Category Archives: Black Bear

The best quiche I've ever tasted.

Bear Meat Quiche

March 6, 2013   Black Bear, Black Bear, Feature, Food, Maine Outdoors, Outdoor Women, Recipe, Wild Harvesting

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Bear meat quiche. Did you just make a face?

Bear meat stinks, it’s tough and it tastes horrible, right? Wrong. If you field dress the bear quickly, cool the carcass immediately, and process it correctly–just like every other animal–it’s delicious. I dispelled the myth of bear meat being horrible at Cooking Wild Game, a workshop I presented at Maine BOW’s Winter Skills weekend.

We sampled the cooked sausage before adding it to the quiche and all agreed, it was delicious!

The best quiche I've ever tasted.

The best quiche I’ve ever tasted.

This quiche is simple to make and uses only one bowl other than the baking pan or pie plate.

Bear Meat Quiche

Line a 9 x 9 baking pan or pie plate with pie crust

Layer: (don’t mix)

2 cups of shredded cheese on top of the crust.
1 pound of precooked bear sausage on top of the cheese.
1 c chopped onions
2 c sliced fresh mushrooms
6 eggs, scrambled with 1 oz cream or milk per egg
Salt and pepper to taste

Bake for 45 to 60 minutes at 350*. It’s done when a knife removes cleanly from the center. Let cool 10 minutes before cutting.

Thanks to Jeremy for the sausage and to Gene for getting it to me. I appreciate it a lot!

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Poultry versus Predator

January 26, 2013   Agriculture, Black Bear, Bobcat, Fisher, Homestead, Nature, Poultry, Weasel

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It started six days ago. It was the beginning of a week-long cold snap. I went to the barn and hen house at sunrise to take food and warm water to the ducks, chickens and turkeys. Everything was fine in both buildings.

Steve came inside in rush late in the morning. The kitchen door swung open and slammed the door handle into the side of the refrigerator. Something was wrong. “Hey Rob, when was the last time you checked on the chickens?” I told him. Three of the four silkies were dead and had been eaten. I really liked those birds, all hens. They were going to set on ring neck pheasant eggs for me this spring. I had plans. They served several purposes.

I first suspected a bobcat. There wasn’t much left to the carcasses to give me clues.  A raccoon was a possibility. A warm spell had just ended and though early, they could be out for mating season. Raccoons rip head, leg or wing off while the bird is alive, and it’s a bloody mess. These wasn’t a drop of blood anywhere. I ruled that out. Skunks mate in winter but I didn’t think that was it. Skunks clean the meat off down to the bone, including the neck, neatly picked clean.

Did you think raccoons and skunks hibernated in fall and didn’t wake up til spring? They don’t. Even bears are awake in winter, in what’s called torpor. Sows are awake to give birth and raise cubs in the den. They give birth in Maine in January.

I was concerned about the kills being made in daylight. I’d been in the barn four hours earlier and everything was fine. Bobcat? They hunt during the day. I had another bobcat, a predator I don’t often have to deal with. I kept the barn doors closed until much later in the morning, let the dogs out on patrol one at a time to stretch out the time they could cover in the -25* wind chill, and checked on the birds several times during the day.

Tuesday morning, out early, birds watered and fed, I went back to the house. When it warmed up I took water to the barn to let the ducks have a bath. If they can’t bathe to stay clean they have a hard time staying warm. In this cold, it’s better for them to have a quick dip, shake off the water, preen and be clean and warm. I put a DuraFlex feed pan on top of some hay, filled it and let the ducks have their bath. It was Ava’s turn to guard the birds so she went out when I went back to the house.

About an hour later, Ava, panting hard and barking, came to the house to get me.I pulled on my boots, grabbed my coat and ran to the barn. Silence. That’s never good. The nervous ducks always quack when I enter the barn. The chickens weren’t clucking. All dead? My stomach turned. Had I lost all of these birds in a short time while Ava was outside? No barking? Nothing made sense.

I don’t know what happened but I assume she surprised the predator in the barn and chased it away. Three ducks were dead. One was was partially eaten and what remained of it had been hidden under a little hay. Two more were in a corner in the hay. One was missing its head, the other whole. Both had wounds to the neck. It was suggested online that it might be a weasel. I looked at the carcasses again. There weren’t the telltale bobcat scratches down their backs that are made when a cat swipes at its prey. Weasels kill their prey by biting the neck. Clearly it wasn’t an ermine (stout). An ermine that weighs two to six ounces doesn’t eat four pounds of duck or three pounds of chicken in one feeding. Fisher? Yes, probably a fisher. The bite marks on the necks, big enough to gorge on that much meat and brave enough to show up during the day; it made sense. I didn’t know if fishers killed more than they’d eat at once or if they bury food for later. I know now that they don’t.

Runner ducks killed by a predator.

Sweetie, Chocolate and Drake.

I caught the three surviving chickens and three surviving ducks, crated them and moved them to the hen house. Introducing three terrified ducks to turkeys and chickens is tough. It’s hard on chickens, especially traumatized birds, but worse on the already nervous ducks. Two of the three ducks had scratches on their necks but if they died now, it would be from shock, not injury.

duck killed by predator

Note wounds at the bottom of the duck’s neck. It’s hard to see with its winter coat.

