Category Archives: Maine

The woods of Maine

Am I the one behind the times?

Backwater. Backwoods. Out of touch. Out of date. Woods queer. Stuck in the past. These are terms used recently to describe people like me. Obviously, they are not terms of endearment. They’re not positive images as they’re being used in these conversations.

Here’s a little about me, in case you’re a new reader. I hunt, fish, paddle, forage and have a one-acre garden. I raise chickens, ducks and turkeys for meat and eggs. I’m a dumbass with a smart phone I barely know how to use to make a call (it’s not set up well).  I don’t care to know more. I can make calls, text and send pictures. Apps? I have a great flashlight… All the other apps came pre-installed. My name is Robin, and I am an app failure…and I like it that way.

Fawn Runner Ducks

Fawn Runner Ducks

I’m on Twitter. I thought I’d enjoy sharing #TreestandTweets but it was annoying. I’m not sitting in a tree to tweet; save that for birds. I’m there to hunt and be aware of my surroundings. I have followers but I don’t follow the rule of following back everyone who follows me. I’ve never been to a Tweetup and have never felt the need to, even “for my career.”  I have a Facebook page for my writing but don’t post there a lot. No need to inundate anyone with reminders about me; they know where to find me.

Out of date. I’m anti-genetic engineering, anti-Monsanto, anti-food lot, anti-antibiotic in factory farms…I’m anti-factory farms. I know what’s in my food. Like a growing number of people who are paying attention, I provide at least some of my own food.  If you aren’t already providing some of your own food, you are behind the times.  I can feed myself with food I grow, raise and buy locally. So I’m out of touch, backwater, backwoods, stuck in the past, but I can feed myself.

I’m out of touch. My kids didn’t get cell phones until they were driving. We live 20 miles from the high school, further from their jobs. They had cell phones with limited amounts of minutes so that they could call us in an emergency. We <gasp> were pretty insistent that they communicate with people face to face. I’m not used to this commonly accepted bad habit of ignoring people in favor of someone else.

I’m out of touch even with a cell phone. If your phone rings in a restaurant and interrupts someone’s meal I won’t hesitate to tell you we are not in a phone booth. If someone else is more important than the people you are with at the moment, do the unimportant people a favor and leave. Get off the phone and communicate face to face.

Backwoods. You bet! Forty-five acres in the middle of thousands of acres, no neighbors in sight. I can feed myself from the land. We heat our home with wood, a renewable resource. I’m not depending on anyone to keep me warm. Or fed.

firewood

We burned four cords of firewood in the winter of 2012-13.

Woods queer: (adjective) a milder form of insanity that results from living in a rural isolated environment, typically the woods or forest.  Ok, I’ll claim that, but I don’t think I’m any more insane than the city or urban queer. We’re all a little insane (but some of us don’t know that yet) no matter where we live.

Backwater. Backwoods. Out of touch. Out of date. Woods queer. Stuck in the past. Happy. Satisfied. Fulfilled. Content. Well fed. Warm. Self sufficient.  It works for me.

The woods of Maine

I live here.

 

Preparing for a Successful Turkey Hunt

Preparation for turkey season starts well before opening day. You don’t want to find yourself shivering on the cold ground with a gun that isn’t equipped to do the job or worse yet, you’re unfamiliar with, and making odd noises with your new calls.

It’s never too soon to learn how to your calls in the comfort of your home. It’s perfectly acceptable to cheer using a big loud GOBBBBBBLE when someone scores a touch down during the Super Bowl. The family and friends celebrating with you will be thrilled. Or not…whatever. That’s not the important issue. Practice as often as necessary. I don’t practice outdoors when the toms start answering. I want them to think I’m the new tom in town, and I want them to be eager to strut in to check me out.

  • make time to learn the different calls hens make
  • when should you call
  • when should you not call
  • learn about owl and crow calls as locators
  • learn now to not make your crow call sound like a duck

Dress for the occasion. Choose camo patterns and colors that match the location you’ll be hunting. The clothes I have on at the end of April will have too much brown and not enough green for the end of May. I’ll need warmer clothes an hour before sunrise when I walk to my hunting spot than I’ll need a month later.

