Ramblings of a Flatlander

Pheasant Asylum

2011-10-24T08:11:00.000-07:00

Dear Ron,

Well, I had an interesting time up at nine pipes. Here's a shorter rendition of a longer story, if you're interested:

Not knowing the area (and only having a brief conversation with Neil before leaving) I scoured each of the State parcels adjacent to the Refuge. It was a while before the dogs caught some scent and a while longer before we actually saw (very skittish) birds. The dogs pointed what must have been a trail where two hens had just run - the boys readjusted a couple times, but the birds had run a long ways already and flushed a good 100 yards out in front of us (no kidding).

A touch later, a hen and cock bird flushed well out in front of us, too, but I kept an eye on the male and got the dogs back on his trail. As the dogs closed in he flushed again, this time a bit closer. I pulled up, hesitating slightly (oops) as he was pretty far away and the cross wind was blowing hard. I decided, pulled the trigger and saw him dip ever so slightly. I was pretty sure he was winged - the hunt was on... Long story short, we tracked that rooster for about an hour - well, we searched for a track - there seemed to be no scent to find. The only thing I could surmise was that he'd buried himself in a small patch of cattails and was hunkered down biding his time. That, or dead. The dogs and I waded in to see what we could see.

The 'tails were dry and loud and we made a racket as we crashed through. The dogs needed some encouragement to keep hunting through the tangle. Soon I realized neither dog was making any noise. Hm... I made my way to them and sure enough, they were both on point, noses almost touching. I started sifting through the cover to recover my first MT pheasant (or so I thought), but soon realized the bird had snuck out and I could see (barely through the cattails) that he was out onto dry ground and trying to fly, unsuccessfully. I shot again, but apparently all my pellets spent their energy mowing cattails instead of finding that bird... With that, the dogs went crashing out after the bird (Dad never misses...ha!). I got myself free of the cattails just in time to see this bird running, dogs in tow, directly for the National Wildlife Refuge border 50 yards away. Literally bee-lining for the damn signs. The dogs were losing ground, but still close enough to prevent a shot.

...And so, there I stood, watching in dismay as my "first MT pheasant" went running into the safety of the Game Bird Embassy, barbed wire guards closing the gate behind his tail feathers...

I went and bought a beer, chatted with the guy in Ronan Sporting and Western, and spent the rest of the afternoon knocking on ranchers' doors for permission. Not many folks were home - not sure if opening day of rifle season may have had something to do with that - but I saw some great country and have a strategy for finding some more ground and, god willing, birds.

Anyway, I hope you had more success with ducks than I on the ditch-chickens - and that you enjoy Hawaii! I wish it weren't so darn expensive or I'd be there presenting some work from my dissertation. As it were, that will have to wait for another venue this coming spring.

I'll keep pestering from time to time, but if you'd like to get out, just drop me an e-mail or give me a ring. My cell phone number is 814.574.6128.

Happy hunting,

Alex

Tie, test - Streamers on the Clark Fork

2011-10-07T08:11:00.000-07:00

Got a nice streamer idea from Benny and tied up a few variations yesterday morning. Had a talk to attend at 5:00, so I hit the river around 3:45 and fished for 45min. Despite the weight on the flies, the water was big and it took burying the rod on the stream bed in front of my feet to get them deep enough to induce strikes. Caught a couple, very big white fish - well I think they were white fish. The bodies looked like white fish, but instead of the "sucker" looking mouth, they both had a wide, almost catfish mouths. A quick search online didn't produce any revelations. Anyone have any ideas? Caught one on a quick change to BWOs, but the last streamer cast of the day produced this guy:

The talk was on masculinity and the three papers focused on the perversion of the reality of cowboys to fit a masculine myth, a review of a novel challenging the male-dominated, aggressive domination of the western environment, and a scathing critique of how county music videos and songs perpetuate sexism and ill-defined gender roles. I've been to my fair share of conference presentations, but I was struck by the format and the eloquence of the presentations. Granted, the papers were pre-written and read, often word for word, from the page. Despite the blatant disregard for all the public speaking rules, it worked very well - the mastery of the written word was impressive and inspiring. I was frustrated, however, with the implied conclusion that these myths have been conspiratorially and maliciously perpetuated by some "powers that be." I tend to think, rather, that these ideas are rooted in our identify and mythos as a people, as Americans, and, not unimportantly, in our biochemistry. It's been perverted and usurped at various times for a variety of malicious and greedy purposes, but our willingness, no, our eagerness to buy into these myths is not manufactured, it is based in tradition, history, identity, in our failings and in our dreams (honorable and otherwise). Beyond that, and in addition to being just plain fascinating, the talks got me thinking about my research: how has our culture's definitions of men, of domination over nature, of independence and ruggedness, of traditional masculine roles and a nostalgia, justified or not, for how it was long ago affected our natural resource policy. And more importantly, how does it inform the acceptance and effectiveness of new natural resource policies and extension efforts. Its a perspective that reminds me of my high school days, reading "Choice of Heros," and trying to understand who I was, how the world would view me, and if I really cared. Favorite line of the night came from Carl (don't know last name) from the Missoula Public Library - "The myth of the cowboy is alive and well. Anyone visiting the statehouse in Helena will witness an endless parade of cowboy drag. Feet squeezed into shiny, pointed boots and hats on heads of folks who couldn't herd anything, let alone cattle."

Urban trout

2011-10-05T08:18:00.000-07:00

When I moved to Missoula in June, the Clark Fork (and most any other low lying depression) was full of chocolate milk. Frothy, fast, and inhospitable to most any aquatic creature, including me. I debated sneaking into the soft chocolate of lawns and parking lots a few times, but decided the marginal chance of good fishing wasn't worth the time away from work. So I hunkered. Every trip across a bridge inspired glances at seams and surveys of the scrambleability of banks. June passed. July passed. The water was still angry from the melting of record snowfall. Just my luck. Travel, work, travel, visitors. I got out. I had success. But the few hours I had were best spent, I thought, on the legendary blackfoot, the renowned rock creek, and the bitterroot. And these rivers are amazing. Very. And so August passed, too, without me fishing in town. The weather has changed from summer to fall. Yesterday the clouds rolled in, dark, and rain poured down in the morning. I'd decided the week before I was finally going to bite the bullet and fish in town and was just waiting for a day like this. Now, you see people fishing in town and they all look like asswipes. Indicators flying everywhere, never left alone long enough to even approach a reasonable drift. Flies in bushes. And never any bent rods. Guys at the flyshops speak disparagingly of "messing around in town." And so I'd avoided it, confident that if the fishing was worth it, more people would be there who knew what they were doing. But the weather was right and I'd stared at the river in town long enough.