The chickens did alright. Buff and an orpington had a sparring match. Ava tried to keep them apart but they were hell-bent on fighting. Ava tugged at the orpington’s leg a few times without results. She became frustrated by the birds after 10 minutes, grabbed the orpington by the leg, dragged her out of the hen house and deposited her on a snowbank. End of fight. Five days later, the chicken is probably still wondering what happened. The ducks spent the rest of Tuesday and Wednesday in the crate. They started eating and drinking Wednesday afternoon, a good sign they’d survive.

The energy bar I gave the barn chickens was partially eaten Thursday. The predator was back.

(This has gotten long. I’ll continue tomorrow.)

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Thankfulness and Gratitude

November 24, 2012   Agriculture, Birds, Black Bear, English shepherd, Farmers Market, Food, Greenhouse, high tunnel, hoop house, Growing Fruit, Nature, Small Farming, Whitetail deer, Wild Harvesting, Wildlife in Maine, Writing

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At the end of the Thanksgiving weekend and beginning of the Christmas season, I have much to be thankful for.

It started with the makings of a Christmas wreath. It was 45* last Sunday afternoon. The air was still and the sky clear. I found a clean, empty grain bag in the shed and called to Ava, our English shepherd. “Let’s go tipping.” She, of course, knows nothing of tipping. She’s a dog. Ava is energetic and enthusiastic and will follow me anywhere. She’s a good companion in the woods. We walked to the back left corner of our open three acres of land, followed the grassy trail Steve keeps bush hogged, and onto another cleared trail. The second trail trail was made by a skidder in the winter of 1996/97 when our land, not ours at the time, was last logged. The ruts are deep and collect water, making small pools where wood frogs lay their eggs in the spring.

Ava explored while I walked from tree to tree, down the old rock wall that fell over long before we bought the land, snapping off the tips of balsam trees. I’m thankful for My Creative Diva’s interest in a how-to article on Christmas wreaths. This led me to thinking about the choice I made to give up market farming to pursue writing full time. It could have gone both ways, and thankfully it has gone well. I love what I do and I’ve had a good year. “Paying my dues,” is a phrase I’ve repeated many times in the past year. Without a college degree to prove my worth, I have to pay my dues. Mind you, I know a few college educated people holding writing degrees who can’t write a grocery list, but they’re worthy because they are educated. I’ve been paying my dues and I’m not for one second complaining. I’ve enjoyed the hard work.

Tipping is mindless work; snap the branch off in the right place with my right hand, pile tips on my left arm until I can’t balance them, place the pile on the ground. I go back to get them when I think I have enough to fill the grain bag. There’s a lot of peaceful time to think when I’m tipping.

I’m a little thankful that I miss being a market farmer. It means I enjoyed my work. I’m thankful that I still have two of the three high tunnels that I’ll continue to use to feed my family.

My land is nothing special, but at the same time, it is. I’m thankful that I can feed my family from my 45 acres. We have wild blackberries, raspberries and strawberries growing on our land. There aren’t a lot of any of them but I can make a batch of jam or jelly and eat the fruit fresh. The land supports cherry and apple trees that provide us with fruit, and apricot, peach and plum trees that will produce in a few years. I enjoy the wild mushrooms I pick each summer and fall. Snowshoe hare, partridge and bear give me opportunities to hunt on my own land. I can hunt for deer here but there are very few.

Even in dry years, my piece of land provides water. Natural springs dot a large portion of land close to the house. We can snowshoe to one particularly productive spring, lower a bucket through an opening in the four foot deep snow and pull up fresh, clean water.  We’d melt snow first, but I’m thankful for the option.

A large medical bill nagged at us soon after we bought the land. Steve borrowed a skidder. Talk about something to be thankful for—friends who have skidders and generously let us use one when needed. I learned to drive a skidder during the cedar cut. I’m thankful I didn’t hurt myself or break anything. I did turn the skidder into a unicorn when I drove over a 10′ log that somehow, through a series of magical moves as far as I can tell, speared itself to the front of the skidder and stuck up at an angle. Steve thought I’d probably driven the skidder enough and took over. I agreed. He cut cedar trees, sold them to a local sawmill and paid the bill in full.  Forty-two of our 45 acres are wooded. We can heat our home with wood from our woodlot if necessary.

Christmas wreath

This Christmas wreath has sprigs of cedar and pine wrapped in. It smells beautiful and will last well past Christmas day.

The balsam I harvest comes from wild trees I managed to supply the tons of tips I used to make thousands of Christmas wreaths. It’s been a good source of income at the end of the growing season, and one I can fall back on at any time. The cedar and pine I tuck into wreaths and the cones from the white pine trees I decorate with also grow here.

I’m thankful for all I’ve learned about nature here. I’ve learned wildlife tracks, habitat and habits. Dead trees provide homes for three kinds of woodpeckers that I can watch when they start peeking out of the tree in preparation for leaving the nest.

For our family and friends, our careers, the food on our table, warmth in our home, clothes on our backs, my 10 year old reliable vehicle, and the freedoms we’ve chosen, I am thankful.