If you’ve never hunting from the ground, find a spot and sit still. Turkeys have excellent vision. It’s not as easy as you might think. You want something to sit on if you’re on the ground. Rocks, sticks, twigs, moisture and cold can make sitting still miserable.

While you’re sitting still, stay quiet. Turkeys also have excellent hearing.

Are you going to sit in a blind? Behind brush? Find your spot ahead of time. If you’re using a blind, put it up in time to let the birds get used to it. Turkeys are aware of their surroundings. They know when something changes.

Learn how to use your decoys. You don’t want to stand in the field fumbling with decoys while the turkeys laugh and point their wingtips at you. Learn to place your decoys and get out of the field.

Scout. Find the turkeys. There’s no use in sitting still on a cold morning, not making a sound, if there are no turkeys in the area. They don’t have to be in the field immediately at the beginning of legal hunting time, but they have to be close enough that they can hear you, and that you can call them to you. On a clear morning you can hear toms gobbling a mile away easily. Locate the birds a few days ahead of time.  Don’t frequently be in the area you’ll be hunting when you’re not hunting. The birds will move on if you’re there too often. Look for tracks in mud and sand along roadways. This is what you’re looking for:

Turkey track in mud

Turkey track in mud

Tracks are 3.5″ to 4.5″ long and 3.75″ to 4.25″ wide on a mature bird. In grass, look for manure. In agricultural fields, look for big “bowls” in the soil where they’ve taken dirt baths.

Find the area the birds are going up to roost at night. The spot they choose to end their day is where they’ll start the next day. I have Ricky, Lucy and Ethel. They move with the breeze and are realistic enough that the wild turkeys will try to peck them into submission.

What happens if you shoot your turkey and it doesn’t die? Be prepared to shoot again, or wring or stomp on its neck. They’re tough birds. I shot my first turkey and lost it when it flew away. We searched all over for it. I don’t know if it eventually died or if I only knocked feathers out. If I’d been able to take a second shot safely (it flew over my husband’s head) I’d have tagged the bird. Make sure you can get the second shell in before you hunt.

Know the pattern of your shotgun. This is the pattern of my .20 gauge at 18 yards

spray pattern for .20 gauge shotgun, 18 yards

Picture a turkey’s head in that pattern. You’re aiming for the head and neck. Knowing how wide the pattern will be at different distances will help you make a better shot. Use the ammo you’ll be using when you hunt. I’m hunting with my new Remington 870 12 gauge with a turkey choke, using a turkey load. The pattern above is an example only.

Know where you can hunt. Ask for permission from the landowner. Permission is not only common courtesy, it’s a big safety factor. If everyone asked landowner permission the landowner could tell you who and how many other people are hunting there. If I know someone else is hunting in an area and don’t know or trust them, I stay away. Steve was shot in a hunting incident. I need to know who’s out there.

We have a huge exception to asking landowner permission in Maine. Large timber management companies own large tracts of forest, fields and water in Maine, and leave them open to hunting. Many require a fee for bear baits and tree stands but I don’t know of any that require you to get a permit to bird hunt on their land. Check to be sure.

Eastern wild tom turkeys in Maine

We stroll through like we own the place.

Know the boundaries. I live in WMD (Wildlife Management District) 19. This district opened to turkey hunting recently. Until it opened we could hunt on one side of Route 6 but not the other. If you found turkeys on the other side of Route 6 you could try to call them to you on the legal side, but you risked calling them across the road in front of vehicles. If you watch North Woods Law you know that Maine game wardens are hiding directly over your shoulder watching every single move you make. They’re like moms – they know everything. Or it feels like it. If obeying the law to stay moral and ethical isn’t enough, think of the wardens. Take a turkey outside the legal area is not worth it. It’s just a bird.

Know the rest of the laws. Turkey season isn’t like other seasons in Maine. The hunt ends at noon, not 30 minutes after sunset. Read the book. Find a tagging station before you need it. Get your permits, they might not come with your license. Do you need a transport tag? How long do you have to tag your bird? Know the laws and save yourself time, money and possibly the loss of your hunting priviledge.