I started under a bridge, walking by a recently abandoned motorcycle lying in the stream leaking god knows what. Second cast, fish. Hm. Ok. Not a lunker, but a solid little rainbow. Fought like hell. Looked beautiful. Maybe this will work?! I worked a seam upstream, produced a handful more little rainbows. A small hole in a side channel gave up a meatier specimen. I bombed up the bank and sped along the trail past mailboxes and sandbags and driveways. After a couple hundred yards of slack water, there was a hole that looked tasty and was, of course, occupied by some dude with a tacklebox and bobbers. Ha. He probably caught a shit ton! He wasn't very interested in talking, so I moved upstream further. Hopped some silt fence and scrambled down some rip rap. The bank, as it hit the water, got even steeper, it was about 6" deep a foot out and about 10' deep a foot and a half out. I thought this looked promising, but who knows right? I flopped and sank some flies. Nothing. I slowly worked my way along the tangled bank. Flop, sink, swing, nothin. I got myself fully tangled in some trees, almost swimming a couple times. Flop, sink, swing, BAM! Oh yeah, baby! Big flash from a pissed off fish. Reel whined. I contemplated trying to follow it downstream, but I was really fully tangled and couldn't move. Luckily the big guy gave up the fight after a while and the current allowed me to haul him back to my perch. Beautiful rainbow, thick, strong. Missed another one on the next cast - big flash. Damn... And then I proceeded to lose about 10 flies. Fuck my ass. Some in the stream, some in a tree, some, who the hell knows where they went... I literally stomped the ground and swore. Some douche decided that the 4 foot bank was a good place to walk his aggressive dogs. Ok, time to take a break. I seated my fly and walked upstream some more.

This is where I wanted to fish anyway. Everytime I ride my bike downtown I look at this part of the stream. Main channel running big on one side of the channel. The side channel dumped into the main through three consecutive runs. Lotta seams, lotta water, lotta places for fish. And I caught a pile. Nymphing was slow at first - caught a couple. Water was big on the inner seam of the first run so I switched to streamers. After only a couple casts I got hammered. Huge rainbow! Took me almost to my backing. People pointing from the bridge. HA! I was laughing out loud it was so fun. Damn thing fought like hell. And the current was on his side. But after a while I won, dragging that beast into the net. He was whooped. But I held him up to the people looking from the bridge. Nothing like a little exhibitionist fishing. The streamer produced only one other fish at that spot, but it didn't matter. The nymphs pulled a dozen more, and a pile of solid whitefish, too, to keep my interest peaked.

As dark approached I decided I wanted to hit one other very public spot so I hiked back to the car and drove upstream. I was the only person there for about 10 min. Had a huge fish on that popped off. It hit softly at the end of my swing and was probably only hooked by one scale. Saw him flash, held him through one run downstream, but lost him on a crazy barrel roll. Big fish. Oh well, back at it. Others showed up. Three guys upstream, two down stream, just as I'd tied on streamers to work the edge... I stuck with the streamers and worked slowly down as far as I could. Two cutts cooperated. One of the guys upstream stuck in behind me and fucking hammered a huge brown on a cream streamer. Damn. Nice fish. I pulled a few others out after swithing back to nymphs. At one point, I shit you not, I was focusing intently on my sighter and suddenly realized a goddamn syringe was floating next to my line. Well shit. If the fishing wasn't so good, I might have cared. I wonder what the dirty-needle durability of my G3s are? I ignored the urge to think about the source of this and what else was in the water, besides trout. The west mountain stone caught the biggest, a fiesty cutt hanging out in the cold water coming out of a trib. Dark was falling. I was content. And I figured Libby was about done with spin class. Just before dark I packed it in. What a great day! Its not the prettiest scenery and obvious influences of 100,000 people in the immediate watershed. But there was cold air, the clouds of October, and cooperative, big fish. I guess I've no excuse not to be fishing when I've only got an hour or so on my hands. Darn...

Sulphur parting

2011-06-16T13:56:00.000-07:00

Lyme had me down hard. Tried to go fishing once and ended up curled up in a ball in the front of Ben's truck sleeping. Sleeping hard. Fever. So it was that this year's spring fishing almost matched the turkey hunting. Not quite, but damn, between the blown out rivers every other day (or everyday on Penn's), getting sick, packing, and moving, there weren't much of it. Not enough anyway.

Ben left the Monday before I was to move - I respect his ability to know what he wants to deal with, what he doesn't, and to do something about it - so Paul and I headed to the little J on Tuesday evening. It was a scorcher with temps in the mid-90s so we figured the hatch wouldn't happen until o'dark thirty. Turns out it didn't really happen at all. I did catch about 7 or 8 though, on a smattering of flies. First on H&C, then swinging some sulphur emergers through the back of an under-bridge run, then on rusty spinners as dark fell. Foggy night at times, glasses clouding up, sweat beading and running. Odd to look around trying to absorb surroundings in the memory banks. The thickness of the leavs, the smell of the water, the feel of the humidity, the tug of hungry browns with sulphur pierced lips. I'm terrible at remembering those things. I think we cooked some steaks, potato skins, and asparagus at home, late, after the drive back up from Spruce Creek. Not an epic end to 8 years in PA, but appropriately subtle and relaxed.

Cosmic Lockdown

2011-06-16T13:45:00.000-07:00

The only picture I have is of Ben and Paul in their skivvies on the camp porch looking over a map. It ain't pretty nor good for anyone so, you're welcome.

Last spring in PA before moving to Missoula; time to book some days in the turkey woods. Got Paul to take 2 days off from work and a couple more from the family to join Ben and I in the Quehanna to chase birds. The birds were supposed to be thick, the weather perfect, and the pressure light. Long story short, we didn't hear a goddamn gobble - not one - for three full days. Denny's camp was awesome, the food superb, the booze plentiful and we even managed to get up super super early to bomb deep into the woods, well off the roads. The ground was tore up, the sign thick, the other hunters almost non-existent. Not one gobble. Not a distance one, not a early-morning tree gobble followed by silence; just the silence. Made you think there weren't any birds there, but we know better. There are a TON of birds there. Is was just on cosmic lockdown. Super going away present from PA. Oh, and to top if off, Ben and I got lyme disease from two never-seen ticks. 6 days of 102 fever followed by 8 more of exhaustion, then a bullseye rash met with steroids and 4 weeks of doxycycline. Fun. Fuckers. We did get into some trout on Kettle (picky, feisty stockies) and Medix (beautiful little brookies). But WTF. Cosmic Lockdown. Sonovabitch.

