Opening Day

Guns loaded, gear prepped
Liquored anticipation
Will dawn prove fruitful?

Foundational concern

For the (very) few of you who read this from time to time, this post is more for me - so I apologize if I don't make an effort to be especially clear.

I've been in school for a long time. That, by itself, is not frustrating. I've accepted that this "road" takes times. I'm convinced it is was the only road for me and I'm committed to it. However, I'm stuck up against a frustrating wall of statistics that's halting progress on all of the many projects I need to finish before graduating or publishing or feeling successful in any way.
What's more frustrating, is that most people ignore this problem and I could be much, much further "ahead" if I, too, was willing to ignore it. The bottom line,however, is that the way we found landowners to participate in our survey is biased toward owners with larger properties and we must correct for this bias as part of any analysis. The nagging and discouraging fact that won't allow me to ignore this is that it is not a small bias. And it impacts almost everything. Size matters, ha.
There is a silver lining in this. No one doing forest landowner research has bothered to pay attention to this before. Everyone doing forest landowner research uses USFS data and results - which are similarly biased. Showing this and the affect on results will be huge. And that's what will keep me going.
But the survey went out 2 and a half YEARS ago. Fuck. And I can't even run basic statistics on the data...how many landowners own for timber? What percentage have harvested? How many post their land? All of this is wrapped up in acreage and currently, "unwrappable."
I look like I'm not making any progress. Fact is, I'm unwilling to build analysis, conclusions, nor papers on a knowingly unstable foundation. And I'm making a lot of progress toward defining and correcting for this foundational problem.
As I work on characterizing this problem and work through paths to address it, I'm realizing there are some types of analysis I can do in the meantime (show the relationship between acreage and other variables, look at our visit data and line up potential analysis - some may be doable now).

I'm frustrated with this basic problem. I'm unwilling to move forward on a crumbling foundation. I'm tired of looking like a slouch, though. I hope it was clear to my committee, during my comps, that I am thinking about these issues, I am thinking about how to analyze this quantitative data, I do have new ideas about landowners and their approach to ownership and management of their forests. But in good conscience, I can't move these ideas forward until I know my analysis will be correct. Beyond the fact that the results would be wrong, it's dishonest, unprofessional, and paying it attention will change the way PFL research is done.

3000 words

Halloween Deer

The trick-or-treaters (a mob in the thousands that descend as vultures on Centre Hall to devour sweet and chocolate with god-awful speed) invaded on Thursday, October 30th this year, to avoid any conflict with all important Penn's Valley football scheduled, almost religiously, for Friday night. Good thing, too, as I got to go hunting Friday night.

Headed up to Treaster afte working on my colloquium presentation all day. Was a bit jittery from the pot and a half of coffee I'd drank during the day, but made my way out to the permanent stand around 4:00. It was a beautiful day. Blue sky, no clouds, a touch warmer than the past few days, and the last of the fall foliage hanging on for just a little while longer. I had a really good feeling about the evening - I knew something was going to happen. For some reason I kept picturing the hole a broadhead makes in hide.

Around 6:00 I saw some movement about 100yrds away at the corner of the thicket. I had brought my binoulars with me and glassing showed a small spike with brilliantly yellow antlers and a good size doe making their way down the trail. It was directly down-wind and I assumed this would end poorly, without a shot - me getting busted by my bad breath :)

Instead of walking directly down the trail, these two moved diagonally into the thicket - good from a wind direction perspective, but bad from a "oh shit, they're going to just walk away" perspective. I could see now there were at least four deer in the pack and I must have missed the first (or last) two - still unsure. As they were all headed further down into the thicket I decided they would just disappear if I didn't spark their curiousity. Whether it was the coffee, my undevoted attention to work, laziness, or stupidity, I'd forgotten a bunch of gear at home, including my bleat call. Instead, I turned my head the opposite direction (didn't want to yell right at them) and bleatted a couple times. I was happy to see it didn't immediately scare them off and even more happy when it looked like one of them was coming up to check the area out.

One doe peeled off from the group. She slowly made her way through the red maple saplings and briars stopping for minutes at a time to check the wind and listen for anything strange. One more bleat changed her mind when she turned back to join the others. As she reached the edge of the thicket I pulled up the bow, ready to draw. I don't think she saw me move, but that deer looked directly up at me right then. I held as still as I could for the whole 5 min she watched me. With the bow fully extended my arm slowly started to shake - I thought this was it - she's going to see me, or smell me, or stand here so long I won't be able to shoot. Thankfully, I was wrong.