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Lisa Bates on Bear Baiting

September 23, 2012   Black Bear

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I knew when I wrote about bear baiting I’d cause a stir. I wasn’t anticipating “I hope you get shot out of a tree.” Someone called me and other bear baiters “scum suckers.” The ‘contact me’ link was removed from my blog after that one. One woman was so outraged that I didn’t explain that cubs need their  mothers for protection, etc. (saying I won’t shoot a sow with cubs because they have a better chance of surviving winter with their mother was not enough for her) that she wrote a letter to the editor of the Bangor Daily News. I stopped reading comments.

Bear bait barrel

A bear bait barrel.

You’d think I’d let this go, wouldn’t you. I’m not. I am so sure of baiting as a means of population control (we’re not shooting enough bears to meet the biologists’ recommendations), and that it’s not inhumane but factually more humane, that I’m going to stick my neck out again. Thanks to Lisa Bates for sharing her knowledge with us in a comment on a blog entry. She’s given me permission to reprint this as an entry of its own.

Lisa Bates had this to say about that:

Robin,

I really appreciate your article about bear baiting and give you props for educating yourself in trapping and hound hunting, despite it being something that doesn’t speak to you. Open-mindedness is a breath of fresh air. I encourage you to try hound hunting (especially if you enjoy dogs), and maybe even someday trapping… they are two experiences that are equally as fascinating as observing bears over bait. I got frustrated with some of the responses from your readers (as I’m sure you can relate), so I proceeded to vent to Microsoft Word. I thought maybe it would be worth sharing; perhaps someone will gain something from it. Read on….

Baiting bears requires physical strength/stamina, hours of work and preparation for weeks on end, knowledge of bear behavior, access to bait resources (which can get expensive). The bears have to be hungry enough to take the risk (which they know is there) to come in and eat. AND THEN the hunter has to sit still and quiet enough for a bear to think it’s alone. I challenge any non-hunter to sit outside (in the woods please, not on your patio) on a hard surface with mosquitos flying around you and absolutely no bug spray. DO NOT swat the bugs, do not sneeze, cough, clear your throat, move the hair from your face, do not squirm, cross your legs, shift to the other buttcheek, turn your head to look at what’s rustling in the leaves behind you, do not sigh, or even move your eyes to the side too quickly…do that for 15 minutes. Try it for 3 or 4 hours and please tell me what was easy about it.

The same can be said for hunting a bear with hounds or trapping a bear using a foot-hold snare. Countless hounds are sent to the woods and equally as many trappers set snares in the ground and walk away at the end of the season unsuccessful. There is a strong sense of personal fullfillment and pride that one experiences when they’ve finally captured a bear in a snare or their dogs, that they’ve spent months training, have finally put one in a tree. I hear so many arguments about bears being scared out of their minds while in a trap or being chased by dogs. Sure, maybe they are scared, that’s probably a fair statement, but what creature on this earth hasn’t been? A twig snaps in the woods and the heart rate of every animal within hearing distance goes up and they get a little scared. Life out there is hard. So when I walk into my trapsite and see bears on numerous occasions sleeping soundly on their backs like you would see your dog on the couch, or laying on a limb comfortably resting while dogs are barking their heads off at them, I tend to think that maybe the experience isn’t all that stressful to them in the whole scheme of things. And I can walk away, with or without that bear knowing that the life it lead up until that point was healthy and fulfulling and wild, and the inconvenience I’ve put on it in that moment could never overshadow that.

Bears are incredible, incredible creatures. They’re beautiful, smart, patient, inquisitive, shy, protective, and unique. I trap them, hunt them with hounds, and hunt them over bait. I have a Bachelor’s in Wildlife Biology and I’ve spent the last 6 years of my life researching bears (and other fuzzy fun critters) using trapping techniques and hounds. I tranquilize, radio-collar, and measure sows and their cubs or yearlings. I’ve chased, been chased, scratched and bit, and smelled and heard and watched hundreds of bears in their dens – the most intimate experience you could ever begin to imagine. If there’s one true absolute bear lover out there, it’s me. And those who hunt – regardless of the technique – truly, truly value a bear’s life just as much as I. Because they are the ones who choose to take it; to take the responsibility of that bear’s life, and death, into their own hands, for an uncountable number of reasons that no one but them needs to understand. Every hunting experience builds character, engages people with the wild wonders of the world, and teaches them to apprecate the value of an incredible animal that can uncannily put you in a state of awe and make you want to run at the same time.

Harvesting a bear over bait, by dogs, or in a trap is not and never will be automatic. Shame, shame, shame on those who think otherwise. Hamburgers and hot dogs, on the other hand, are automatic. Cooking a chicken breast over the grill for your family bbq requires a drive to the store and $7.34. You don’t know anything about that chicken and how it lived and what it ate. It’s fine to disagree on the methods of hunting or trapping if you’ve tried it and it’s not your cup of tea, but shame on those of you who sit behind your computers and televisions and pass judgement and make assessments on things you don’t truly understand because you don’t get out there and learn it for yourself.

