Category Archives: Whitetail deer

Eastern Wild turkey and Remington 870 Super Mag Bone Collector

Hunting Wild Turkeys

May 7, 2013   Eastern Wild Turkeys, Feature, Hunting, Life in the woods, Maine Outdoors, Turkey hunting, White tail deer, Whitetail deer, Wild Harvesting

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The day started with a 3:30 am alarm after a nearly sleepless night. My knee hurt enough to keep me awake and make me grumpy. Then I pulled muscles in my back while getting ready to go. Wasn’t this just going to be a great time. We knew where the turkeys should be and I wasn’t missing out on a hunt.

We drove to a spot close to home, got our gear out, walked into a great spot and got ready. Steve set up our decoys, Ethel, Lucy and Ricky. This was going to be the morning I got my turkey…my first turkey. I settled against a hardwood tree and Steve moved further into the woods, behind a few feet and to the right. He was ten feet away.

Steve made the first call, a ye-GOBBLE-lp. A tom gobbled before the yelping was done. I smiled. This was my day.

Something scurried in the brush right behind me. Skunk? It’s always the first thing to come to mind when I’m on the ground and hear something in the brush. It moved away, and I stopped thinking about it until Steve said, “Rob, look at the rabbit.” A snowshoe hare ate while we hid in the brush.

After a few minutes of back and forth yelps and gobbles it became obvious that there was more than one bird. They weren’t in a rush to get close. Steve called for ten minutes, then suddenly got no response. After the third unanswered call I wondered if they were moving toward us faster or were done with us. Seven or eight minutes passed before I heard a gobble further away.

I’ve been disappointed so many times when hunting (I’ve shot only partridge so far), and completely blown the one chance I’d had to shoot a turkey two years ago, that I don’t get excited when I think I might be going to finally shoot. Still, it was a let down when the answer came from further away.  We didn’t have a lot of time this morning.

Movement in the woods caught my eye. I couldn’t see them, just movement through the brush. “Here they come!” I heard dead leaves rustle, watched, waited, watched, and was a little disappointed to see a whitetail doe step into a clearing. She looked at the decoys, first with her tail up, then down, her ears relaxed. “Deer,” I whispered so Steve could see her. He called again to find the turkeys, and it didn’t bother her. Then I moved, just a little, and she heard me. I stayed still while she stared. Busted. I was going to be busted by a deer. She took three steps toward me. Steve called again and this time, a loud round of gobbles came back. The deer continued to watch the decoys. There were several of them and they were much closer. After several minutes I moved to startle her, convincing her to leave before the turkeys were in sight. Flag (tail) up, she bolted toward the road, and a yearling I hadn’t been able to see followed her.

Steve called again and this time, a single tom gobbled back. It wasn’t from the birds we’d heard. This one was directly to my right and further away. I listened a couple of times and decided it was coming up the road behind us. Steve moved to put himself in position to shoot.

It didn’t occur to me that this wasn’t going to be my day after all. I was glad that Steve was going to get his first turkey of the year, and we’d be having turkey breast for supper.

This one meant business. He came into sight quickly, spotted Lucy, Ricky and Ethel, and strutted in circles, puffed up and displaying like he ruled the forest. Steve brought the shotgun up, ready to shoot as soon as the tom gave him an opportunity for a good shot. It walked down the narrow path, into the clearing, and I smiled. He was big.

Steve hesitated, lowered the gun a few inches, then picked it back up and looked down the barrel. It was interesting to watch this first hand rather than on television. I’ve never been with anyone when they’ve taken their turkey. The turkey walked directly into the clearing, neck stretched forward, head out for a perfect shot, and Steve lowered the gun.

He lowered the gun. He didn’t shoot.

The tom walked out of my sight, close to the decoys, and I didn’t see him again.

Turkeys came out of the trees to my left, which was then behind Steve, and into sight. I clicked off the safety and raised the shotgun, a Remington 870 Super Mag Bone Collector Steve gave me for my birthday last month. I made sure I didn’t have brush between myself and the birds. My strict rule: clean shot, or no shot at all. I counted twice; five jakes. They looked about the same size. No one bird seemed larger than the rest.