Don't know if she gave up trying to figure out what I was or was turning around to join the others, but she took a couple steps to her right giving me a full broad-side view. I wasn't going to wait to watch her walk away so as soon as her eyes were behind a few leaves, still clinging to their branches, I drew. I knew she was further in the thicket than I had hoped when I envisioned the shot from my stand, but it was a perfect shot at just under 20yrds. I put the 20yrd pin on the top of her back, slowly let the bow drop until that point was just behind the shoulder and let the arrow fly. The arrow must have been deflected by a small branch or something, but it didn't hit where I had aimed. Instead, it clipped her directly in the back and she dropped immediately to the ground. I'd hit her in the spine and she had no movement in her hind quarters. She tried to get up and move, but found herself lodged against a tree. It didn't take long for the broadhead to cause enough bleeding for her to expire. I did throw another arrow at her to try putting her down for good, but she was even further into the thicket now and that arrow too was deflected, this time finding a solid maple sapling instead of the bread basket I'd aimed for. I waited about 15min before climbing down.

Again, whatever the reason, I didn't have any of my needed gear on me. No knife, no headlamp (it was quickly getting dark), and no tarp to put her on in the back of the 4runner. I headed back to the car and then home to get the gear. Long after dark I headed back into the woods and found her again, cleaned and brought her home.

Good to get a tag filled early. Makes the rest of archery relaxing. Allows me to focus on buck hunting. Allows me to watch deer more instead of searching for the first good shot. Looking forward to the last two weeks...

Toftrees Pheasants

Got back from DC today where Libby ran her marathon. She qualified for the Boston Marathon and ran at an amazing 8:20 mile pace. After heading to school, doing some work, and attending the always-exciting colloquium, I took the dogs out to Toftrees for a quick tromp. As they dogs had just spent 2 days in at Lyon's Kennels they were rowdy and raring to go. Unfortunately, although I had most of my gear loaded up, I'd forgotten any footwear besides the slip-on, "dress" shoes I'd worn to school. Not one to let such a minor matter get in my way, we headed out anyway figuring we'd just avoid wet and muddy spots...
A bird shot behind us fell within Porter's zone of awareness and was quickly retrieved - I had to bring it back to the party that had shot it and apologize for my dog's over zealousness and greed. Not unusual...
We parted and the dogs quickly got on some good scent - a running rooster. Porter was on it's tail and finally got the running bird up in the middle of some honeysuckle. One shot and the bird fell into the middle of the tangled vegetation. I could see Porter in there with the bird in his mouth unwilling yet to exit the protection offered by the bushes and relinquish his prize to me. I put T on heel and Porter quickly followed, bird in tow. A soft "give" got the bird from his mouth, although a good number of feathers remained. So funny to watch them get those out.
A long walk then, around the edge of the property, found us on the backside of "big ugly." Along one row the dogs got birdy and, after working for a while, pushed up a hen on the far side of a row of small aspens. I passed on the shot both because there was too much in my way and I'd hoped to fill the vest with two roosters today.
Another hen was busted up from along one of the water pipes; no point, no running, just bumped. Let that one fly, too.
As we approached big ugly, I sent the dogs into the cover on the right. I rounded the corner to the right and sent Porter, who had exited the cover, into one of the rows on my left. Hadn't heard T exit or move recently so I checked back to my right and caught glimpse of him on point. Headed into the cover. As I got close, two roosters flushed - one shot took down the one to my right. As I looked back toward T, I saw the second rooster falter...perhaps injured by another hunter? T was on it in a flash. Not wanting to get in trouble for having three birds, I called T off and retrieved the bird I'd just shot. I don't know what happened to that injured bird although it's likely T put it out of it's misery (if his summer groudhogs are any evidence). Too bad the game laws wouldn't allow for me to put that bird to use - I'm sure it will get "used," though, by some animal.
I've been enjoying the grouse woods (got one last week), but it was nice to be back at Toftrees and hear the cackle of roosters. And of course, walking back to the truck with tail feathers poking out the vest front is always nice.

First Bird '08

The heavy frost of the morning gave way to an unusually warm, blue-sky, fall day. Started the day on campus in colloquium, but left quickly afterwards and played hooky with Paul for the rest of the day. For his birthday I bought a 100 rounds of sporting clays at Warriors Mark Shooting Preserve. We headed down there with a couple shotguns and a pile of shells for the afternoon. I’d never shot a sporting clay course – 18 stations with throwers set at different angles, positions, and speeds. Pairs of clays are shot from each station in either following or report fashion – the former being two clays thrown in rapid succession, the latter, two clays thrown in sequence with the second clay thrown upon the report of the gun firing at the first clay. We each shot 100 rounds with varying success – many of the stations had clays flying at severe angles and speed and removed from the station a good 50 yards or more. It really made you think hard about the arc of your swing, the lead time, and overall form. Timing, too, was big from some of the very distant throwers. I think the final tally was 56 for Paul and 61 for me. Certainly a lot of room for improvement, but definitely something I hope to do again soon.