Nesting Bald Eagle

Remember the bald eagle taking a bath at Magurrewock Marsh earlier this month? I’m not sure if it’s the same eagle; if it’s not, it’s that eagle’s mate. The male is considerably older than the female. This is the third nesting season with him after his previous mate didn’t return. They haven’t yet hatched and raised an eaglet. Perhaps this will be their first year.

bald eagle nesting 2

I see you seeing me.

American bald eagle on nest, Magurrewock Marsh, Moosehorn National Wildlife Refuge, Baring Maine

This is the third year together for this pair of American bald eagles. They haven’t yet raised an eaglet together. She is younger than the male.

 

Mt Katahdin, Canon PowerShot SX50 HS

Mt Katahdin From a Distance

I stopped at the top of Town Line Road in Lee to take pictures of Mt Katahdin from a distance. It’s 49.37 miles from where I parked to the mountain, as the crow flies. I was pushing the limits of the new Canon PowerShot SX50 HS. A tripod would have kept the last photo clear.

Mt Katahdin with snow

Mt Katahdin in the distance, taken from Town Line Rd in Lee. 49.37 miles between me and the mountain.

katahdin distance

Snow on Mt Katahdin

Snow at the peak of Katahdin. 1200 mm zoom. A tripod would have kept the photo clear.

Beautiful Snowy Morning

I did a one-armed furniture move this morning and moved my desk to the bay window. There isn’t going to be much sun shining in to blind me this week so I’ll enjoy a new view while I write. I hung an energy bar outside the window, which is opened enough to let some fresh air and the birds’ songs in. “Pee wee. Pee wee. Pee wee.” Not an early phoebe, that’s one of the many calls of a black capped chickadee. Crows are cawing, flying and diving at each other. A red squirrel is throwing spruce cones to the ground across the road. The turkeys visited early this morning, much to Steve’s delight. He’s enjoying the “flying crap machines” now that there are only two.

Eastern wild tom turkeys

They’ve discovered the bird seed I put down for the ground feeders.They weren’t included on the list of birds I want to feed.

There’s a tiny bit of blue sky peaking through the clouds as it snows. This is the fifth or sixth day in a row it has snowed at least lightly. It has snowed during the past four weekends and random days during the week since the beginning of February; fourth snowiest February on record.

On a good note, Boss has started to lay again. We’ve been buying local eggs but I don’t think they’re very fresh. The whites don’t stand up well. At $3.50 a dozen, it gets expensive to buy them but eating factory farmed eggs is never an option. My new flock of mini, foraging egg-laying machines arrives the first full week of April. I’m not usually excited about chicks coming but these tiny fluff balls already make me smile and they aren’t even incubating yet!

The chickens, ducks and turkeys are loose outdoors today. The snow is sliding off the roof and will crush the ducks as they enjoy the puddles below, so everyone is out. I love looking out the window to see the birds. I filled a large pan with water for the ducks to bathe in and tossed down some cracked corn for them to peck at during the day. All is well in their world.

What’s good and wonderful in your world today?

American bald eagle, Magurrewock Marsh, Moosehorn National Wildife Refuge

American Bald Eagle in Magurrewock Marsh

I drove through Magurrewock Marsh in Moosehorn National Wildlife Refuge on my way home from archery practice this week, hoping to see the bald eagles. The eagles (two) were there and one of them was bathing in a break in the ice in the marsh. It was too far away for my 300 mm lens but I tried a few pictures anyway. They aren’t good quality but I’m sharing them anyway. I’ve watched robins, starlings, grackles and other small birds take baths in puddles but never a bald eagle in a break in the ice in a marsh.

eagle bath

eagle bath 2

American bald eagle, Magurrewock Marsh, Moosehorn National Wildife Refuge

American bald eagle, Magurrewock Marsh, Moosehorn National Wildife Refuge

It’s a Blizzard Out There

This story was printed in Saturday’s edition of Lancaster Farming. It’s Monday and I’ll be out cleaning up after another blizzard. We don’t have a blizzard each winter; two in a week is unusual. I’m daydreaming about paddling, open water fishing, complaining about the heat, mushroom hunting and berry picking. It’s the third week in February so I won’t be doing any of those activities soon.