Steve hit the button on the call and gave another yelp.

Five jakes gobbled at once, 25 feet from me. That excited me. They hesitated as they looked at the big tom and three decoys 20 feet ahead of and to the right of me. Steve called again. One jake took the lead while the other four stayed still. I thought I’d wait until one bird stood directly in front of me so I could be sure I didn’t miss. The pattern is very tight with the turkey choke. I was turned to my left a bit. I could be patient, but opportunity knocked. One more call. The jake in the lead took a few more steps, put his head up straight and tall, and I pulled the trigger.

“I got him!”

“Where’d he go?”

“Right there!” He didn’t go anywhere but down. One clean, perfect shot to the head. He didn’t know what hit him.

Eastern Wild turkey and Remington 870 Super Mag Bone Collector

Eastern Wild turkey and Remington 870 Super Mag Bone Collector

I did it. I got my first turkey. It really was my day.

Eastern Wild turkey and Remington 870 Super Mag Bone Collector

I shot my first turkey today mostly thanks to Steve. Ya, I made a great shot that I’ll shamelessly brag about for a while but I got to make that shot because Steve chose to pass on the big tom to give me a chance to see what was coming through the woods. I wouldn’t have been upset if he’d taken that turkey. We still have almost a month to hunt. I’d have been happy for him. He lowered the gun, and he let me have mine.

Eastern Wild turkey and Remington 870 Super Mag Bone Collector

My first turkey!

My small turkey weighed 14 pounds, 14 ounces. I’m calling it 15 pounds. I have one permit left. It doesn’t matter if the next turkey is bigger. As long as the population is thinned so they cause less damage to crops, the high tunnels, young fruit trees and gardens, weight is just a number.

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whitetail doe and fawn

Doe, a deer, and a fawn…

April 26, 2013   Deer, Feature, Whitetail deer

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Doe, a deer, and a fawn…

Did you start singing that? I did while typing. You can sing it all day now that I’ve suggested it. You’re welcome.

We went scouting for turkeys. That was almost a flop with only one hen spotted. We did find deer. Steve said, “Look at that deer!” It took me a moment to find her through the trees. She watched us watching her and stood perfectly still while I took pictures. I used the Canon PowerShot SX50 HS.

whitetail doe

She looked over her shoulder often but I couldn’t see anything.

whitetail doe

whitetail doe

She reminds me of a kangaroo

We moved on to avoid disturbing her too much and got back to the business at hand – finding turkeys. Jokes on us, right? Turkeys? Ha ha.  We reached the clearing, found nothing and headed back to the main road. Steve spotted the doe again and this time, she had company.

whitetail doe and fawn

The doe and her yearling fawn.

whitetail doe and fawn

Whitetail fawn

Look closely as its left ear.

They turned and walked away when they were tired of people watching. Apparently two people sitting in a big red truck are not very interesting.

whitetail doe and fawn

Whitetail doe walking away

 

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Whitetail Deer

April 6, 2013   Deer, Maine Outdoors, White tail deer, Whitetail deer, Wildlife in Maine

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One of a half dozen whitetail deer I saw yesterday.

deer black ears

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Easter Buck

March 31, 2013   Maine Outdoors, Nature, White tail deer, Whitetail deer

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White tail buck in spring

Easter Bucky

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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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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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Herding a Fawn

July 5, 2012   Maine, Maine Outdoors, Nature, Outdoors, Whitetail deer

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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.

 

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Doe & Fawn

July 2, 2012   Maine, Maine Outdoors, Nature, Outdoors, Whitetail deer, Wildlife in Maine

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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.

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A Beautiful White Tail Doe

June 12, 2012   Hunting, Maine, Maine Outdoors, Nature, Outdoors, Whitetail deer, Wildlife in Maine

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I didn’t see her until Tammy pointed her out. “Stop! Deer!” She pointed to a big, beautiful doe at the edge of a clearing. I managed to get two photos of her before she disappeared over the bank. I’m not sure if she’s still pregnant or if she’s given birth, but I’m sure she’s a mother. Her udder is full. I live in an area where there are very few deer. We aren’t allowed to hunt does. Bucks barely stand a chance. Too many people will shoot a 17 month old buck with barely legal sized antlers rather than let it mature. Fawns are born from late May to mid June; rifle season opens the last Saturday in October. It’s unfortunate. A meat from deer that young is barely worth the expense of license, ammo, gas, license, equipment and the cost of processing if you don’t butcher your own deer.