We took a quick drive around the preserve after talking with the owner for a bit. They have beautiful fields and some thick lowland areas for hunting. One guy was out hunting his lab – made me jealous. We also got a chance to watch a pair of hen pheasants feeding in one of the cut rows. You don’t get to see that much so we watched through the binoculars for a while before heading home.

On our way home, we stopped and peered into Spruce Creek along the Harpster property where Jimmy Carter fishes. Huge browns and rainbows dashed for cover under the bridge. As we pulled away, a Bald Eagle soared along the stream channel just overhead lit brilliantly by the afternoon sun.

At home I found wired dogs, crazy from a day being cooped up, and an urge to take the DeHaan out for a walk. I’d used the Remington all day at WM as shells are much easier to come by and cheaper than for the 16ga. Plus, seeing those pheasant gave me an itch for the flush of a bird. As light was fading, I quickly loaded up the dogs and headed up to Greens Valley for a quick hunt. We worked the pines just to the left of the side road – nothing – then headed up to the right of the side road gate. On the edge of the side hill thicket the dogs flushed a woodcock. It went fluttering up and off to my left as the gun rose and fired. I didn’t see it go down, but was pretty sure I’d made a good shot. “Dead bird” got the dogs going and quickly on the downed timberdoodle. First bird of the year. Tried to take some time with the dogs to enjoy the moment and get them riled up by our first kill. The dogs, however, needing no more encouragement, weren’t happy about a break in the action and although interested in the bird were more anxious to get going again. We circled through the thicket and worked the cover until dark – no more flushes here today. Maybe later this week…

Thoughts from Colorado...

10/10/08
From my view on the front porch of cabin #7 at Bear Creek Cabins in Evergreen, CO I am watching Ben and Christine fish not 20 feet away. We flew into Denver last night, stayed at the Hilton and ate breakfast this morning before driving west into the mountains. Tomorrow we fish the South Platte River – the “north fork meadow section,” a private stretch of water with truly monstrous fish. Until then, however, Bear Creek will keep us busy with 6-10 inch rainbows eager to snatch most any fly from the surface. The altitude is playing with my head a bit – hope it’s not a factor tomorrow as we have the whole day to chase trout. Very surreal to have left the rush of life behind, if only for a few days, and find myself in the Rockies scanning the slopes for mule deer and other wildlife. Hope to have a few fish to tell of tomorrow.
10/11/08
I love waking up for fishing and hunting trips. No matter the alcohol consumed nor the few hours of sleep had, I always wake up before the alarm clock, well rested, eager to start the day. Today, being in Colorado, preparing to catch monster trout, it was especially true. Got up at 6:20 and started the bacon – a good breakfast was in order for our long day of fishing in the rain/snow and wind. With breakfast eaten we got the gear packed and headed out to meet our guide and the Conoco on Rt. 235 outside Swanee.
10/12/08
I’m sitting in the terminal at Denver International Airport watching people go by. Thoughts about the direction of life are consuming. Being here, fishing, among the steep mountains and meadows has toyed with my confident commitment to the East. There is an appeal here, too cliché for me to embrace completely, but present nonetheless. Part of it has to do with having stayed this weekend in a rather rustic cabin, fire place, rough sawn timbers, inconsistent heat/water, charcoal grill, so close to a stream. My life has been focused on doing “good,” contributing in some productive way, and I’ve held contempt if not disdain for those willing to selfishly live life for themselves. But it seems as I get older, the world is less and less deserving of my commitment, my energy, and the difference I can make seems smaller and smaller. Why not, then, pursue my paths? Why not let life direct me to my future, rather than fight the current with such firm resolve? There are ways to do both – teaching is likely a good middle round. But thoughts of money are also overwhelming. There is so much money out there and people a lot less smart have much of it. It’s not a means to happiness, per se, but the freedom to enjoy life, pay bills, and make ends meet without stress is more than appealing.

South Platte escape from reality

I love waking up for fishing and hunting trips. No matter the alcohol consumed nor the few hours of sleep had, I always wake up before the alarm clock, well rested, eager to start the day. Today, being in Colorado, preparing to catch monster trout, it was especially true. Got up at 6:20 and started the bacon – a good breakfast was in order for our long day of fishing in the rain/snow and wind. With breakfast eaten we got the gear packed and headed out to meet our guide and the Conoco on Rt. 235 outside Swanee.

Walking down to the stream, we passed a clear, freshwater pond and watched the trout scurry away from us as we passed the inlet stream. We tied on our rigs at the stream's edge and let Ben take the first dozen casts - couldn't take much more so I jumped in and started working a small side channel. Felt bad, but had a fish on in the first few casts...sweet fish about 17 inches. I still have no idea how to gauge weight so I'll leave those guesses out. It was still pretty darn cold so there wasn't much of a fight from any of the days first fish - luckily this changed later in the day.