It’s a Blizzard Out There
By Robin Follette

The weathermen talked about it for more than a week. The possibility of a major winter storm loomed but so far the right things hadn’t happened. If there were going to be a storm it would have to form soon. And form it did.

I live on the outer edges of the area predicted to get a lot of snow and high winds. Our forecast called for 12-20” of light snow and possible blizzard conditions. A blizzard, according to the local weatherman, meant winds would be sustained at 30 mph for most of a three hour period; visibility would be reduced to a quarter mile or less by blowing snow. This really doesn’t sound that bad. This is Maine, after all.

By Thursday we knew the storm was coming in late Friday. Preparations started Friday morning. There’s always plenty of food in the house so I avoided a grocery store trip to grab the last loaf of bread and gallon of milk. We had a problem with a young bobcat so the poultry has been thrown together in the hen house, and the ducks weren’t adjusting well. Being closed in with them for several days would be hard on the already traumatized ducks. They needed the break of being separated during the day but deep snow in the pen would put an end to that.

I grabbed a bale of hay and a pet carrier from the barn, and a couple of pallets from the stack out back, and headed for the hen house. With the birds shooed outside for a while and the dogs guarding them, I set to work. The three ducks got half the bale of straw for bedding and inside the carrier. I braced the pallets against the wide opening of the stall, filled feeders and declared the hen house storm ready.

After the five gallon buckets were filled with water, and the firewood was carried in, and a pot of chicken soup put on the wood stove to simmer for the day, I sat down to work and watch the noon news. The update called for 60 mile per hour gusts, maybe higher, but the amount of snow stayed the same.

The snow started falling early Friday but it was light. It seemed like a non-event. The wind didn’t start to pick up til later in the afternoon and wasn’t blowing hard until after dark. Around 1 am Saturday, I heard the plastic on the greenhouse roof flapping in the wind. As soon as I’d start to fall asleep again it would flap and snap, a little louder each time as the tear in the poly got longer. As the wind picked up the metal roof started to sing. I know it’s secure but it still makes me a little nervous. I got up, made a pot of coffee and curled up on the couch to read.

At sunrise the snow on the porch was deep enough to block the storm door. I pushed the door open and shoveled a path to the step, snow blowing back in my face no matter which direction I turned. The dogs went out with me to check on the poultry, all three of them following me into the hen house to get out of the blowing snow. The wind gusted between 60 and 65 mph off and on for hours.

High winds kept the snow from building up on the high tunnels, barn and house roof. It built up along the south side of the tunnels. The greenhouse is full of snow. It needed a good cleaning but I thought I’d wait til spring and do it myself. This isn’t what I had in mind. With nothing to lose now, we’ll trim the torn plastic so it doesn’t keep me awake when it’s windy and call it good. The 2” x 6” boards shifted and fell as the wind pushed and pulled at the frame. I’ll throw a tarp over it in the spring so that it warms up inside, let the snow melt and have a brand new roof on it (again) before I move seedlings in sometime in mid-April.

wind damage to greenhouse

The wind whipped at the torn poly so hard it collapsed the roof.

The storm slowed to flurries Saturday afternoon. Steve was able to clear the driveway with the tractor while I shoveled the back porch off a fourth time. I love an open porch until a winter storm blows through. We were fortunate, only 15” of light snow. Southern Maine was hit hard with record-breaking amounts of snow.

snow on high tunnel

Snow built up on the north side but over all. cleaning up was easy thanks to the blizzard’s high winds.

It’s snowing again today (February 11). It will be sunny and 35* tomorrow so I’ll start working in the high tunnels for the first time this year. I’m beginning to tire of winter and look forward to getting busy with spring work.