Old me

2011-05-16T08:30:00.000-07:00

Cleaning out my office in preparation for the move West. Reading over old papers and tests and stupid things I should have thrown out years ago. I'm struck by the thought that the old me has been lost. I remember a philosophical, curious, eager person prepared to take on the world if need be. I am not that young man anymore. It sounds melodramatic, but the world beats you down. I now find myself concentrating on the here and now - trying to enjoy moments - rather than on where I'm headed. The world is too unpredictable, too cruel, and too slow-moving to pay much heed to the dreams and whims of poor boys from Vermont. Especially if you believe that. Focusing on the moments is good - and I need to be better about remembering (documenting?) - but accomplishing something of meaning is gaining importance in my life again. I think my education has simultaneously served to heighten my understanding of how the world works and fog my view of how it can get any better. I need to clear the fog.

PS102 - Exam #1

2011-05-16T07:38:00.000-07:00

"Locke thought that most people, in anarchy, would live according to the golden rule -- and they would do so out of fear of revenge. Hobbes said we are all naturally greedy, jealous, and mistrustful. In a state of anarchy, we might all want to follow the golden rule, but we will cheat - mostly out of the fear that our neighbor will cheat first."

"If I have lots of property and get you to believe that a set of laws is good because it will protect your life, your freedom, and your property, I have gotten you to subscribe to a belief that you can never take my property or interfere with my pursuit of more. Since I have more property than you to begin with, I can use this new set of laws to oppress you and remain more powerful."

"The liberal agenda is to limit government spending on welfare (social) programs, limit government intervention in the market, and reduce taxes in a country. Liberals want other countries to stop wasting money on people who can't help themselves, collect those monies owed to them, and let the invisible hand guide the market. The people of "X" might oppose this because they do not believe the "universal" values that liberalism is based on. Perhaps they believe all people, in order to be happy, must have food, water, and shelter and that it is a government's responsibility to provide these goods, no matter the cost."

"Those in charge of social engineering in USSR thought they knew what a perfect society was. To them, this notion justified any means by which to reach this end. This is not based on the idea that each man may have a different idea of happiness, but rather on the the modern thought that if you sit and think and write long enough, you will understand certain "truths" in life - and that these truths are the same for all mankind. After seeing what atrocities could arise from such assumptions, this rationale (although still accepted by many) has been rejected by most in the educated and political world."

"Market World - is based on individual greed, creativity and productivity. It is based on the belief that the market will provide for all and allow for social reforms. It is based on a belief that the market, not the government, will protect all people and things needing protection. For this reason, Market World has no trade barriers, no government imposed environmental regulations, and no social welfare programs. It is a world where success trickles down and becomes success for the poor.

Fortress World - is based on the idea that market world will fail. It is based on the belief that the rich get rich on the backs of the poor and of the environment. All success in fortress world is concentrated in small islands surrounded by oceans of poverty; oceans filled with hostile poor, eager to undermine the success that mocks them.

Transformed World - is based on an evolution of values: instead of valuing profit, people will be more important. Employment before profit. Fairness will be more important than success. In this World, market pressures shift from greed to more humanitarian desires. In an attempt to avoid Fortress World, people in Transformed World make inclusion of all in the success of society a top priority"

Spring in PA

2011-05-10T06:33:00.000-07:00

After many too many days of cold weather, rain, and late snow squalls, spring has finally sprung in Happy Valley. As the buds are bursting and new leaves stretching skyward I've been trying to spend as much time as possible in the turkey woods and in trout waters before the move West. The trout have been cooperative, the turkeys not so much, although there have been two close calls. After a silent opening morning, I spent the first Monday on the Weaver property. Walking the entire border of the property yielded nothing, but as I was leaving I found myself peeking into the front field where a Tom and two Jakes were strutting their stuff and chasing each other around. After a belly-crawl to the corner of the field edge, the yellow gate to my left, I posted my gun on the left side of a white oak and gave some soft purrs and clucks. The Tom came running from right to left. "Perfect!" Or so I thought. Instead of his head poking out from behind that oak, all I saw was the tip of his tail, down, as he turned and headed back into the field. I guess I should have set up on the other side of that tree... Sonova... Being on the edge of the posters, and knowing there was at least one other hunter wandering the property, I hesitated. As usual, just a moment of doubt erases opportunity. In hindsight, I should have swung steadily around that tree and pulled the trigger, but within seconds that bird had retreated back down into the center of the field - my decision making time blew my chance. I regrouped and called again, but only the smallest Jake would come in. He stood at 15 yards in my sights for a few minutes, but I passed; his beard was barely protruding from his chest.

The second chance came with Paul and Ben a few days later. After toying with a hen on "gobbler's knob," we moved in on a Tom that finally decided to be vocal. We snuck within 50 yards and set up just as he came into view through the understory. Ben was to my left, Paul behind us calling. He came in within 20 yards but was always behind thick brush - very thick stand with a short canopy and lots of deadfall. As soon as he was in sight, two hens showed up as well. I think we all converged at the same moment, because those hens cut his path off (to my gun)and steered him away, silencing his gobble, and ruining our opportunity. Attempts to circle them and re-engage were futile.

Luckily, the fishing has been more fruitful. Ben and I headed down to the Little J the past two nights. The sulphurs were around, but no spinner fall to speak of. Regardless, we've caught about 40 fish in a total of 5-6 hours.

Mother's day brought a relatively uncrowded stream - suckers! - and we were able to cover a lot of water that hadn't seen guys in a while. The side channels proved most productive with some fat browns sipping our dries and emergers in little more than 5" of water. After I broke my rod (yep, shit), Ben and I shared his rod, alternating fish. Well, either one lunker or three small ones brought on a change in hands. The rod break was a blessing in disguise as we stood side-by-side all evening, guiding each other, talking flies and strategy and celebrating each perfect drift, each sip or strike, and each netted brute.

Last night was a little less productive - we had to work for each fish, but we managed to pull them from tricky locations across big runs, tucked in eddies, under branches, and to outlast those picky fish waiting several minutes before rises, waiting for the perfect bug. Again, the spinner fall was absent, but the sulphurs are definitely on. Hope this rain holds out for our trip to the Quehanna...