I caught four nice sized fish in that first section, Chrstine two...Ben none - luckily he moved up stream, tied on his own BHPT and caught a couple soon enough. As the photo documents, he also caught the biggest fish of the day.

The first part of the day was surreal; the weather was erratic with sun, rain, snow, and wind. Cold. Huge fish. Not a lot of fighting. And trying to listen to the guide who was determined to change our fishing styles. As the rain fell, Ben headed back to the car to get his raincoat and the guide took that as an oppotunity to move us downstream (via car) to a different section. A few more holes here. The stream channel in both sections seemed will manicured with huge boulders lined at regular intervals to set up riffles, pools, riffles, pools...beautiful, if manmade. Certainly made for great holding water.

Unfortunately, we didn't have any dry fly action, just nymphing. Caught most of the fish on baetis, black beauty, egg patterns, caddis larva, and bead head pheasant tails...all with indicators and weight to get them at the bottom.

I definetly learned a lot from the guide. First was his set up - a split tippet approach with two flies and lots of weight instead of a tandum set up with all the weight in the lead fly. Worked very well and has inspired me to find some more appropriate sinkers. Second, it was clear I need to think a bit more about drag than I have been. I've always been conscience about not letting my line drag my fly around, but I doubt I've been as meticulous about it as may be needed. Wonder how many fish I've missed simply because of drag? Going to try keeping less line out and be more deliberate about my drag in the future. Similarly, the guide was very good at reading and targeting different "lines" of water. It was eye opening to see such a (again) deliberate approach to hitting each line of water with a few casts - definitely thougth about this, but may have got lost in my eagerness and missed certain areas. Won't let this happen again. Lastly, it was good to have some reassurace about landing large fish. I've lost a few large fish in the past and now have a more defined strategy for landing these big boys: put them on the reel, reel them in as you move closer to them when they're not running...lift their head with your pole as you scoop with the net. Some of this is intuitive and I've done in the past, but never quite put it in order in my head for easy reference :)

All told, it turned out to be a great day. Great to catch so many large fish, great to be surrounded by the foggy, rainy mountains, great to see Ben with those shit-eating grins on his face.

Why do western fish have to be so much bigger?!?

Start of Archery

PA archery season opened this past weekend. The weather was looking great for the early season: cold and clear. Paul was able to get out for the morning so we had plans to meet at Colyer. Somehow, all the meteorologists got it wrong...big slug of rain coming down from about 5am to 10am, exactly when we were going to hunt. I'll hunt in a lot of weather, but 40 degree rain on the first day of archery aint it. Came home and did work for the day and headed back out in the afternoon. Sat in my permanent stand set up off of Thickhead Mtn road. Didn't see anything while it was light out, but jumped at least 5 on my walk out - they're there - it's just a matter of time.

Went out spotting with Paul last night. Saw 72 deer. Yes, 72. And only 4 descernable as bucks. But one of 'em was a goddamn bruiser. Biggest buck I've ever seen. As soon as we hit him with the light he turned around, tucked tail, lowered his head and just walked quickly out of the soybeans back into his bedroom: a nicely posted 5.7 acre piece of isolated woods in the middle of ag fields. I talked to the landowner today, but they are too sick of hunters causing damage and acting unsafely that they aren't allowing any hunting anymore. The woman said they had farmed there since 1960 and only posted it 2 years ago because of all the issues. Thanks a lot douchebag poachers and "hunters."

Took a walk this afternoon onto a piece of property that the County bought from Penn State a few years ago. Ran into a nice guy "Bill" who hunts it frequently. He was hesitant at first to talk, but ended up sharing with me some information about the property and surrounding areas good for hunting. After I left him I parked along the access road and took a walk. Beautiful fields, thick honeysuckle, rubus, and black walnut, and a stand of spruce; deer trails everywhere. Jumped 3 doe out of a finger of trees between two fields and got within 20yrds of one of them. Found a couple trees to sit in, but it seems to be one of the only places I've come across here where a blind would work well.

Today's retard encounter: I got back to my car to find a note saying "Private Property - your vehicle plate # has been reported to Township authorities" signed, Centre Region Rec and Parks Dept. I was confused at first, maybe someone thought I was walking on the other side of the road? Maybe this property is off limits (even though I knew it wasn't and they guy I'd just ran into said it wasn't)? Then I started thinking, why would the rec and parks department be putting notes on peoples' cars warning about private property? So on my way home I called them and asked. The response was "Oh, yeah, you can go ahead and ignore that note - our guy was confused." Hm. I kept the guy on the phone and he gave me some line about how the property was open to hunting (I didn't mention hunting, he did) and would remain so until they start "developing" the site. Developing, huh? When might that be? Well, a few years out, maybe two. I hung up and have been getting more and more pissed ever since. Who is this guy? He works for the County region; he gets paid with tax payer dollars; he doesn't like people hunting "his" "secret" spot?; he leaves threatening notes ("reported to the authorities!") on peoples' cars who might be infringing on "his" spot, which happens to be PUBLIC land, open to hunting. I don't think this is the end of this - I'm calling back tomorrow and getting a name.