Hens and Chickens by Jennifer Wixson

Hens and Chickens by Jennifer Wixson

  • Paperback: 272 pages
  • Publisher: White Wave; 1st edition (August 5, 2012)
  • ISBN-10: 0963668986

Maine author Jennifer Wixson brings her knowledge of farming and live in a small town to words in Hens and Chickens. She moves Rebecca and Lila from corporate Boston to Sovereign, Maine to become egg farmers, a bold move for two city women who find themselves unemployed.

Sovereign is one town over from Unity. I’m getting to know Unity well as my daughter is a student at the college. It was nice to see places in town as I read the book. Wixson brings details to the story that only a local and farmer can share. In this day and age of discouraging and depressing news in the media, escaping to old fashioned values, romantic love and family dinners is refreshing.

I laughed out loud at a mouse and cheered on unexpected love. The characters become real as details about them, enough but not too many, become known.

While this is a heartwarming story, life isn’t always perfect. Heart break, a long-kept secret and the town’s lowlife business man ensure the story isn’t just a fairy tale but reflects real life.

Wixson’s unique method of storytelling kept my attention. I was a bit put off when her method took a drastic change but settled into it after a few pages, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. It’s an opportunity to meet Wixson as a person, not just as a storyteller.

Everyone needs a happily ever after now and then. What will be a trip back in time for many was a story of modern day times for me. I’m eager to catch up with characters I’ve met and get to know new ones in the next book in the series. I give Hens and Chickens five stars.

North Woods Law

North Woods Law, Kris MacCabe, white tail fawn, Maine game warden

Maine Game Warden Kris MacCabe bottle feeds a rescued white tail fawn.

Do you watch North Woods Law on Animal Planet? Season Two premieres tomorrow night. Along with Kris MacCabe, Alan Curtis and Cruizer (K9) you’ll see a lot of wardens who are new to the show this season. Poaching, finding the lost, hunting, fishing, education, rescuing critters, and making sure Maine’s laws are obeyed (or else!) are all part of North Woods Law. Warden Brad Richard helped me yesterday with a predator problem. I’ll be watching this season in hopes of seeing Brad on the show (I didn’t think to ask him while he was here.).

They’d like to have 15,000 likes on their Facebook page before the show starts at 9 pm Thursday, January 24. They’re short a little more than 2,000 likes as I write. Check out their page! You’ll see pics of the new wardens, updates on the show and more.

While I have your attention:
Thanks to Emily MacCabe for this photo of Kris feeding a “rescued” fawn. A well-meaning person “rescued” the fawn. White tail does leave their fawns, which don’t have a scent, for most of the day. Predators might find the doe but if they scentless-fawn isn’t with her, it’s safer.  If you care, leave them there.

Reading on Writers Forum

Ellie O’Leary invited me to be a guest on Writers Forum on WERU last week. I read two stories, both based on experiences I’ve had outdoors. One story starts out in a tree stand and takes a turn you won’t see coming. The second is an entry from my nature journal. Elizabeth Garber, the 2006 Poet Laureate of Belfast, was also a guest. You can listen to the show here.

Crack! Finally. The sound I’d been waiting for. Something heavy stepped on one of the dead trees crossing the path to the right of the barrel. “Please get here in time,” I thought. It was so far out I was sure it was coming from the edge of the bog. Time was running short. I heard one more crack, this time right behind me on the road. This was not what I was expecting. The bear was coming in behind me. Except, it wasn’t a bear.

From my nature journal:

We waited, not moving. She watched. We waited. She watched. She wasn’t relaxing, and we didn’t want to scare her away. And then the excitement began. Her attention was drawn from us to something we couldn’t see. There was something beyond the doe, at the edge of the field or maybe still in the trees, that concerned her. We were able to lean closer to the window to watch. To our right, a moose grunted. “Did you hear that noise? That’s a moose grunting. It’s the beginning of the rut.”

Counting Loons

This count took place in July and was published first in the Bangor Daily News.

The weather was perfect for my Saturday morning plans.  As always, I was up a little before 5 am to make coffee and prepare for the day. I cleared the memory card in my camera and changed the battery before tucking it into its case. My binoculars, notebook and pens were already in my pack. I laced my hiking boots, grabbed a fleece I didn’t really need, and headed out for a short drive to Patten Pond here in Washington County.