Toftrees Pair

2009-10-30T08:44:00.000-07:00

With the lingering questions about Porter's prognosis, yesterday was just about shot, mentally. His bleeding had restarted and his energy the night before had bottomed out. While his energy was higher yesterday morning, the bleeding would quickly ensure he was back in dire straights. A trip to the vet resulted in a change of antibiotics (to directly target bacteria that worsens ulcers) and an increase in the stomach "coater" and antacids. Basically, if his body can't stop the bleeding, he's in serious trouble. Experimental surgery may be available, but is likely prohibitively expensive and far from a guarantee.

As Porter was supposed to fast all day (to limit stomach acids), I decided to let him rest for a while and head out to Toftrees with T for another walk. Paul and I agreed they should have stocked recently, so it might be worth a second shot. The packed access parking lot and shots that rang out as I geared up told me we were right. I was there less than five minutes when the first rooster flew directly over my head, bumped by a group of hunters just over a rise. I shouldered the gun and watched down the barrel as the bird flew to me, overhead, and away, swooping up into a thick tangle of rose, honeysuckle, and green briar. I wasn't going to shoot a bird in that situation after having only been there for such a short period of time. Plus, I wanted to get some good bird contacts with T, even resolving to not shoot birds that weren't pointed.

There were a lot of guys, a lot of birds, and a lot of shooting. Just walking in got the adrenaline pumping a bit. I probably let it get to me a bit and instead of walking around the action to the middle or back of the property, I jumped into the first good cover I saw. Not 10 yards in, T spun around and pointed, hard, to my right. I walked in a bit and he started to show signs of just pointing scent: is eyes started to wander, search, and his tail started to move. I encouraged him to hunt again and he got on a scent, worked to my left and through a thick tangle. Directly on the far side of the thickness I heard the bird go up - never saw it. It was the first sign that the birds were going to be running a lot today making the points hard. After a short walk, further into the cover, I decided to quit this nonsense (hunting under the barrage of gunfire) and head deeper into the property. It took a while to find a fence row without hunters in it, but finally got into a place by myself. On my way, I saw a few birds bumped by other parties - in fact, I didn't see a bird flushed and shot despite the repeated shots of guys emptying their guns.

Had almost a repeat experience of the first bird with T tracking a running bird only to have it flush on the far side of a thick, tall fence row. I really wasn't worried about it, but felt bad for T - working so hard only to have nothing happen... Further down the same fence row, T got birdy, false-pointing a few times, and I happened to see a hen flush about 40 yards out, T completely unaware. I raised the gun, but decided, again, not to shoot. It flared at the end of the fence row and I decided to take T down there and see if we could find it. I don't know if it lit in a tree or what, but we couldn't get on any scent or find it. A short walk down the road, further away from the masses, we ducked down a sprinkler line and started hunting again. Thirty yards in, T locked on a solid point to my left. I worked toward him and a hen flushed about 15 yards in front of him. I had hoped to get shots at two roosters, but the point was so perfect, the flush so good, I raised the gun and fired the left barrel. The bird folded. T had a hard time finding it on the ground because it fell directly on an active sprinkler line. I finally ran in and got the bird, dodging the water. We got reset and started hunting again. While T worked to me left, I happened to see a rooster fly in and duck into the cover off to our right, behind us. I called T (probably off another bird) and we jumped in after this bird. T was on scent right away and started tracking this bird who was obviously running. We jumped two fencerows and I saw the damn bird running about 50 yards away. T tracked it and we jumped another fence row and started working the opposite direction. We probably tracked that bird 400 yards or so and at the end of a fence row, T finally got too close and bumped the bird up. No point, but he'd worked so hard to track that bird, stayed close the whole time, and bumped it up well within range that I raised, swung right to left and dropped the rooster. T was on him in a flash and after a few mouthfuls of feathers, picked the bird up and brought it back to me (well, within 5 feet). I unloaded the gun and started to wish Paul or Ben were with me so we could keep hunting.

T locked on another solid point before we headed back to the car and we both watched as another rooster ran out of the cover, between T and I and away into the far cover. T was about as confused as a dog can be, waiting for me to shoot and having it never happen. I hate that. As soon as the bird was out of sight he dashed into the cover and bumped the bird up, cackling as it went. I called him off and we headed back to the car. Another hen flushed about halfway back; a number of guys walking around with empty vests.

The hunting there has gone downhill significantly. There are only a few days where you can find birds before the army of half-assed hunters clears the place out. It fails to resemble anything like hunting any longer. It's sort of good to get the dogs out there, but the scent and the bird behavior is so far from natural that it may be somewhat counter productive. The cover, too, is so rough on the dogs and prevents good shots, that it's hardly worth hunting a majority of the property. I may head out there one more time, but I'll be hard pressed to invest much more time. Oh, and the ticks are thick. Pulled one out of my leg this morning...gross.

Surgery

2009-10-23T19:48:00.000-07:00

I'm happy to be able to sit and type some good news. While cautious, we're optimistic.

Porter went in mid-morning for surgery - didn't know what we'd find or if we could do anything about it, but it was our only chance at saving him. Was fairly convinced it wasn't going to be good, so I said my good-byes and held him as they administered the first round of sedatives. Not the easiest moment of the day.

I figured if I was going to get a call that my dog was dead, I'd better be in the woods. I came home and packed up my Vizsla and the double and headed to some good cover. A little ways into the trek, we bumped a big, red-phase grouse. The cover was thick, the leaves changed, but all still hanging to the trees and all I saw was the tail go up. The gun swung and went off where I thought the bird should be. Mr. T. ran in and we recovered the bird. A grouse, for Porter. I thought, given the poetry of the situation, that Porter was done for. About ten minutes later, the phone rang from the vet. I knelt with the gun, T at my side, and got some much needed good news.

What they found: two stomach ulcers, one healing, one actively bleeding. And big. This bigger, more problematic one was also in a hard to get to spot: the "back" of the stomach. While palpable, the ulcer could only be accessed by going into the stomach. But no cancer, no obstruction, no "whoknowswhat" that couldn't be addressed. Step one.

What they did: the smaller ulcer was left alone as it was mostly healed and looked good. To address the larger one, they cut into his stomach, cleaned out food, grass, and some clotted blood. Through the stomach, they were unable to "cut out" the ulcer, but instead, sutured it shut and covered with hemostatic (sp?) gauze. They sewed him up and woke him up.