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Destroying the Myth

September 10, 2012   Black Bear, Maine Outdoors, Wildlife in Maine

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This is both interesting and educational. Keeping Maine’s wildlife populations under control is a lot of work. There aren’t enough black bears being harvested to keep the population under control. According to Inland Fisheries & Wildlife, there have been approximately 700 calls about nuisance bears since they came out of hibernation this spring. That’s just a few short months. Many of the calls are 100% avoidable. Clean your grill after using it. Empty the grease trap. Don’t leave it smelling like food. Keep your trash in a secured area. A trash can is not enough. Don’t create your own problems with the expectation that a game warden will take care of it for you. There are a lot more bears in this state than there are wardens, and the wardens have a lot more to do than deal with just bears.

Stats from IF&W: In 2011 Maine needed 3,500 bears to be harvested to help stabilize the population. 2,400 bears were harvested. 75% of them were taken over bait. Even with baiting we’re not meeting the management needs. 68% of the bears harvested in Maine were by non-residents.

Before you condemn baiting, learn about the realities of it personally. Have your own knowledge to base your decisions. If you’re still willing to ban baiting, what’s your plan to keep the bear population healthy?

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Bear Baiting: Or Putting My Neck on the Chopping Block

September 9, 2012   Black Bear, Eat local, Food, Hunting, Wild Harvesting, Wildlife in Maine, Writing

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Bear baiting is probably the most controversial subject I’ll ever write about. I put it off for weeks because I knew it would bring out the ugliness of the inexperienced, emotional people. I stuck my neck out and wrote the blog.

All but one reaction was predictable. One made me laugh out loud. “Yeah…you SUCK and should be OUTLAWED.” I wished her luck in getting me outlawed. I know she meant baiting should be outlawed but really, if you can’t take a person at their word, how much faith can you put in them? I was amused. Laugh out loud amused. I’m sure it’s the first time someone has told me I should be outlawed.

A commenter with a caveman speech pattern started off with his thought. He commented the previous day in a news report about a bear being shot. Someone pointed out that the lobsters he had pictured on his Facebook page had been baited and trapped and “murdered” too. Funny…the picture disappeared. That’s ok, Gerald, we saw it. We know you eat baited and murdered lobsters.

A woman thinks I’m ridiculous and sound like I’m socializing with the bears. I have no idea how she came to that conclusion but I can’t argue her opinion. If that’s how she understood what I wrote, that’s how she understood it. It wasn’t what I was trying to convey. Maybe (no, she won’t) she’ll go back and read it again when she’s not as emotional. It is an emotional topic. Socializing with the bears. Interesting comment. Sometimes I wish I could sit down with people like her to ask how they come to their conclusions.What did I say to make her think this is a social event? Interesting. People are interesting.

So why did I take on such a controversial topic? As a former market farmer and a current homesteader raising and growing a lot of my food, I want people to think about where food comes from. Somehow, I didn’t do a very good job of that. Several people overlooked my statement that I do eat bear meat. I wasn’t shooting an animal for the thrill of shooting an animal. If I get a bear it’s meat on my dinner table. I want people to think about their food. It matters.

To all you hunters who kill animals for food

This person thinks we should eat meat made in grocery stores instead of killing animals.

Sheila Fonseca commented to say some people must still think the meat they buy in a Styrofoam package was never an animal. I hope her comment makes someone think. It’s worth sticking your neck out so that someone can have your neck on a platter when you make one person think.

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A Black Bear Cubs Update

September 1, 2012   Black Bear, Hunting, Nature, Outdoors, Wildlife in Maine

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Black bears are one of the most difficult animals to observe because of their timid nature. I’m very fortunate to have several spots to watch them. Each spring, during mating season, boars travel in search of sows and often pass through my yard or just outside the property line on the far side of a rock wall through the woods. I saw two sets of twin cubs last year at the hunting camp I frequent. One set didn’t have a mother but seemed be doing well. I saw them often, always 115 yards away at the back of food plot. They searched for food, ate an apple or two and played a bit. The second set was with their mother. They were 40′ish pounds of rough and tumble energy. It was their mother that made me nervous for the first time about being alone in the woods. I’ll write more about that when there’s more time to write because there are fewer things to be doing outdoors.

Steve talked last night with a man who saw what we think are the rough and tumble cubs while he was hunting Monday. They came flying out of the woods, mauled the barrel in the same fashion as last year, climbed on it, tried to climb into it (no longer fit), tipped it over, wrestled with the logs and kept him entertained. They’re still together. I wish there were a way to know if they den together this winter. I’m not sure they’re the same cubs. They might be the calmer cubs that didn’t have a mother but based on personality, it seems unlikely. Black bears are territorial. They only signs of other cubs were tracks of a sow and single cub after the early spring arrived. This sow and cub might have been wandering through in search of food while there was so little food available.

No signs of the motherless twins yet this year but they had the best chance of survival possible without their mother thanks to the mild winter. I’ll be watching for them over the next three months. I’d love to see them and how they’re doing.

I never forget how blessed I am to be able to spend enough time in an area that I get to know the wildlife.

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Why Do You Hunt?

July 18, 2012   Black Bear, Food, Hunting, Maine, Maine Outdoors, Moose, Outdoors, Turkey hunting, Whitetail deer, Wild Harvesting, Wildlife in Maine

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“Why do you hunt” he asked, or more like accused. “The deer belong to everyone and you shouldn’t be shooting them.” He was making a statement with a question mark placed at the end of his sentence.