Patten Pond

A doe walked the side of the road on Democrat Ridge. She looked good. All of the does I’ve seen this year have looked healthy. I slowed the Jeep to a crawl and waited for her to disappear into the brush.  Further up the ridge I turned a hard left onto a grassy, rutted, narrow road leading to the pond. I mumbled to myself each time the bottom of my Jeep Liberty Renegade scraped dirt and rocks. “Lift kit…don’t care how stupid it might look.”

Loons on Patten Pond

I parked at a turn out, grabbed my gear and travel mug of coffee and walked the last quarter of a mile to the pond.  I know the spot I chose for my task well. There’s a granite boulder that sits almost level with the ground. Not comfy but it serves its purpose when I don’t want to sit on the cold, damp ground. I took a few pictures and scanned what I could see of the pond with the binoculars. I hoped the other participants cooperated and made themselves known.

7:00 am. The Maine Audubon’s annual loon count was officially under way.

7:01 am. A loon yodeled from the opposite bank, a bit to my left, giving me an idea of where to find them. There they were; the pair I expected to see. To my knowledge they are the only loons on Patten Pond. The sun rose behind them, bouncing on the ripples they made while moving through the water. It was hard to see them well.  Where was the chick? I saw a chick three weeks ago.

I watched closely, hoping to spot the chick as the loons moved slowly toward me. They stopped in the middle of the pond for baths. It’s fun to watch this but I needed them to move out of the direct line of the sun so that I could see clearly and officially count the chick before the loon count ended at 7:30 am. When they did move on they turned away from me and quickly disappeared from sight. If the chick was with them I missed it. I’ll return to the pond this Saturday morning to look for it again before I turn in my report.

Robin’s Outdoors at Bangor Daily News

Have you looked at the Outdoors section of Bangor Daily News? I enjoy it a lot. John Holyoke tells some of the funniest stories there. He’s not afraid to share his antics and let us laugh with or at him. Aislinn’s hikes and tips are great. Erin writes about hunting with her dad. Jim is kayaking from Kittery to Fort Kent. It’s a great section. My blog, Robin’s Outdoors, started last Friday.

It’s a great opportunity to reach more readers. The new blog won’t replace this in any way. I’ll still be writing more personal things here. I’ve been quiet this week while I met more deadlines than I’m used to having, not because I’ll be writing less here.

Coming up: I’m visiting Frost Pond Camps on Friday and hope to come back with an announcement. I’ll be kayaking on the St. Croix river between Maine and New Brunswick, CA on Saturday. I’m meeting Melissa (sister) Sunday morning to drive to western Maine for my first and her second whitewater rafting trip. We’re rafting Monday morning. I’m trying to not think too much about the whitewater part of this adventure. I desperately want to stay in the raft. In between, I have stories to write for a guest appearance on Writers Forum on WERU with Ellie O’Leary this fall. I’m wicked excited about meeting my co-guest John Ford, author of Suddenly, The Cider Didn’t Taste So Good. I’ll have a review about the book soon.

I’m enjoying a rainy day today. We need the rain. It’s starting to clear off in spite of my pleas for more rain for the garden and well. June was very wet, July was very dry. I’m crossing my fingers for an August that’s just right.

Maine Nature News

Did you know? I publish Maine Nature News, a 15 year old publication based on Maine’s natural history. I acquired it nearly five years ago. MNN is written by volunteer reporters who share their experiences and photographs.

Maine Nature News was founded by Frank Whibey. Frank was a wonderful man who was getting ready to retire and needed the freedom to go without having to compile and post the weekly report on Tuesdays. I’ve made a few changes, the biggest being blogging software that makes my work a lot easier.

I’m always looking for volunteer reporters for MNN. There are not promises of fame and fortune but it’s fun!

Traffic Signs in the Maine Woods

Signs like these are very helpful when traffic is heavy in the Maine Woods.

You wouldn’t expect to find two stop signs on a backwoods road in Maine, right? Train tracks!

Mile marker. Seriously. It’s the marker for mile 13 on the Bull Brook Road.