I did get into the stand this evening though and saw 6 deer. Big ruckus in the woods in front of me around 6:15. 3 doe came running by - took a shot, but a running one with no luck. Shouldn't have done that...oh well. Shortly thereafter, I could see a doe sneaking through the brush 25/30yrds to my right; too thick for a shot. Another little one was another 10yrds beyond following mom. A 6th one must have seen me turn around in my stand and went bounding back the way she came. No good shots, but a good time for the second day. I could see deer like that all season and be happy.

Labor Day Fishing

As the tenant upstairs noted, this damn blog doesn't get updated very frequently. Mostly, I think, it has to do with the nice weather; who wants to be typing while it's sunny and 80 degrees out? Least of all, those of us trying to type paper after paper to finish a dissertation. Yuck. Regardless, this weekend's outing deserves a post. So, too, do other trips this summer, but we'll see if as the weather cools I have motivation to properly log the experiences here.

As for this weekend, Ben and Christine came up and Dad surprised most of us (Ben excluded) by showing up late Friday night. Guess he couldn't bear missing another trip out to the little J. We parked in Barree and hiked in to a huge fire ring and spent the night fishing, eating, building a huge fire, and dodging rattlers. Ben and Libby both just about stepped on the thing. He was pretty big - biggest I've seen in PA - but not huge. His coloring, however, was beautiful - super black head and tail with gorgeous brown, black, and tan markings. Thankfully, he wandered around our campsite for only a while before heading up the ridge to warmer weather (I assume).

We had more luck fishing this time - a few mid-teen inch browns and a bunch of small mouth bass. The spinning rods were great, but I'll never leave the flyrod behind again...

Progress

Although there is quite a bit more work to do, it's been good to get two sides of the house done and the gardens "upgraded." Couple pics to remember the feeling...

Whipple Dam

Hot night last night so we packed up some towels and drove the forest roads over to Whipple Dam. Swam for a half hour around 8. Thunderheads reflecting the sunset just hidden over the pines gave the water a northern new england feel. Super refreshing - it really took the day off.

Green Drakes

Ben came into town last evening to help finish the current kitchen progress. We hit the stream almost as soon as he arrived and ended up in the middle of the infamous green drake hatch. Penn's was alive with millions of drakes, sulphurs, caddis, crane flies, march browns and cream midges. The sheer size of the green drakes, however, is overwhelming. The bodies are easily two inches long and their tails can be 2 or 3 times that length. The coffin flies were falling, littering the stream, and the fish were rising everywhere - places I've never seen fish rise were just boiling with fish. By dark the bugs were so thick I had my shirt buttoned to the top and my collar up just to keep them out. The caddis were out like crazy, too, covering the stream bank, rocks, and our legs and arms...kinda gross after a while. I ended up with four fish, one bruiser; Ben with two. But once the coffin flies started to fall, the stream was literally littered with bugs and our flies were lost in the smörgåsbord of bugs. So despite fish rising everywhere, and rising violently, splashing, thrashing, catching fish is almost like winning the lottery. Can't wait for tonight.

May Fishing

Out a couple times in the past couple days. Paul and I hit tunnel road again and stood in the stream watching sulphurs and march browns and millions of cream midges hatch, fly around, and float down the river. There were also thousands of american toads crowding the stream edges...they were deafening and you could see and hear them splashing along the banks. I'm sure the big boys eat those things like candy... No fish rising. Only at 9PM did things turn on. I pulled 3 out of the hole that stumped me the last time out. The big fish were back, rolling at flies along the bank, but I couldn't get one to hook themselves. Tonight was a different story. Beautiful night tonight, bugs everywhere, and virtually no one on the stream. A Friday to boot. Strange. They missed out. I took advantage of the empty stream and finally fished at the mouth of Elk Creek...crazy little spot with big boulders and random, deep holes that made wading difficult at best. First cast I had a missed strike...fourth cast another...sixth cast, however, I caught a monster. Huge brown trout whose 15inches belied it's size. This thing was fat. Had a huge head and a thick, hooked nose. And I've never seen a more beautiful brown; this thing was 4 different colors of bright orange, mottled with various sized, dark and haloed spots, and all its fins had bright white edges. I was going to keep it for breakfast (and to take a picture), but literally it was just too gorgeous to not put back. Go make babies, big guy. Caught 6 total on sulphur and march brown dries. Had 1 other on that came off and a few more missed strikes. The only other guy on the stream didn't catch a thing and I'm assuming was relatively pissed at me by the end of the night. Sometimes you get Penn's, sometimes Penn's gets you....as the fella says.