How he reacted: His body temp was low following surgery so we spent a lot of time with a heating pad and blankets getting his temp up to normal. After his temp was up and he started to really wake up, he was groaning from the pain so pain meds were administered. This pretty much knocked him out and he slept, in and out, for 3 hours or so. He finally stood up, woke up (in that order), and pranced toward the door when asked "do you want to go outside?" Couldn't believe it. Got him some more pain meds and antibiotics before bringing him home. He walked out of the vets on his own and into the house although I lifted him in and out of the car.

Where we're headed: if all goes well, he'll sleep through the night with some pee breaks and perhaps a sip or two of water. If possible, I'll get some dissolved antacids into him. Tomorrow we head back to the vet for a check-up and likely IV. If we're on track, he should be on some bland, solid food tomorrow evening (boiled rice and venison). Fingers crossed. We're probably not out of the serious woods until 48hrs or so have passed and he is back on the solid food, drinking water, and having normal bowls, etc. We'll be staying close over the next couple days.

I'm 100% serious when I say this mojo stuff works. We were on a steady downhill beforehand. And regardless, it means a lot, for some odd reason, to know thoughts and positive energy are flowing. Thanks again. Hopefully, we'll continue down the road of recovery.

Porter

2009-10-22T17:03:00.001-07:00

Fuck. Just got back from dropping Porter off at the Emergency Vet Clinic in State College. What we thought was a bleeding ulcer didn't better after a couple days and Porter lost all appetite for food and water. His gums, eyes, and inside of ears were all very pale; almost white. Took him to the vet this morning. IV and antibiotics all day. Blood tests showed normal liver and kidney function, very low red blood cell count, very high white blood cell count, and no sign of tick-borne disease. X-rays showed that he was retaining a lot of food in his stomach despite not having eaten in a while. A barium series showed some sort of object in his upper bowel/lower stomach. Blood tests showed pancreatitis, which means a lack of enzymes to break down food. While he has no energy, he's still happy to see me and Libby and loving as ever.

He'll spend the night tonight, get a blood transfusion followed by an ultrasound. Hopefully, the latter will give some indication as to what this mass is - the doctors are all puzzled currently. Barring metastasized cancer or a liver lesion, I think we'll be going into surgery in the morning. Regardless, the doctors are very guarded with their prognoses. He has lost a lot of blood and may not do well with all the required procedures.

I'm sick to my stomach. Hope there is some answer to why this is happening. Really hope I don't have to bury my dog in the next week. Enough graves already.

Last Day; Browns

2009-10-19T07:24:00.000-07:00

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Last day of fishing. Drove an hour and a half to Silverthorne and fished the Blue River with Chris. We were just upstream from Green Mountain Reservoir and in the middle of the White River National Forest. Interesting connections.

The blue was crystal clear - we could easily see directly to the bottom of 10-15 foot pools. The fish could see well, too, spooking before casts were even made. I had fallen in first thing in the morning - a full on, shoulder deep dunk - so I didn't complain much when Chris suggested we bail and hit Clear Creek where the browns should be running. We packed up, hit Wendy's again (ugh), and drove 45 min to Clear Creek. Very odd place. Upstream from a small lake, loaded with browns, the stream runs right next to houses, roads, and a ski-resort further upstream. As Chris had warned, the scenery left a lot to be desired. But hell, we caught fish. A lot of them. Egg patterns of any color, little golden stoneflies, The Werm, and some PTs of various design all killed. It was probably a little unethical, fishing spawning browns, but it was hard to feel bad for such a disturbed stream. It was good practice to sight-fish individuals, watch how the fish examined flies and rejected or took. I was most surprised at how many fish tried to eat flies and simply failed - all those little bumps and tugs that result in no fish make a lot more sense now.

It was good to fish with Chris, too. He takes his fishing very seriously and pays attention to every detail. He's getting ready to compete in nationals here in State College. He'll be staying with us Wed and Thursday nights this week while practicing. It should be good to see him and all the other professionals invade our home waters and show us how it's done. Or not?

Spent the night at our hotel bar with martinis, steak, good wine, and bourbon. Travel was a bit rough, but we made it. Porter is a little underweight so I'll take some time to nurse him back to his full strength. Looking forward to getting him back in shape and getting both of them in the woods.

Too many thoughts about this trip ending to do them justice now. Looking forward to processing some thoughts instead of just logging activities. Archery should be good for some quality thinking time.

Yampa, Steamboat Springs

2009-10-17T06:47:00.001-07:00

Headed into town this morning and ate at a little Diner. We've been striking out on good food and this place was no exception. Hit the fly shop afterwards for some RS2s and jujus then drove to the Mt. Werner parking area and jumped in the stream. In town here, the stream looks small, but has some very deep holes and islands creating side channels every so often. We decided to walk downstream from the car and were both immediately untangling stuff, losing flies, and tying on new leaders. Sometimes you're just not operating at 100%.

Around the first bend, though, both Ben and I hooked into some nice rainbows - both on egg patterns. It slowed down a bit for a while and I decided to tie on a streamer and rip it through a long, slow, deep hole that bent around for a hundred yards or so. After a few minutes of stripping that egg-sucking leech through the water, BAM, a fish. A nice fish. Went on a few runs that peeled line from my reel. Ben came up to help net and that fish took off everytime Ben got close. Really nice to finally catch a nice fish on a streamer and really nice to catch a rainbow that big so early in the day. But that was it for the streamer activity. I stayed with it for about an hour, but Ben kept pulling in fish on his Czech nymph rig. I switched and immediately had two fish on, lost them. After regaining composure, I started paying attention a little more closely and pulled a few out of the same hole. The egg pattern kept working all day, so we barely changed it. I did find that a heavier front fly made keeping an eye on the leader a lot easier and also kept the leader tighter, making takes easier to feel/see. We basically walked downstream catching fish left and right. Sometime Ben was into them, sometimes I was. I don't think we had a double on the day, but damn close to it many times.

At the bottom of a slow run, I spooked a huge rainbow. It looked like he darted downstream right behind a rock, so I stood there and took a few casts into the seams behind. After a couple casts the leader took off and I, finally, landed a nice brown trout. We came out here looking for these bruiser fish and besides the two big ones I had on and lost, we've been at a loss to find many browns at all. It was nice to see the bright yellow belly, red spots, huge, predatory mouth. Another couple casts and I nicked into a big rainbow - maybe the same one? He took off like a rocket downstream, through a spillway and was gone as fast as he was on my line. Damn.

