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.