A pregnant or newly-delivered doe walks away from the camera.

It’s good to see healthy does and hear of the fawns being born this year after a mild winter. I hope hunters, myself included, give a lot of thought between now and the beginning of the season to letting the small deer walk, especially in areas like mine where deer are few and far between.

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Comparison: Deer and Moose Track

June 10, 2012   Maine, Maine Outdoors, Moose, Nature, Outdoors, Whitetail deer, Wildlife in Maine

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This is a great size comparison between a moose and deer.

Moose and deer tracks

 

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A Successful Morning Hunt

May 3, 2012   Hunting, Maine, Maine Outdoors, Outdoors, Whitetail deer

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BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

I hate it.

It makes me want to throw the phone through a window. The alarm. I hate waking up to an alarm. It’s just plain rude. I was half awake, half asleep and knew it would be going off soon but that didn’t make it better. It was worth it though. It was the warmest morning so far, almost 40*, and sprinkling when we left the house to hunt turkeys.

Up at 3:30 am. I did a little rewriting before we left to hunt. We made a few stops, called and heard nothing. A tom gobbled off in the distance as I climbed down out of the truck on the fourth stop. Another tom, further away, answered him. We went through and around wet areas, climbed over downed trees, scratched our way through raspberry bushes and found a place to sit. Steve set up Lucy, one of our decoys, and called. They were too far away. We couldn’t call them in.

On our way to another spot where we’ve seen turkeys, a hen walked from the road into the woods. There’s a 30′ wide strip of cleared land between the pavement and woods so we were able to see her well. I’d say she’s going to be a year old this spring. She’s the first turkey we’d seen since the hunting season opened on Monday. We were barely passed the turkey when Steve said, “Look at the bear!” A big sow walked the grass road coming down a ridge. Steve slowed, then backed up, and we watched her for about 30 seconds before movement caught our eye. A yearling cub followed her off the road and into the trees. Without leaves on the trees it was easy to see them. The weren’t too concerned about us as they made their way across the ridge, away from us. Their coats are shiny and still thick. They looked very healthy.

We rode in on the road where I sunk the Jeep two days ago. Tammy and I were turkey hunting. The road turned from gravel to sloppy mud instantly. We could feel the Jeep sink until it bottomed out with the skid plate sitting on the ground. There weren’t any logs or enough rocks to use to give us some traction so I called Steve. Back there, the next day, the road has refilled itself with mud. Back on Route 6, the turkey crossed the road in front of us and walked into the woods, probably back to her nest.

We most likely scared a turkey back into the wood at our last stop. We tried anyway. Steve set up Lucy and Ricky, and called. Nothing. It was worth the walk. We saw three deer. Steve felt a little bad that we didn’t see anything shootable. I still haven’t gotten my first turkey. I’m not disappointed. I don’t have much hope for tagging a turkey this year. The feathered flying monsters that I love to hunt but hate to have around the farm have broken up from the rafter of around 30 birds and gone into the woods already because of the early spring. Hens have been on nests for two weeks. We have until June 2 to hunt. The toms usually rejoin the hens when the poults hatch. Maybe I’ll get one then. If not, yesterday was still a fantastic day. We saw the first two turkeys we’ve seen since the season opened Monday, two bears and three deer. I wouldn’t have seen anything sitting at my desk at home.

 

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Tidying Up

April 24, 2012   Maine Outdoors, Nature, Outdoors, Whitetail deer, Writing

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I’m tidying up around here while it’s cold and overcast. Once the sun comes out I’ll be enjoying the outdoors and thoughts of links, needless widgets and such. I’ve deleted the links from exchanged that weren’t reciprocated. If you’d like to exchange a link about writing, gardening, homesteading, agriculture or the outdoors (hunting, fishing, kayaking, hiking, camping, nature), please let me know.  Are you spring cleaning your blog? What are you doing? Maybe I’m missing something I’d like to add or there’s something I should take out.