Fishing, Finally

After a long few weeks of cold weather and rain (and lots of it), the sun has finally broke through and the streams have begun their descent out of flood stage. Finishing the kitchen floor seemed to take forever this week, but Ben and I got out on Penns on the 24th and 25th of May. Flow the first day was around 780cfs and it was pushing a lot of water through at Long Road. Ben caught a couple nice fish, I caught a couple small fish, but despite seeing a ton of sulphurs in the air, no fish were rising. Last night the flow had come down to 680, or so, and was much more fishable although we had the same lack of rising fish at Long Road. Instead of staying there and getting skunked, we drove down to Tunnel Road and jumped in just above the private road bridge. There were a lot of fish rising here with march browns, sulphurs, caddis, and cream midges everywhere. Ben was the master last night catching 7 or 8 with a few 14 inchers in the bunch. I had one fish on all night - but what a fish it was. It took my march brown fly and all my line downstream and after a good 10minute fight, he finally came off. Never had a fish take that much line and never wanted to break my pole over my knee after losing a fish. It's sunny again today so perhaps I'll make it out after the Muth BBQ. Libby is in New Zealand for two more weeks, which should be enough time to get the kitchen finished, this place back in order, and the school work done that is looming over my head. Fishing intermittently will be a good break from these stresses.

Cold, wet, uneventful morning

Went out this morning again. Had two guys on one of my spots near lower greens valley road, calling like idiots. Trucks were from colorado and florida...

Got one bird talking, but he was over a rise and about 200yrds on private, posted land with hens; no luck.

Cold morning here - temperature must have dropped nearly 20 degrees since Saturday.

Big plans for a big bird on Thursday.

A Perfect April Day

April 26 - opening day of turkey in PA. Paul and I met at prospectors at 4:00am and headed to weaver. Original plan was to stalk the monster bird at the nursery, but one of Paul's co-workers "claimed" the spot first. No way he shoots that bird - we'll get 'em later this season...

The morning started off with a long walk to the back of the weaver property, a little over a mile. Unfortunately, the property is bordered on all sides by private land and some jackass had driven his truck through the woods and parked it, literally, right on our spot - the exact spot where I'd shot a huge bird a few years ago. So Paul and I sat down about 150 yards away and decided to wait and hear how the morning started before changing positions. This genius in the truck proceeds to walk right toward us in the dark - we whistle at him and he changes direction, but sits down about 60 yards away, just inside the new exclosure. These guys are asking to be shot. We tried to relax and just see how things would go - it was too late to change position without screwing up that whole side of the property.

As light came the song birds started around 5:30 and were in full swing at 5:45. 6:00 came and brought with it the first gobble - it would be the first of many. There were at least three birds, just over the hill, inside the exclosure. For the next 40 minutes they must have gobbled 60 times. One would sound off and the others would gobble right behind him, four, five, six gobbles on top of each other. We thought something might materialize and sat still, guns ready and waited, listening to the horrible calling of the jackass down the hill. Two hens came over the hill, but the jakes wouldn't make the trip - they headed away from us and the gobbling stopped.

After sitting tight for a while we decided to move - a slow walk along the fence finally proved fruitful as we heard the same rally of gobbles from the back corner of the property - maybe 500 yards in front of us. We got as close as we could and set up along the fence. The birds were inside the fence and we had a nice knob between us so we set up paul's decoy on the fence line, I set up in the brush to call, and paul sat against a tree with his gun trained. We thought the birds (if they came) would come around the contour of the knob, but instead (yeah, they came) they ran right up over the top of the knob directly at us. I never saw them, but paul said the first bird crested the hill and stopped, the second bird came over the top and did a double-take at paul - one eye, two eye, "yep, that doesn't look good," and he bolted. Paul let two shots go in hopes of knocking one down, but to not avail; we watched as the two of them flew away. He was kicking himself a bit, but there was nothing else to do except watch them run away - fine decision. The only bad part was he didn't quite get the gun shouldered before firing and his bicep was killing him the rest of the day.