Ben and I split up and walked the side channels around an island that formed just below that hole. Ben walked quickly so while I was halfway down, he was coming back upstream on my side. We fished here for a while - I caught another brown, a few rainbows. We moved downstream and I took over a hole Ben had just left. I said, "You didn't catch anything out of here?" He said, "No, I know, it looks fishy..." I must have had a little more weight on than he, because within a few casts I had a rainbow on. He wasn't happy. He was about to get less happy. Two more casts and after a very subtle take, I raised my pole, felt a fish, and saw a huge, huge rainbow take off downstream. My initial reaction caused Ben to stop fishing and immediately walk upstream. Real big fish. Ben was downstream, net ready, and everytime that fish skirted him, he'd lean back, "Woah, man, he's huge!" He fought hard, but didn't cover much ground - we netted him just at the tail of the riffle I'd caught him in. Beautiful rainbow. I marked his length on my pole and took a few pictures before releasing him. Even as he swam away his size was impressive.

I was a bit shaken after that and took my time before starting to fish again. I divyed up the rest of my egg patterns - they were obviously killing. We worked a little further downstream before turning back toward the car. Ben hooked into a very, very nice rainbow on another side channel. Huge fish, but looked sickly as hell - gross web-like markings all over the fish. Hardly wanted to touch the damn thing. After a few more fish we decided to jump out and just b-line for the car. It had been a good day, the first where I didn't need a coat or a winter hat. 60 degrees and sunny. It would have been nice to end the day with some dry fly action, but a damn good day nonetheless.

Yampa tailwater

2009-10-16T07:02:00.000-07:00

With reports of snow from back home - a lot of it - we had some of our best weather of the trip yesterday, although it started out threatening to rain. After hitting Steamboat Fly Fishers and getting semi-turned around we hit the Yampa tailwater, right below the dam. Immediately saw big, beautiful rainbows in the river and went to work. One small one on a 20bwo. Then riggged up a weighted nymph system to float flies to some lunkers stationed at the bottom of a hole - one finally took a pt soft hackle, 18. Nice fish. Then I really started to concentrate on the larger fish sipping the surface on the far bank. After a while, I finally found the best way to drift to them and pulled 4 out on a size 18, gray bwo pattern. Thick fish with experienced jaws and bright red colors. Found it odd some would fight like hell, others seemed to know the drill and came to the net with hardly an objection. I like the fighters. Ben was frustrated at the beginning of the day - me at the end. He was pulling fish out at the end of the day left and right with nymphs. I don't think I caught one fish using anything but dries and that soft hackle. I did hook a real nice one on size 10 egg sucking leech I was ripping through the spoil at the foot of the dam. Still didn't fight too hard, though.
Strange water. Small with constant flow, crystal clear, loaded with fish, vegetation in spots, and fisherman around every corner. Not the opening day type of crowds you see in PA, but probably 10 guys on a 200 yrd section of stream. Couldn't walk downstream past a huge rock outcrop so we were all fishing the same water. Fish were everywhere, but very selective. Scenery was amazing - tucked in this steep canyon with golden grass, yellow poplars, and dark green spruce and fir. All it was missing was some elk.
Spent the night in the Tug Boat playing arcade games and pool. Met some guy who used to live in Bethel, VT of all places. Rounds were bought and consumed. Woke this morning to a picture from Paul of a tree down in their back yard. Their trees are big, yard small. I hope everyone is ok. Glad I'm missing the ridiculousness of mid-October snow storms in PA.

Snake River

2009-10-13T21:04:00.001-07:00

October, 13, 2009. Spent last night on Noah's "L" couch playing footsies with Ben all night. Woke up early and hit a coffee shop so Ben could finish some work before we hit the stream. Light rain met us through warmer weather. The guide called and said we should get there as soon as possible due to the morning warmth. Seemed like a good sign... As we loaded the boat and got ready to push off the sun was cracking through the clouds and we couldn't help but anticipate a good day on the river. The fat, double-humpy, streamer-size dry flies the guide "Boots" was tying on just got us down right giddy. As has been the case, our expectations were hardly met.

Ben and I had two fish on right away, I lost mine immediately and Ben lost his, a very nice cutthroat, after a long fight. I had another one on shortly after and, after a little fight, lost him, too. Damn. A few whitefish were caught. A couple small cutthroat, too. But most of the day was spent floating ridiculous dry flies down beautiful runs of water to no avail. The Tetons were shrouded in clouds, showers scattered the valley, and the water was gorgeous; steep runs dropping off into emerald green pools.

Finally, at the end of the day, we started to catch some fish. Ben landed a nice 18" cutthroat, I caught one slightly smaller on a size 18 parachute bwo. Interesting fish - save for the first fish ben hooked into, the fish we caught had very little color to most of their body. The exception were the fins, which had turned a bright red/orange for the fall, and the orange slits on the underside of the gills.

Kind of a disappointing day given our expectations at the start. Would have been nice to have a killer day on Ben's birthday and on such a famous river.

We left and drove down Rt191 to Rock Springs for the evening. "Swine flue" kept us from staying with David. Tomorrow we'll finish the drive to Steamboat and set up shop for the final days of the trip.

Yellowstone, Teton

2009-10-13T07:28:00.000-07:00

Got up relatively early and hit the road. 191 south out of Bozeman through the Gallatin Gateway and canyon. Ridiculously gorgeous river meandering at the base of steep, tallused slopes. Doug fir and spruce trees covering everything but the steepest parts. The canyon opened up into a wide, brushy valley with no nothin'. Drove on to West Yellowstone. This time around it didn't seem as terribly commercial, but then again we didn't stop save for gas. Paid our $25 and headed into the park. Followed the Madison River behind slow cars, passengers searching for wildlife. Fist a coyote. Then a herd of elk, then bison. Wild to think how abundant these creatures used to be before we extirpated them and replaced them with cows. Interesting decision. Stopped at the Grand Prismatic Spring and Old Faithful (missed the eruption by 30min or so). Headed on south out of the park. The road wound its way up and over the continental divide while the snow fell. Ice and snow covered roads made for slow going. Soon enough, though, we exited the park, the sky cleared and off in the distance, the Tetons loomed. Sneaking glimpses through the trees we made our way down through muddy roads, under construction, toward the mountains. Ben must have taken 1000 photos - the northern view simply captures your imagination. Knowing that Noah has scaled most of those jagged peaks is pretty impressive.