Let’s clear up his first misconception. I “…shouldn’t be shooting them.” I’m not. Yet. I’m working on it. We have a very low deer population in northeastern Maine. Finding a “shooter” is a lot of work and not something I’ve done successfully yet.  I promised I won’t shoot his deer.

It’s a valid question even coming from a man who couldn’t answer my question. “Why do you eat animals that have been treated cruelly in factory farms?” He blinked. blink blink

blink

I’m not a purist now but I used to be. We do occasionally eat factory farmed meat. We go out to eat and eat meat when invited to have supper in friends’ homes. I wasn’t poking sticks at him. I wanted him to think about why he eats the way he does. I pointed out that regardless of who pulls the trigger, he’s responsible for the deaths of animals. Whether I do it or he has someone do it for him, dead is dead. We’re given two Thanksgiving turkeys (even though we raise our own) and Christmas and Easter hams from factory farms.

blink

I’m sure he’s given my question some thought. Mission accomplished.

So why do I hunt?

  1. I am a meat eater. That’s not going to change. I make no excuses for and have no need to justify being a meat eater.
  2. Personal responsibility. We raise chickens, ducks and turkeys. We used to raise a steer and pigs each year. We having laying hens, both chicken and duck, for eggs. I won’t touch a factory farmed egg. Having humanely raised and slaughtered meat matters to me. I love partridge, venison, moose, bear and caribou. Hunting is as normal to me as having a garden to provide our own vegetables.
    I accept responsibility for the deaths I cause. Vegetarians and vegans cause animal deaths, and most I know accept that as a necessary part of eating. Fawns left in fields by their mothers are killed by heavy equipment harvesting plants. Rabbits, birds, mice, deer, moose and other animals are killed for the sake of growing plants. There are so many moose in Aroostook County, an area that produces potatoes, broccoli, cabbage, cauliflower and other commodity crops, that there’s a special hunt to control the population and protect crops.
  3. Ethics. I don’t want to support factory farming. The thought of an animal as intelligent as a pig being raised inside, on concrete, crammed in a cage too small to turn around in, without seeing sunshine or blue sky, breaks my heart.
  4. I want to know what I’m eating. I don’t want artificial hormones, unnecessary antibiotics to make a bird grow faster (the industry answer to not using hormones in poultry), or necessary antibiotics to keep animals “healthy” in poor living conditions.
  5. I love being part of nature. Yes, I can do that without hunting, and I do. I am more a part of nature, the food chain, by hunting.
  6. I am creating a new family tradition: women who hunt. I’m the first woman to hunt in my family. My sister Tammy has followed in my footsteps and sister Melissa might, too. My daughter Taylor will hunt. I don’t think Kristin, my oldest daughter, will hunt but she’s supportive of what I do.
  7. I love a challenge. Finding a track, following it through the woods or down the road, losing it, finding it again, listening for movement or blows–it’s a challenge. Becoming a good shot with rifles and shotguns is a challenge. It takes practice. Maintaining marksmanship is a challenge. I’ve conquered my fear of heights by climbing ladders into various tree stands.
  8. Exercise. Put on boots, long johns, warm pants, cotton shirt, insulated turtleneck, shirt, hunting coat, required fluorescent vest if your coat isn’t hunter orange, and required orange hat. Carry a rifle (I most often use my Browning BAR .308 with scope) that weighs 6.75 pounds, add the weight of the scope. Walk up, down and across ridges looking for signs. Climb over and crawl under downed trees (safely of course). Do that for six hours. It beats driving to a gym to run nowhere on a treadmill. I reserve the treadmill for winter when the weather doesn’t allow outdoor activities.
  9. Education. Have I ever gotten an education. I’ve learned sounds, appearance, habits and habitat of the animals and birds I hunt and those that are around when I’m hunting. I’m positive I know more about the moose that walks the path to the right of a field I hunt in, crosses behind me, and walks in the woods on the left side of the field most of the 118 yard length of the field before going back into the woods than most people know about the cow they’ll be eating for supper tonight. Did you know doe deer will rise up on their back legs and box each other? The sound of crashing hooves is amazing. Shrews follow the same path under the tree stand I most often use when bear hunting.

Not a shooter.

I love to wild harvest my food. There’s far more responsibility in wild harvesting than in walking down the aisle of the grocery store. I dislike grocery stores. I’m counting down the days til bear season opens, followed by bird, followed by deer. We don’t have a fall turkey season in my district but I’ve been invited to hunt on a friend’s land in another district. I think I’ll take him up on it.

10. Hunters and other outdoors men and women who buy licenses, permits and stamps to hunt contribute to 95% of the budget for Maine’s Department of Inland Fisheries & Wildlife that doesn’t come from taxes. IF&W is mostly funded by outdoorsmen and women, not our taxes. We financially support wildlife conservation, game wardens who work to keep the wildlife safer, forestry, research and more.

 

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Bear Bait Barrels

June 26, 2012   Black Bear, Hunting, Maine, Maine Outdoors, Nature, Outdoors

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Baiting bears is a highly controversial subject in Maine, with PETA, anti-hunters and people who dislike and/or don’t understand bear baiting. I’m ok with that. We don’t have to agree. Don’t eat meat? I understand why. I do eat meat but I’m particular about what it is and how it was raised and harvested.