The 13 mile mark on Bull Brook Road

Traffic signs like these are very helpful in the Maine woods.

Girls Weekend Out

Girls Weekend Out, 2012. We were here. Not much happened. I’d never seen mosquitoes that fly in wind that bends over birch trees or in 87* temps until the weekend. They were horrible. We’re outdoorswomen. Throw on some repellent and go, but because of mosquitoes that didn’t care about DEET, we stayed in a lot more than usual. Looking down the barrel of a shotgun to find mosquitoes perched on the site is disturbing.

I saw the hind quarter of deer leaping into the woods one morning. A flying squirrel late Saturday night had us pointing flashlights at the ceiling and wondering if he was going to fly around the cabin for us. He was in the ceiling and after an hour of running back and forth, left through an opening four feet above my head. He was back Sunday night but I was sleeping downstairs so he didn’t keep me awake as long.

The satellite dish is deceptive. It doesn’t work. I don’t know if it ever worked. I crave peace and quiet so lack of satellite tv is a blessing. No television or cell phone, not even the radio. I’m content with the show outside, complete with bird songs, cracking branches as wildlife moves through the woods, and the occasional unknown noise that keeps me guessing about what else is sharing my space.

We tried to shoot clays but stopped when half of the clays broke upon launch. We checked them carefully, they weren’t cracked. I need to figure out what’s wrong and how to fix it so that we can get back to practicing.

I’m at my desk this morning with a story to write for Lancaster Farming, an introduction for Bangor Daily News and a first blog for BDN. I should also write a column. This morning, what I’d really like to do, is sit on the steps at camp and enjoy Mother Nature’s show.

Why Do You Hunt?

“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.

 

Fishing on Spednic Lake

When the glaciers moved through the Spednic Lake area of northern Washington County they didn’t consider the boats that would be on the water 10,000 years later.

A boundary marker between Maine and New Brunswick, Canada. Spednic Lake. Taken on the Maine side.

We’re able to fish the Canadian side of Spednic as long as we stay in the boat. Don’t step out of the country. I’ve never seen Homeland Security on the lake but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there. Who knows. Maybe they’re some of the folks fishing.

Most of the boulders are along shore. Great spots to cast into for bass.

We caught a lot of fish in a few hours. It was slow at first, probably because it was 92* and the water was just short of white caps. The trolling motor’s battery was weak causing Steve to have to concentrate more than usual on keeping us off boulders just under the water. When the sun dropped and the wind died down it didn’t take long for the bass to come in from deep water and start feeding. Steve always fishes bottom on Spednic. He uses crayfish and salamanders in various colors. He usually catches the most fish. I seldom have the patience to fish bottom because I find every nook, cranny, crevice, log and imaginary object to get stuck on. We’ve fished this lake for three years and I cannot for the life of me figure out what we’re different. He seldom gets hung up. We’re both using 6′ rods with bait casters and identical baits except for color. I’ll figure it out some day, til then I’m catching a lot of fish at the surface or a few feet down. I used a white and pearl Shad Walker by Picasso. Bass like it, but the two most fun catches I had were 20″ and 24″ chain pickerel that put up great fights. It’s easy to unhook the fish because the Shad Walker doesn’t have two sets of treble hooks. I can manage to put four hooks in a 6″ fish (annoying) if I have two trebles. Taylor used a Rapala CountDown for her 15-16 fish and it’s the CountyDown that caught the bass while it rested on the water when I watched Taylor reel in another catch.

One of Taylor’s 15-16 bass of the day.

Spednic Lake is 17 miles long, has 106 miles of shoreline to fish, and covers more than 17,000 acres. We’ve chosen our favorite spots to fish based on knowing where boulders are and the best fishing. Experience has taught us a lot. Last weekend we hit the water thinking we’d fish on the backside of some islands to get out of the white caps. Instead, we found ourselves in wind tunnels between islands that caused a lot of backlash on our bait casters. After an hour we decided it wasn’t worth it and went home.

Taylor got the most and smallest bass. Steve caught the largest bass. I caught the largest fish, a 24″ chain pickerel that put up a great fight.