With the Tetons in the rearview mirror we headed into Jackson and on through to Wilson, WY and Noah's house. Ben did some work, we scheduled the float for the following day, and organized the house. Dinner at Q - ribs and chicken fried chicken. Shake-a-day, couple rounds, and IWTUIUWBMAD. Cops showed up to harrass the people smoking reefer on the deck. No one got in trouble. Headed out, gingerly, up the pass to crash on the couch. For Ben's birthday we float the Snake.

Lost day

2009-10-12T08:30:00.000-07:00

Sat in Bacchus, an Irish pub in Bozeman, for a lot of hours yesterday. Boddingtons, Guiness, and The Mark. French onion soup, fish and chips, reuban, Red Sox knocked out, Pats lose, hung out with Pat, Vincent, Larkin, Jesse, met a guy from Fairbanks who owned land in Sullivan County, picked on some poor MSU student who looked 17, spent too much money, stayed too long, fell asleep around 10 back at holiday inn. Going to drive to Jackson, WY via Yellowstone today. Snake tomorrow, then Steamboat Springs for the remainder. Lots of thoughts swirling about where my head will be at upon return. Hope I can focus on writing and hunting until year's end.

The Missouri Lift

2009-10-11T09:33:00.000-07:00

Saturday, October 10, 2009.
Packed up the cabin early in the morning and, after a final look around to seal memories, headed north to Wolf Creek and the Missouri River. During my freshman or sophomore year at Juniata I'd ordered a tourism booklet from Montana and, eyes closed, dropped my finger on the map. Wolf Creek. Whether or not the fishing was good, this would be a good day to remember.

Got off at the Wolf Creek exit on I-15 and headed to the Wolf Creek bridge over the Missouri. Just below Holter Dam, the river is wide, deep, and swirling. The temperature on the dash read 14 and the steam rolling off the river swirled in the wind. Faintly, but surely, we saw risers on the water. Randomly placed and inconsistent, but risers nonetheless. We stopped the car when we spooked two Golden Eagles off the river bank not 10 yards from the car. Ben snapped a few photos and we watched them perch in a tree on the far side of the river. An angry, defensive Magpie screeched complaints across the river to them. We drove to the dam and were convinced by the bitterly cold wind and the deep waters to drive back downstream and find a place to jump in.

Past the Wolf Creek bridge the valley opened up and an epic view, littered with mule deer filled the windshield. Bald eagles, golden eagles and other, unidentified hawks soared overhead. Ben's colleague Franklin Hall recommended the tips and tails of the few islands in the river. Sure enough, we stopped at a pull off and watched a massive pod of fish sip bwos and midges behind the closest island. A peregrin falcon cruised over the island, hunting. We suited up in the cold, cold weather and got in the water. Reminder: taking off your pants and socks in 14 degree weather should be avoided when possible.

The fish proved to be elusive. A mink was crawling along the bank, through the tangle of a beaver hut. Paul took pictures at about 3 feet as the critter responded to my kiss-calls. Woodcock infested the island, flitting 100 yrds away when spooked. Coots cruised the river and dove for fish.

Ben set up shop fishing downstream to the risers while Paul and I crossed the island and snuck downstream to attempt upstream casts. The fish quickly caught on and stopped rising. I stood watching, waiting for the fish to turn back on when I felt a familiar tug on my rod - fish on! And off, after a quick jump. Huh. Nice fish, bit while my flies were just hanging in the current. Huh. I think I can do that. I cast a few times across the current and slightly downstream letting the flies drift, catch, submerge, and hang before recasting. Nothing. Hm. Maybe a different fly. Tied on a Kaufman's stimulator size 10 and a size 20 black beauty dropper. A few casts later, flies submerged, the water erupted. As my pole rose to set the hook I saw a fish the size of my leg roll in the current, at least 20 inches of fish was visible and I never saw the head...or the tail. Monster, monster fish. That roll did something right for the fish because as soon as he was on he came off. I was dumbfounded. A few more dazed casts later I realized the damn fish had broke my Kaufman's stimulator hook in half, right at the start of the bend it snapped. WTF. The gods are toying with me now.

We fished all day. Warming at the car twice. Once to drive back to the dam and try our luck in the wind. No luck. Frozen waders. The wind would freeze our waders around our legs like armor. Crazy. Sharp-tailed grouse and mule deer dotted the drive along the river. Back downstream past the bridge to Craig we jumped in and watched some risers along a rip-rap bank. Then we watched a guy and his dog in a canoe run over all those fish... F. At the car I said, "Why the hell have we been ignoring The Werm??" Tied it on with that Black Beauty behind. Second cast into the first riffle my line took off. Big fish. Reel screamed. I yelled "fish on" to Ben and Paul. Ben came down with a net to help, but as he got to the bank my line, still taught, stopped moving. I started swearing, cursing - thought the damn fish had snagged me on the bottom or in the carpet of weeds on the riverbed and swam off. Ben cut in quickly and told me he'd read about "The Missouri Lift." Apparently, these fish bury themselves in the weed beds and you have to lift them out before you can net them. In disbelief I reeled myself down to the fish and sure enough, lifted him right out of the weeds. Ben netted on the second try and his net was covered with vegetation, weeds spilling over dragging in the water. In the middle of them was a nice 20 inch, 3lb rainbow. Best fish of the trip so far (in the net). Yes. Mission accomplished. Caught a nice, fat trout near Wolf Creek, MT.

Fished the rest of the day and snapped photos of the surrounds. Geese, ducks, falcons, hawks, eagles, and mule deer surrounded us. Fish rose sporadically, enough to convince us to tie on size 20 and 22 dries, but not enough to allow themselves to get caught. The wind blew and the temperature dropped. Waders froze. Fingers and faces tingled, turning red, golden sunlight reflected on lenses. Breath froze and swung south in the wind. At sunset we headed back to the car and had a toast to our last day with Paul.

Saw some very nice mule deer buck on the way out of the valley. A coyote sat, patiently waiting for dusk.

Joined Franklin at his house and headed to Windbags for a huge prime rib, whiskey (about a 5oz pour), and strong IPAs. Toyed with Helena hearts at Big Dorothy's. Headed to Alto's, aka, "the tow." Nothin' doin. Walked home and chased mule deer down the streets of Helena. Woke early. Paul's borrowed travel rod wouldn't come apart. After calls to Orvis and repeated techniques the "behind the knee pull," recommended by the customer service agent, snapped the pole. Shit. Glad he was done fishing. Hopefully Orvis will honor their no-questions-asked lifetime warrenty...

