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

Opening Day of Trout '08

Trout opened this past Saturday. Drove up to Whig Hill, PA near Tionesta with Paul to fish with Primo and all Erie crowd. Lots of people there this year: Primo, Don, Scott, Daryl, Rob, Ron, Ben, Steen, Barry, Niles, Vantassle, Jay Johnson, and a couple visitors. Lots of inappropriate humor, obnoxious amounts of meat grilled to perfection, booze, and cards. Oh, and we went fishing, too. We pulled in around 30 fish between the 10 of us fishing. I ended up hauling in a nice fat rainbow to win the biggest fish pool ($50, sahweeet) - never did getting around to measure it before it was cleaned; maybe 17"? Fried and smoked most of the fish for consumption Saturday night along with four chikens on the spit, ribs, salmon, and various sausages from various animals. Started the De-tox today with a run with the dogs up on Greens Valley, but it was good to get away from reality if only for a few days.

Guilty

Mailed in my guilty plea today. The lovely town of Ithaca welcomed this tourist with a speeding ticket. 37 (supposedly) in a 20 school zone. Ouch. The State of New York doesn't tell you how much these damn things are until you plead guilty so I won't know what the damage is until I get the bill...my guess: $250. And no fish to show for it....this is sitting badly.

Steelhead Fishing

Rich Stedman, one of my committee members, invited me to go steelhead fishing with him during their spring break. I didn't get to go up then, but finally made the trip this past week. A friend of Rich's joined me in Centre Hall at 4:45am on Friday morning, April 4th and we drove the three/three and a half hours up to Ithaca, NY to pick up Rich. After a quick tour of their new house we headed out to Auburn to pick up another friend and grad student of Rich's, Kieth. Another hour or so in the car and we were looking at the Salmon River, north of Watertown, NY. Rich had fished this river extensively while in grad school (15 years ago) so we drove around quite a bit trying to get our bearings and decide on the best place to fish.
It is an incredible stream and unlike anything else I've ever seen or fished. There is a large reservoir upstream so the flow is irratic and often there are dam releases that fill the river to its banks and beyond with raging, but crystal clear waters. So was the case on Friday - the water level rose all day, getting harder and harder to fish, but stayed clear, tricking you into believing the fishing should be good :)
There is a fish hatchery a few miles down from the dam which raises rainbow and brown trout and salmon fingerlings. These fish are released from the hatchery and make their way downstream to the lake, live for a few years and then make their way back up their stream, returning to the hatchery where they were released. We visited the hatchery and the "entrance" to the hatchery from the river was chock full of steelhead anywhere from 20 to 40 inches. Huge fish.
We started the day at a bridge just downstream from the hatchery. Kieth and I fished near the bridge while Rich and Lou headed a bit downstream. Despite throwing a number of streamers, egg patterns, and nymphs, the only action I had was watching an angler downstream lose his footing and swim downstream 100yards or so before he got his footing back. Lou, on the otherhand, pulled a nice 25" fish out of a side hole downstream. Rich caught a couple suckers out of the same hole.
Long story short, we fished in the pouring rain and rising waters from about 11am until 8pm. Lou's was the only fish, but we were all exhausted from fighting the current, walking to various access points, and casting with the hopes of hauling in a lunker. All went well, save for our inability to find the "sportsman's hole." We parked at the access point and walked down the trail toward what we thought should be the water, only to find ourselves back on the road with no sign of a trail leading anywhere but back to the vehicle. So, we walked back to the vehicle and went to a different spot! There were a few guys around who caught fish, but for the most part, it was a slow day given the high flow. Many guys said, "Oh, yesterday was amazing." That's what we get for fishing only one day.
It was really good to get up there and see steelhead fishing first hand. I'd been with Paul once to Erie, but the season was all but over and although we wrestled (literally) one fish from Walnut Creek, I didn't get a chance to witness true steelhead fishing. Big rods, big reel, small stream - and big fish. Crazy combination. It was amazing to see guys roll casting massive weights on fly rods: a small flick of the arm and these weights fly upstream, splashing into the current and quickly sinking to the bottom, where the fish look for food. Others had huge spey rods stripping streamers across the current. Spinner rods throwing huge bobbers dangling egg patterns.
It was also nice to spend some time getting to know Rich better and meeting Lou and Kieth. I don't get to spend much time with people who are true academics and true sportsmen. It's a good combination - one that I've tried to make with my life and it was refreshing to see others who have successfully made the merge :)
Now that I know where this place is and have a sense of how to approach the fishing, I suspect this won't be my last steelhead trip. It's probably an hour's drive from Aunt Suzie's house and may make a great holiday excursion - the fishing is best from late October until late March. Hopefully, I'll pull one of those monsters in sooner rather than later.