It was pretty late in the morning by now so we circled the property boundary for another 3/4 mile and found a nice ridge to take a nap on. Slept for 30 minutes or so until I found a couple ticks on me and got us back up moving. The plan was to stick to the property boundary and hit a couple known hang-outs on our way back to the truck. Coming up on the back of white pine corner a gobble halted us - 100yards. We dropped to the ground and donned the camo - that was close. After a quick discussion we decided I'd be the shooter - I crawled on my stomach up to a small ridge and slowly peeked over, gun leading. After only a second I saw a bird - big, dark body; bright red and blue head: A Gobbler, and a big one. He was headed to the right so in the quick moments as he was hidden behind trees and brush I readjusted and waited. A couple of those moves later I noticed the bird wasn't alone - there was another one, equally big, and closer, back to my left. I readjusted on this one, but he was headed right as well. Couple putts and some leaf scratching managed to turn him back left. They were moving closer, but they were nervous - maybe they had been screwed with earlier that day, or last season. The bird in my sights was staring hard at me - one move to the left and he would be in a clear line of sight. He moved left. And here's where my long day of fishing the day before screwed me - I'd forgotten my turkey choke. The modified choke in my barrel spread my 4 shot too thin - the bird was gone before I could even reload a shell. The other bird wasn't so lucky. I swung right and shot...missed, but lifted the bird into the air. Another pot shot did nothing to stop his flight. Fortunately, the bird was flying directly over Paul. He rose and unloaded, knocking that bird out of the air - DEAD BIRD!! Not pretty, but successful. And to think, if I'd had my proper choke, there would be two birds. Won't make that mistake again...

20lbs, 9.5" beard, 1 1/8" spurs. Real nice bird. Had some of it grilled up this evening at Pauls house while entertaining his boys. Can't wait to get back out during the week when all the bozos are sleeping and at work.

When I got home, Ben and I headed to Penns. We'd had some serious action on the stream the previous night and couldn't wait to repeat. We stopped in at feathered hook first to figure things out - turns out we had likely witnessed trout gorging themselves on rusty spinners (dead BWOs and Hendricksons). We spent a few bucks on flies and headed out. A long walk down from tunnel road and nymphed until about 5:30. I caught one and then took a nap in the sun on the bank...long day. Ben nymphed the whole afternoon and didn't catch squat - that is the worst. And I figured I'd make it worse by hooking a rising fish he'd been trying to catch on my first catch. Luckily I didn't land it.

We were stalling, trying to catch the few rising fish we could see and wait for the witching hour when the spinners would start...maybe 7? Maybe 7:15. We made it until about 6:15 when the gathering, black clouds finally made us decide to give up and head back to the car. About halfway back it hit - strong winds and a downpour; we were soaked. Great, though, to be in the woods and on the stream with Ben during a wild storm, drenched and happy. Dinner at the Red Horse topped off the day. Not bad to start off turkey season and spring trout :)

Boy Wonder

Ellsbury. Libby's favorite player. Every Red Sox Fans' favorite Mormon-Native-American. Two home runs tonight and a killer bunt to the first baseman which led to the winning run when Pedroia doubled (for the third time tonight). Pabelbon finished it off with style blowing 100mph pitches by 3 angels in a row. I love when he looks down at the mound, takes a breath and then leans down, glaring toward home as he blows it out, hard, as if to say "WHOS NEXT?!!?" Gave the game an end-of-the-season excitement with fans standing, clapping, and flashing stupid, proud smiles into the nearest camera. Love it.

Snap!

Ben and Dad came in this weekend. Hit the stream a little bit, but the rains blew things out so we went bowling and spent the weekend grilling and watching baseball. Not bad. Dad and I went golfing at Toftrees today - beautiful morning and the major parts of the course were in good shape even though they are undergoing major construction on the grounds. Found this guy on the third green and watched him (her?) walk off across and sand trap and into the woods. Pretty darn cool.

Whippoorwill

Headed out last night to try my hand at roosting turkeys. I was hoping to either sneak up on some in one of the fields and listen to them roost or elicit a gobble using an owl call. Neither worked. I think I may have better luck hearing them gobble on the roost early in the morning rather than sighting them in the evening - there aren't that many secluded fields around here. It was nice, though, to be out at dusk in the woods. Saw another grouse (actually, I think it was the same one as T jumped yesterday afternoon) and the whippoorwills were calling everywhere. Walking up the gas line, worn from ATVs, I must have flushed 10 of them warming themselves in the soil. It was a hot, sunny day and you could feel the heat radiating off the ground long after the sun went down. Spooked a couple deer and heard some owls, too - not sure what kind; going to have to look that up.

Grouse...

...are everywhere. Libby saw five yesterday off greens valley road (half way to the gate, on the left, by the old deer carcasses). She and I saw one and heard others drumming yesterday next to Penns Creek at the end of tunnel road - about 100 yards down the path, after crossing the footbridge, on the left in the rose bushes of the floodplain. I saw three today up on greens valley (two about 100 yards from the lower greens valley road gate on the right, and another at the trail intersection just above the large, private field on the preserve). Hopefully they'll hold out for next fall :) With all this dry weather, the little ones should do well. Also saw nine deer in those fields and 2 more on the way home - odd for a hot day (78 on the bank sign today).

