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!
 |
| 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.
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