A lot of the searches that bring people to this blog are about bait barrels. Baiting starts at the end of July and the bear hunting season starts at the end of August. It’s a good time to share a little information.

This year, baiting can legally start on July 28, 30 days before the opening day of legal hunting over bait on August 27. Bears love sweets this time of year. We use day old sweets from a bakery. They’re also eating wild berries at the opening of the season. We don’t use enough bait in the barrel at the beginning of baiting to throw them off their wild food. They’re still hungry when they leave. They come in, eat for a short time and leave. We do give them more when when hunting season opens because we want them to spend more time at the bait. More time? So that we can assess each animal and make an informed decision on whether the bear should be left to grow or raise cubs or be harvested. Yes, I know, some are bristling at “harvested.”  I think we’re all very clear on that word. It means we shoot them, hopefully with a kill shot the first time.

I do eat bear meat. If I were to shoot a bear (I haven’t yet) bigger than the amount of meat we would eat in a year I would share it with family and friends. Nothing goes to waste on any animals we kill. That doesn’t mean we’re taking 100% of the animal home. We leave inedible parts for scavengers. The hide will be tanned. No part of any animal or bird we kill goes to a landfill

We use 50 gallon plastic barrels with a large hole cut in the side. Some hunters hang five gallon buckets in trees. It’s a good method. In order to get the bait the bear must stand on its hind legs and reach up. This exposes the heart and lungs, creating a good chance at a one-shot kill. I haven’t used a bucket but think I might this year.  There are strict laws we have to follow. The specific laws below are courtesy of Maine Inland Fisheries & Wildlife.

Hunting with the use of bait is defined as hunting from an observation stand, blind or other location which overlooks any bait or food except standing crops and foods that have been left as a result of normal agricultural operations or natural occurrence. “Bear Bait” means any animal or plant, or derivative of an animal or plant, used to attract bear. “Bear bait” does not include any packaging or container materials that fall within the definition of litter under Title 17, §2263.

Bait may not be used to hunt or trap black bear unless:

  • The bait is placed at least 50 yards from any travel way that is accessible by a conventional 2-wheel or 4-wheel drive vehicle; (I walk one-quarter mile to one bait, 200 yards to another, and a little more than 50 yards to a third.)
  • The stand, blind, or bait area is plainly labeled with a 2 inch by 4 inch tag with the name and address of the baiter; (Our label is at the head of the trail leading to the tree or ground stand, and at the bait.)
  • The bait is placed more than 500 yards from any solid waste disposal site or campground;
  • The bait is placed more than 500 yards from an occupied dwelling, unless written permission is granted by the owner or leasee;
  • The bait is placed not more than 30 days before the opening day of the season and not after October 31st;
  • The bait areas will be cleaned up by November 10th as defined by the State litter laws; and (The bears clean up the bait and we remove the barrels.)
  • The person hunting from any stand or blind of another person has permission of the owner of that stand or blind. (We have permission from the land owner at all times.)

I mentioned three blinds. Two baits have tree stands. I hunt from both of those. The third bait has a ground blind. I don’t know if I’ll ever be comfortable hunting on the ground. A loaded rifle doesn’t guarantee safety. Bears are very quiet in the woods. They walk on the pads of their feet. I didn’t hear a 400 pound bear coming into the bait because he was so quiet.

I saw four bears while sitting over bait last year. I did remove the safety but I didn’t aim or fire at a bear. The first bear was the 400 pounder. I was listening to another bear coming through dense brush when the big bruin appeared. I didn’t have a responsible shot at him. The bear I’d been listening too bolted. If I’d had a shot I’d have taken the bear I saw. The other three were in a different situation. If I’d been sitting in the woods without bait I probably would have shot a sow. I didn’t know she had cubs at first. If she hadn’t stopped at the bait and stayed long enough for me to see the cubs I could have created a potential disaster for the cubs. I wouldn’t shoot cubs with or without bait present.

The ragged hole isn’t a problem for bears. Their heavy fur coats protect them from rough circles, berry canes, bees and more.

This is the barrel I hunt over most often. You can see a little bit of bait left in the bottom from the day before. The log is big and heavy. It seems counter productive to block the hole but there’s a reason. The bear has to spend time moving the log. Even if it takes only 20 seconds, it’s 20 seconds I can spend assessing the bear. Bear hunters are out there with flying arrows and bullets shooting any bear that comes along. We’re making conscious, informed choices.

Note the small hole to the right of the large hole. The barrels are chained to trees so the bears can’t take off with them. It’s also a safety measure. When we get to the top of the path leading to the bait we need to know exactly where the barrels are so that we can see a bear if there’s on there.

The same barrel, showing some of the surroundings. The five gallon bucket is full of bacon grease from a restaurant. The red squirrels, mice and Canada jays (gorbies) were more interested in the grease until the end of the season when the nights were getting chilly.

The shape of the hole doesn’t matter as long as a bear can reach in with its paw.

This is the barrel at the ground blind. Notice that there are still two small logs in the hole. This usually means something small “hit” this bait. A young sow with cubs? Yes, at first. For some reason they stopped coming to this bait. Raccoons took over the bait so we stopped filling it. There’s no reason to feed raccoons.