Skunked

Libby and I got skunked on Penn's today. Fished some new sections - one down the rail trail from the end of tunnel road and the other at the beginning of tunnel road. Very flat and fast water at the first place and very bouldery and deep at the second; odd fishing. There were grannoms everywhere and blue quills, too (large ones, size 12) but I saw no fish rising. A guy in the parking lot said he caught a bunch (he said 13 or 14) on blue quill dries under the trees - not sure if I believe that or not, but i did notice the bugs were sticking in the trees and getting blown out by what was a fairly stiff wind. Flow is 365 cfs at the gauge right now - very low, 42 degrees, and gin clear - obviously a bad recipe...

Bears and Flies

Took the dogs for a run today up on Greens Valley. Ran out some new trails toward the end of the road and ended up on top of the northern ridge in back of the new deer exclosure. There were three or four turkey vultures on the knob behind the fence and we jumped a hen turkey as we walked along the upper side of the fence. But the real surprise waited for us on our way back down toward the car: three bear, a mother and two cubs. The mother and one cub had just scaled the fence and headed into the thicket of black birch to our right, but the second cub was still inside the fence. I called the dogs off and with them by my side, we watched the cub scale the fence, seemingly without effort, and head off into the woods with mom. We waited a few minutes and proceeded down the path, the dogs on heel, me yelling to keep the bears informed of our presence.

It's also the first day the grannom caddisflies are hatching on penns. Headed out tomorrow afternoon with Libby - looking forward to it...

Pothole Poetry

From my hometown newspaper in VT, The Herald:

POTHOLE POETRY (selected readings):

Pothole Heaven
As I head home, my day’s work done,
I don’t get far, it’s pothole one.
It seems quite simple, what they should do.
And then I bounce through pothole two.
I look ahead, and there I see
Another one, it’s pothole three.
I realize there may be many more,
And sure enough, there’s pothole. four.
I wonder how these folks survive.
As I roll into pothole five.
My car, I soon will need to fix
As I bounce out of pothole six.
And as I swerve past pothole seven,
I realize, I’m in Pothole Heaven.

—Richard Bradley
Randolph Center

Poor Pothole
The life of a pothole
Must indeed be bad,
It lies in the road

Feeling lonely and sad.
And for what does it wait
You may ask with a grin
For whatever will pass it—
A tire, a rim.
But drive by we do
Without a thought or a care,
Our tire, our rim
We try not to share.
Our friendship it wants
But the hole’s a disgrace,
With water and mud
All over its face.
And no one wants it,
Goof grief, let’s get real,
But I ask you…
If you were a pothole,
How would you feel?

—Shannon M. Trigos
Randolph Center

The Herald’s Pothole Adventure
There’s nothing to do in Vermont, you’ll agree
Unless you like snow sports, or "Idol" TV
Or whining ‘bout weather, town business and such
Cuz other than that there is nothin’ much.
In the White River Valleys the citizens read
The Herald of Randolph, for praise and misdeeds
The publisher, Dickey, prints tales and cool pics
Amusing the folks who are stuck in the sticks.
In 2008 there was such a long winter
That newborns from fall grew into spring spinsters
The snow was so deep that the pets were all lost
And towns ceased all plowing because of the cost.
The girth of the potholes come March are explained
By saying they rivaled the size of Champlain
The holes in the dirt of our roads were so wide
That townspeople witnessed NY on one side.
But the depth of these holes was the biggest disaster
The truckloads of dirt couldn’t come any faster
The earth sucked it down and soon it was clear
That nature was not to be messed with, but feared!
The paper ran photos of snow, mud and ice
Dick asked that his staff find more pics with more spice!
Bob Eddy went up Braintree Hill for a shot
But ruined his rig when he hit a huge pot.
Dick called for young Tim to find a prize-winner
Then waited all day ‘til long past his dinner
With the news that his last photo-guy had gone down
Our publisher bore a most furrow-browed frown!
Jill then heard the editor, under his breath,
"I’ll get my own photos; I’ll go up to Peth.
It’s on my way home and the view is much greater!"
But once on the road, he was ‘et by a crater.
"Who’ll help me now, I’m deep in the mud
I wish I had not lost my best friend, ole Fud"
What Dick didn’t know was that his dog was in hiding
Just waiting for spring so he could go riding.
And hearing Dick’s cries, Mighty Golden Retrieve
Bound in from the forest, grabbing Dick by his sleeve
A furious struggle, mutt vs ground
I’m happy to say Dick was saved by his hound.
So next time you’re thinking of coming up North
Be ready to drive forth and back, back and forth
Our views are to die for, enjoy our cool breeze,
But you’d better be ready to drive on Swiss cheese.

—Barb Baumann