend that you try one if you never have. They are a great tool to have, and I am hooked on them now. We hadn't been setup long when the first flock appeared. They showed no inclination of decoying, but the next ducks that came were a pair of black ducks coming in low and fast. A quick blat on the call and they looped around and committed. As soon as they flared into the committed position, Pete called "take em", and we both popped up and each fired at the duck on our respective sides. Both folded perfectly and thudded to the ground. As Pete got up to retrieve our ducks, another flock appeared over the far tree line. We quickly scrambled into our blinds and started calling. These ones showed no signs of coming anywhere near us, and after they passed Pete retrieved our birds. We had two other ducks land on the puddle right under our nose, and when I popped up to shoot, I shoot three rounds and had nary a feather for it. I guess I will have to stick to the harder shots, because I really messed up the easy ones! Those were the last ducks we were able to decoy, but we had a lot of fun, and saw lots of birds flying. If you have never tried waterfowl, I would strongly recommend it, but remember that you need both a state permit and a federal stamp. See the picture of our ducks below.
I work with a serious waterfowler, Peter Gagne, and finally this Friday night, our schedules lined up, and I got to go waterfowling with him. As we drove into the field we were going to set up in, we spotted around 50 geese feeding complacently. We quickly got ready for a stalk, but hadn't gained more than 30 yards on them when they decided that we were closer than they wanted and flew. At this point we decided to go and get our blinds setup with the decoys. We were hunting a waterhole in the middle of an agricultural field, that was bordered by the St. John River. This was my first time hunting out of a layout blind, and let me recommend that you try one if you never have. They are a great tool to have, and I am hooked on them now. We hadn't been setup long when the first flock appeared. They showed no inclination of decoying, but the next ducks that came were a pair of black ducks coming in low and fast. A quick blat on the call and they looped around and committed. As soon as they flared into the committed position, Pete called "take em", and we both popped up and each fired at the duck on our respective sides. Both folded perfectly and thudded to the ground. As Pete got up to retrieve our ducks, another flock appeared over the far tree line. We quickly scrambled into our blinds and started calling. These ones showed no signs of coming anywhere near us, and after they passed Pete retrieved our birds. We had two other ducks land on the puddle right under our nose, and when I popped up to shoot, I shoot three rounds and had nary a feather for it. I guess I will have to stick to the harder shots, because I really messed up the easy ones! Those were the last ducks we were able to decoy, but we had a lot of fun, and saw lots of birds flying. If you have never tried waterfowl, I would strongly recommend it, but remember that you need both a state permit and a federal stamp. See the picture of our ducks below.
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| A pair of Black Ducks - One of Pete's and One of Mine |
Sunday, October 2, 2011
First Day of Bird Season
Bird Season opened on Saturday, being the first of October, and true to form I went out hunting. I have a good friend Blake whose birthday falls on October 1. So as a form of a birthday gift, I offered to take Blake out to try and bring home a few "thunder chickens". His wife Sarah and one of their friends were going to tag along as well. Saturday, I awoke to a rainy dreary day, which I don't particularly mind for chasing birds, but the wind was blowing quite hard which I don't particularly like. On the way to meet them, I went by one road that looked particularly habitable for birds, so I couldn't drive by it and took a quick spin in. Right as the alders started to close in at the end of the road, I could see a bird fly across the road a hundred yards ahead. I quickly grabbed the shotgun, and bailed out of the pickup stuffing shells into the chamber as fast as my fingers would work. I loaded three shells and then worked the pump action to load the chamber. I fought through the alders, and was drenched in about three seconds, as each leaf seemed to hold a gallon of water. I pushed back into the fir stand where I last saw him disappear, but after still hunting through, I had not seen him again when I hit a flooded portion where the beavers had been busy. Now I was running behind schedule, and I didn't feel like wading this early in the day, so I headed back to the truck. I picked up the other three and headed for another road. It wasn't long, before we saw another bird that was very skittish, and flew as soon as we saw him. Blake and I went in after it, but due to my previous experience, I wasn't feeling hopeful. We slowly worked through a fir thicket, and had all but given up, when it flushed from 10 feet away. The regenerating fir blocked it from our vision, but the thunderous noise that the wings create on takeoff is unmistakable. We trudged back to the truck, to continue our tour of the woods. We rode a lot of country before I finally spotted a dark spot about a quarter of a mile up the road, and a quick glimpse through the binoculars confirmed it was a bird. As I hurried to get closer, we didn't make it much closer before it decided to fly. We hunted through the woods for a while, but we could not seem to find it. That was the last bird we saw for the day, and we reverted to shooting a couple of soda cans to practice our aim. Please remember to pick up any cans or targets you use, because we all want to enjoy the woods without junk scattered everywhere! Below are a few pictures from the can shooting excursion.
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| Blake Setting Up a Can |
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| Decision - Shotgun or Pistol? |
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| Blake's Trophy for the Day! |
Latest fishing trip.
Well, to call my last fishing adventure successful might be a slight overstatement, but I still enjoyed it. Friday, with the weather as nice as it was, Heather and I couldn't resist another trip on the river with the canoe. After rounding up all of our gear, we headed to a favored location along the mighty St. John River. We pushed the canoe off the mud bank that I call a boat launch, and set off with high hopes of hooking into a monster fall muskie. As we drifted slowly along probing the depths of the river bottom with a myriad of lures, I decided that I should have tried to start the motor before drifting this far from where the pickup was parked. With reluctance, I set my fishing pole down (I was scared Heather was going to catch a fish before me and up the score even higher), and attempted to start the motor. For a little background, I run an Old Town XL Tripper canoe with a side mounted 6 h.p. Johnson. The motor is a 1979, and although it has left me paddling a couple of times, it runs quite well considering its rough life. A few cranks later, and me starting to worry just slightly, I heard it kick over, and one more pull roared it to life, which calmed my fears of having to paddle the canoe back up stream. Now the worrying was over and it was time to fish. We cruised up the river stopping at all of our traditional spots, trying to hook into a fish, and as we continued along, I began to fear I might be experiencing my first "skunked" trip of the season. As the hours passed, I tried all kinds of different lures that I hoped would provoke a response, and fished the holes in every way I could think of. We trolled current lines of deep pools, cast countless times in every direction, and no matter what we tried, we could not seem to entice a fish. The day was far from a loss, as Heather and I got to spend a beautiful fall day on the river, and got to see a multitude of birds including a Great Blue Heron which seemed to be investigating all of the same areas we were. It also takes some unsuccessful days to make you really appreciate what you have when you are successful. We will just have to get back out there and try again!
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