Refilled and ready to go.

I’m not writing this to change anyone’s mind about bear baiting. I can share my knowledge so that someone might better understand what we do and why we do it. If you’re going to leave a comment please be polite. I have complete respect for differing opinions when they’re presented intelligently and respectfully, and you might teach me something.

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Bear Hunting

January 1, 2012   Black Bear, Black Bear, Hunting

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Originally published in Lancaster Farming in October, 2012
Bear Hunting
Robin Follette

The muddy road to my bear stand

I love a little mud but this is a bit much.

September didn’t go as planned.  I’ve been bear hunting! I planned to hunt on Saturdays with one or two week days tossed in as a bonus. Steve, my husband, works 60 hours a week so there’s little time to drive an hour to camp, check and fill the bait and get into the tree stand during the week. Deer hunting without Steve is one thing. Sitting in a tree stand while bears visit a bait barrel 25′ away is entirely different. He’s never sitting there with me but I know that he’s one text message and seven or eight minutes away if I need him.

We got a lot of rain at once. The road to the stand I sit in the most turned to muddy ruts.

Tree stand

This tree stand is on the “poplar site.”

The season for hunting bear over bait started August 29. A few days later I sat in a stand for six hours, shifting only when my right thigh begged to move or my left foot fell asleep. The first days were quiet. A large bear was coming to the bait but not while I was there. His head didn’t fit through the hole in the barrel. He or she had to reach in to scoop cupcakes out with its paw. I waited patiently. Chickadees and gray jays mobbed me and red squirrels dropped cones from tree tops. A rabbit slowly made its way through underbrush to the clearing. I was never bored.

Nothing between me and the bears but a ladder (and a rifle).

Bear bait barrel

The bait barrel and bucket of bacon fat as seen with a 300 mm lens from the dirt road.

On the first weekday, a Tuesday, Steve had to be in the area for work so I rode along. After his meeting we bounced through muddy ruts in the road to my stand. He filled the bait while I nervously climbed the ladder to my seat 15 feet off the ground. I wasn’t nervous about hunting; I’m afraid of heights. One step, two, deep breath, three, four, deep breath, deep breath again, don’t look down. At the top. Shuffle feet on a small platform to turn around, wiggle into seat, deep breath. Steve handed the 30-06 up to me. I loaded the rifle while he left.

Legal hunting ends 30 minutes after sunset. At sunset I heard a crack in the woods to my right. The woods are thick here unless it’s an area that has been logged recently. I couldn’t see anything. Fifteen minutes passed before I heard another noise in the woods. Brush against the bear’s side told me I had four or five minutes before it stepped into the clearing if he continued his pace.

Movement! A bear? I blinked. A huge head emerged from the brush behind the bait barrel. Was I really seeing a bear? I hadn’t heard it. I blinked again. A 400 pound black bear cautiously walked toward me until it was only 15′ from the base of my tree stand. My heart raced. I don’t know when it started beating so fast. I wasn’t overly excited about the bear coming in to my right because when it happened last year, the bear turned and walked away instead of coming into the clearing. This bear looked toward the base of the tree stand, shifting between front paws. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t bring the rifle to my shoulder because it would have seen me move.

A noise caught my attention. It was me, breathing loudly. I realized the bear could hear me. I worked to get it under control while concentrating on the bear I was about to tag.

The bear to the right grunted, causing my bear to swing its head to look. The break I needed was coming. Surely it would turn to face the bear to my right and would be broadside. I hoped so but I didn’t know that’s what would happen. It was the first time I’d seen a bear while hunting. I’d have to move fast but it was so close and so big it would be difficult to miss the vital spot behind its right front leg. Instead, it turned its attention toward my tree again. The other bear stepped on a branch and startled my bear. “Please,” I silently begged the bear, “turn.”

The bear to the right grunted again. My bear spun around and disappeared into the woods. It was over. My bear was gone. The other bear also ran. Weeks later, I’m still amazed that the biggest living bear I’ve been close to could move silently. I texted Steve to come get me.

Because life happens and circumstances change, I offered to fill baits by myself. Someone needed to do it, why not me?  After listening to “keep the rifle loaded, be careful near the baits, listen to what’s going on, pay attention” and other warnings, I set off on my own. I put two shovels of cupcakes and one scoop of chocolate sauce in buckets, one bucket per bait. After filling baits I ate lunch, changed into camo clothes and got to hunt. Baiting alone was a first and so was climbing the tree stand without Steve’s moral support. I had to learn to climb with my pack and my rifle, get the pack hung up and manage the rifle while I shuffled my feet to turn around. Steve was more concerned than I about my new experiences. Each day I texted him from the side of the fir tree. “I’m in the stand.” He was at camp by the time it was dark. I was grateful for that the night he had to come get me because an angry, love-struck bull moose was in the road between me and my truck. The moose “wugh wugh wughed” at the truck as it passed him. That moose is a story for another day.