It’s time for a break. The dogs are ready to go out to play. While we’re out I’ll check on the water level in the pond. Three inches of rain yesterday should bring the pond up by 9″ thanks to run off from the bank, natural springs in the bottom of the pond and a small “stream” that runs into the pond when a low section of the lawn floods. No need to worry about lawn chemicals running into the pond here, we don’t use them.

I’ll have a deer tale coming up soon!

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Molunkus Stream Camps, Day Three

August 27, 2011   Deer, Maine Outdoors, Moose, Nature, Outdoor Women, Outdoors, Whitetail deer

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A spider web in early morning sunshine

Day Three

We didn’t want to leave camp and avoided talking about it. After another leisurely morning sipping coffee on the porch steps, watching ducks in the stream, we headed out to explore again. More mushrooms, flowers, caterpillars and oops, poison ivy. “What’s that saying about poison ivy,” I asked.

“Leaves of three, stay away from me,” she replied.

“Crap.” I was up to my knees in it. I backed out. Back at camp later, I peeled them off, inside out and put them into a plastic bag. One poison ivy rash in my life was enough.

“Let’s have your big lunch later, pack up and go to the stand. We can leave to go home from there.” Tammy made fried chicken, new potatoes and fried okra for lunch. Delicious! It didn’t take long to pack the Jeep, clean camp and leave.

The first hour in the observation stand was quiet, then Tammy spotted a large, dark-colored doe walking into the left side of the field. She grazed way to the apple tree. I couldn’t tell if she was eating apples or leaves. Healthy, large, beautifully colored and moving with grace and ease through tall grasses to get get to a patch of clover; she was perfect. She must have heard one of us move. Her head snapped up and she started into the eight foot long window of the observation deck. We froze. She knew we were there.

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. A noise drew her attention from us to something we couldn’t see. There was something past the doe, at the edge of the field or maybe still in the trees. We were able to step closer to the window to watch. To our right, a moose grunted. “Did you hear that noise,” I asked Tammy. She did. “That’s a moose.”

Where to watch? The doe, still frozen and staring at something, or to the right where a moose might step into the clearing. A branched cracked under the moose’s feet. It was walking parallel to the clearing, still far enough into the trees that we couldn’t see it. Our attention went back to the doe.

When deer are angry they “blow.” The doe blew once, stomping a front foot at the same time. A light-colored, large doe stepped into sight. Ahhhh. She’s the problem. The first doe blew again. A stare-off lasted a few minutes. Did one or the other blink? Something happened. They charged each other, rearing up on hind legs, still running. I thought they were going to bang heads. AsI flinched at the expectation of banging heads, both turned slightly and hooves started flying. We could hear hooves clashing together. It ended quickly and both does were on four feet again.

The lighter doe disappeared from sight, followed by the darker doe. Directly to our left, something large, probably the moose, stepped on another branch. A sharp crashing sound made the doe blow again. Before the excitement was over, she blew a total of nine times. We didn’t see them again but followed them by sound up the slope and into the woods. It was getting dark. Time to go home and wait impatiently for our next adventure in the Maine woods.

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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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Hunting Season

November 12, 2009   Homestead, Whitetail deer, Wildlife in Maine

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button horn buckling

button horn buckling

It’s hunting season again. Last year I dragged readers through a dismal season. I didn’t see a deer during legal time.  I’m hunting again this year. It’s better this year though. There are fewer deer but I’ve seen three during legal time. They’re does and I can’t shoot a doe, but I’ve seen them!  I’ve seen a buckling eating peas in the back of the field. He’s too small and isn’t legal anyway.

Doe eating apples under the tree.

Doe eating apples.

A doe came in to eat under the apple tree during the night. I’m not sure if there’s more than one. There are photos from the game cam taken over night of three does coming in but I have no way of knowing if it’s one that leaves and comes back, two or three.

And then came the buck. I’ve been watching his tracks. There isn’t a photo of his antlers but look at the size of his neck.

Buck, sexed by his thick neck.

Buck, sexed by his thick neck.

 

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