Spednic is a catch and release lake for bass. The fishing is great because of this law but I firmly disagree with it. If I catch a bass, it swallows my lure and I can’t retrieve it, the line is cut and the fish goes back. We’ve released fish that obviously aren’t going to live. An American bald eagle is likely to swoop down on the injured fish that’s swimming in circles on the surface, catch it and eat it. I often wonder what happens to the hook and eagle that might become hooked. I recently read that 70% of fish that have cut-line hooks will expel the hook in 10 days. I don’t know if this is fact or feel-good misinformation. I don’t know if it applies to treble hooks.

I’m pro-conservation. If the fish is fit to throw back, by all means, put it back. We keep less than a dozen bass a year between three of us and between open and hard water. If the fish is going to die why not eat the fish and keep the hooks away from birds? I can think of two reasons. It would be a nightmare for the wardens to enforce. Anyone ca easily say “it was going to die.” Sports want to catch a lot of fish and the people who take them out (not all are Maine Guides, some are locals who hire themselves out) make their money this way.

 

Herding a Fawn

You can be outside every day and never run out of new things to see and do. I’m always in awe of something. A tiny bird opens its mouth to release a huge melody. We had a fun day planned with Melissa and Ken and Ken’s camp last weekend. The only way to get there is by boat and we hadn’t put our boat in the water yet. We needed to take a quick ride to be sure the motor would start and run. I always hope to see and hear loons when we’re on the water. I wasn’t expecting to see a brown spot moving across the water. It was far enough away that we couldn’t tell what it was but close enough to see that it wasn’t the right shape to be a loon or duck. It was a fawn.

The fawn was swimming away from shore into the open water on the widest part of the lake. The water is 24′ deep in that spot.

We moved in a little closer to the fawn and came between her and the opposite shore.

Steve moved the boat between the fawn and opposite shore so that she’d have to turn. The waves were turning to white caps as the wind kicked up and thunder was closer each time it rolled. She turned back toward shore. I wanted to scoop her out of the water and call one of two local game wardens to get her but Steve was adamant that the water was too rough to lean over the boat and struggle with a deer that would struggle against me out of fear. He wouldn’t do it. I was willing to take a dip if I fell in (wearing a life jacket of course) but he had no sense of adventure. We didn’t get close while she moved in the right direction but it didn’t take long for her to turn toward open water again. Steve continued to herd her with the boat and got her turned around again. “Come on, little deer! Doing good. Keep going. No, not that way! Turn around. That’s it. Doing good. You’re almost there.” He “coached” her from the boat for several minutes. She was slowing down but no amount of “Steve! I can get her!” was going to change his mind about me getting her out of the water. I thought he was giving in to me once when he got close but she kept moving so he wouldn’t get close enough. The boat broke some of the waves and gave her a little bit of a break from them.

She made it to shore but wouldn’t get out of the water.

We weren’t as close to shore as the camera lens make it seem. We watched from 100′ away as she first hit bottom with her feet then walked to the edge of the water. She stood there panting for several minutes while the storm got closer. She was out of the heavy wind but didn’t seem to be able to get out of the water. I was relieved when Steve hit the switch and the trim and tilt pulled the motor out of the water. He put the trolling motor down and eased in to shallow water thinking she’d get out of the water to get away from us. She didn’t. I handed him the oar and he stretched out to touch her. One nudge was all it took to send her scrambling over the rocks. She curled up under heavy branches of a balsam fir.

I hated to leave her there. Her mother was no where in sight. We assume something chased her (coyote seems likely) but we don’t know that to be so. We had to get off the water before the lightening got any closer. We did get the boat off the water and made the 15 minute drive home before the storm reached the house bringing hail, torrential rain, and wind that knocked down trees and put the power out. I kept thinking of the fawn curled up under the branches.

 

Doe & Fawn

A doe and fawn stood at the edge of the stream and watched us.

The doe washed the fawn.

The fawn washed the doe.

The doe crossed a shallow section of the stream, followed soon after by the fawn.

Bear Bait Barrels

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.