My bait hadn’t been hit for several days during my second week of baiting but another bait had been. I changed to that stand and had another remarkable experience. Unlike the 400 pound bear that slipped in silently, the next bears were loud. I heard them crashing through the woods for a full minute before they arrived. Bouncing through the woods and tumbling into the clearing, two eight month old cubs made their way to the barrel 70 feet from the stand. The sow walked into the clearing, turned around and walked back out. She walked to my left, looking back at the cubs only once. It was hard to keep track of her and watch the cubs. They tumbled over each other, climbed on top of the barrel to get the gummy candies left on the lid, and half jumped, half fell back to the ground. The sow looked directly at me several times before moving out of sight. She didn’t make a sound. I’d lost track of her movements when she was what seemed like 30′ behind me. I was completely unnerved. “Don’t get between a bear and her cubs” has been told to me all my life. I didn’t get between them, she put me there, 12′ off the ground. I don’t understand why she behaved this way.

Bear bait barrel

The logs blocking the hole are there to give the hunter more time to assess the bear. The bear has to remove the logs to get to the food.

“Please don’t make me shoot you” ran through my mind. Had I seen her alone I’d have taken her at the first possible chance. She was  at least100′ from the cubs and paid them no attention. Thanks to the bait, I knew she was a sow with cubs and not a shootable bear. I worried that I’d lost control of my situation and might have to choose my safety over the bear. I don’t think she felt in danger. I think she’d have stayed with the cubs if she thought I was a threat. I am the only person to see the sow and cubs so I am the first person she’s seen in the stand. Maybe she was curious.

The cubs worked together to tip the barrel over and pull the logs out. They’d have rolled it down the slope if it hadn’t been chained to a tree. I wanted to leave but felt trapped in the tree with three bears on the ground.  One of the cubs noticed the light from my cell phone when I texted “sow and 2 cubs, nervous, come get me” to Steve. It bawled and scrambled up a nearby tree. The smaller cub glanced my way but was enjoying its cupcakes too much to be distracted by me.

It was after legal time and hard to see by the time Steve got to the top of the trail leading to the stand. The second cub disappeared. I didn’t see it leave and didn’t know where it went. I thought the sow was probably between me and Steve. “Make a lot of noise,” I yelled to Steve as soon as the truck door slammed shut. She moved again, closer to me than I expected.

“This isn’t good, Rob!” he yelled, “I can’t see anything outside the flashlight.” I scanned the woods with my light. We yelled back and forth to each other as he came down the trail. We didn’t see or hear the bears again.

I’m not disappointed that I didn’t tag my bear though I’ll miss having bear stew this winter. I learned a lot and gained a lot of confidence. I can climb up the tree stand easily now. Maybe next year.

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Fruit

January 29, 2011   Black Bear, Daily Farm Life, Growing Fruit, Homestead, Putting Food Up, Whitetail deer

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I had Steve as my captive audience today. He can’t get away from a talkative wife while driving 70 mph on the interstate. I’ve wanted to pin him down on an orchard and today was the perfect day to do it.

“If I order apple trees, will you clear the land for them?”  I’m going to order pears, peaches, plums and maybe apricots too but apples are his weak spot. He checks on the wild apples often from mid summer through fall. We pick and preserve the apples we need. The rest are left for the wildlife – deer, bear, partridge.

“Where?”  He knows where. I’ve talked about this for years.

“Same place as always.”

He was ready to plan with me. We’ve been waiting for three very big widow makers in my chosen area to finish falling. The heavy wind has finally done the job and the trees are down.Turns out he walked out there before the ground froze and discovered it’s a lot wetter than we realized. It won’t work. Instead, we’ll plant the saplings along the edge of the grass. There were more than two dozen apple trees growing in sight of the house when we moved here. Goats and browsing cattle killed a lot of them. I let them strip the bark because the apples on those trees were of no value to us.

I don’t know yet what varieties I’ll choose. I’m looking forward to an afternoon with the Fedco Tree catalog and a pot of tea.

I’m going to expand the raspberry patch this year. I have those plants already. I’ll dig up suckers and move them into rows. We have Heritage, Latham and Kilarney.

I’ll post more about the trees when I make decisions on varieties.

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Chickens

October 3, 2009   Black Bear, Daily Farm Life, Eat local, Food, Homestead, Putting Food Up, Small Farming

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There’s a feeling of satisfaction when we put up food we’ve grown or raised ourselves. We processed 22 eight week old Cornish rock chickens today. We set up, did the work and dumped the offal in about two hours. The birds came from Welp. We are exceptionally pleased with the quality. We’d have had 100% success if it weren’t for the damned raccoons.  We didn’t gut any of the birds this year. We removed legs and breast meat. It meant losing a small amount of meat in the wings but we’re ok with that. The trade off for time saved is well worth it.  The birds were raised on grass, slept in one of the greenhouses at night and fed minimal commercial food. One bird, a hen, was too fat but the rest were perfect. The birds were excellent foragers.  I’ve done so little farm work this year that it felt good to do something farmy today.

The greenhouse that’s planted is doing well.  The small gh housed chickens at night but is now empty. I’ll turn on the water to soak the bone dry ground and get it ready for the planting.  The new gh isn’t going to be planted until February.

Bird count – seven turkeys, six ducks and 11 laying hens. We’ll process four turkeys before Thanksgiving.

Pest count – two bears, 10 raccoons and one skunk. They’ve moved on, some under their own power and others with help.

Looking for – a farmcollie puppy in the spring!

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