Drove back to Belgrade, coffee at a Rocky Mountain Roasting Co., dropped Paul at airport and spend time getting him on a different flight from Denver to Dulles - United canceled on him... Snow fell, blowing through the streets.

Probably taking the day to rest, do work, and take a breath before jumping into our second full week. Hopefully the weather and the fishing will get better.

The Missouri, Wolf Creek, and that lunker will continue calling.

East Gallatin Update

2009-10-11T09:09:00.000-07:00

Thursday, October 9, 2009. After a night of heavy drinking upon return from the Big Hole, we got out on the famous East Gallatin around 12:00. A few pheasant roosters greeted our arrival and the scenery was unmatched; beautiful, meandering stream, grassy fields that seem to go on forever, and, in the distance, snowy mountains in all directions. We parked at Swamp Road bridge and after chatting with an old, wind worn guy in a rhino we headed down stream to where the guy at Fins and Feathers told us was the better nymphing water. Two holes down, we spread out and started to catch fish.

I stood next to this deep, green water and tried to figure out where the fish were, what they might want to eat, and how to get it to them. I was throwing The Worm up front and changed my back fly a couple times - finally settled on a wet hackle PT, 18. The trick, however, was to get the right weight and depth. My goal was to tie on enough splitshot to get stuck on the bottom and then take one off. One split shot, nothing. Two, nothing. Three, FISH. I pulled three fish out of that hole, had a lot of bumps, and, in what turned into a disturbing trend for the day, had two others on (the biggest fish) but shake off.

Following Ben and Paul I moved downstream. Ben was trying to cast size 20 bwo dries to rising fish on the far bank so I decided to hit the inside seam of the run. Casts upstream, slightly across, flies in line resulted in 5 more fish in the net and 4 or 5 more on and off again, including the biggest one from that hole, too.

Headed downstream further and tossed my weighted rig into a wide, fast run near a pod of 20 rising fish. After a few casts the thingamabobber jerked under and I felt a nice, nice fish on the end of my line. A couple seconds later he shook off... I decided I needed to get a little deeper so I tied on a weighted streamer with The Werm behind it. First cast, BAM - again, nice fish. Again, shook off. GODDAMN!!!! This one jumped just to make sure I knew it was a big rainbow before coming loose. Anger. Fished a few bends, some very deep holes down stream. Ben and Paul kept hearing cock birds cackling in the fields - I always seemed to be next to a loud riffle, but did catch the tail end of one call. The hunting here would be disgusting. I would love to see Porter working hard through those countless acres of bird-filled grass...

Paul was pulling a couple nice fish out of the most downstream riffle we fished, Ben and I lined up behind him. As I worked downstream I realized I was walking on the drop-off so I backed up, moved downstream a bit and cast back to it. First cast, fish. Big fish. Turned out to be a White Fish, but fought hard and more than filled the net. Another trout, slightly upstream had the count up to 9. Walked upstream with Paul and watched him pull a couple out of a seam to even the count. Game on.

Tied on The Werm behind a large, 12, BH prince nymph. Caught two out of a tiny riffle that dropped off sideways into a run. Two, steely rainbows. The fish out of the Gallatin were unlike any rainbows I've ever caught. Smaller heads, thick in the middle, and with a cold, steel look. Apparently they have steel mouths, too, given how many Paul and I lost through the day. Ben and Paul walked up the bank behind me a jumped two cock birds who cackled and rose, one flying over my head, one flying away from the river. Gorgeous.

Moved back upstream to where I'd caught 5 before and pulled 4 more out for 15 on the day. Probably lost close to that many as well. Frustrating to lose so many fish and so many nice fish. But the day was success and beautiful. Cold, about 27 on the day, a slight breeze and sun that finally gave way to clouds and a snowstorm. As we drove back to the cabin we watched wild clouds fill the valley, swirling, dropping snow in random, isolated places.

For the record

2009-10-09T23:04:00.000-07:00

Denver, sandwiches, brewery - shepard's pid, beef roast
Casper, bar ribs, wings, turkey club
Bozeman Saturday, Gallatin, quesadilla, buffs, burger
Sunday, yack, Gallatin, beef stew
Monday, Madison, bison, strips
Tuesday, Yellowstone, beef stew hot tub
Wednesday, Beaverhead, Big Hole, Burger King, Blasted
Thursday, East Gallatin, sausage and beef rice
Friday, Gallatin, rainbow, brown, whitefish, zuchs and squash
Saturday, Missouri...

Winter salvation

2009-10-09T19:33:00.001-07:00

A winter storm canceled our plans to travel to the Firehole today. Awoke to 6 inches of snow and counting. A steady 15-20mph wind was blowing sideways and temps were struggling to get into the 20s. We spent the morning tying flies, doing work, and cleaning up around the house. Around 1:00 Paul and I decided to brave the cold and hit the Gallatin. Ben had some work to finish up before joining us. Paul decided to cross in the most unfortunate spot and almost took a chilly dip. We headed up a side channel and started fishing. It was slow to start, but soon picked up. While my new black bugger was stuck on a snag, Paul got into a real nice brown. I netted and, as planned, he got put on the stringer for tonight's dinner. Paul ended up with a few more fish on as well, but lost them. Finally he hooked into a nice whitefish and we added it to the stringer. I pulled one out of the same hole, too and the count for dinner was up to three. Ben had joined us by now and hooked into a beautiful rainbow, just a touch longer than Paul's brown. I decided to head back downstream to a deep hole that had proved frustrating earlier. The flow into this pool was fast, the drop off deep and although it looked fishy, I'd only caught a couple small fish out of it over the two past days we'd fished there. I knew there were bigger fish on the bottom it was just a matter of getting the drift and weight right. I played with my set up for a while - added weight, raised the indicator - and cast to get a drift into the small, swirling seam between the fast water and the eddy. When I finally got everything right, a beautiful rainbow took my fly. It was one of the most satisfying fish I've ever caught. Another rainbow and three big whitefish followed. It felt amazing to have turned this crappy day into a success. The snow blew, the cold seeped into our feet, but we were out there and caught a bunch of beautiful fish - some of the biggest fish yet besides the lunkers that came out of the yellowstone.

Tonight is supposed to get down to -5F. It's our last night in this house. We're cooking up fish, doing wash, and packing. Tomorrow we head north to the Missouri river in Craig, MT. The forecast is for 28-ish, cloudy, and calm. With the increased temps from the tailwater of the Missouri we should get into some fish. While I'm not happy about leaving this house, I'm looking forward to the day.

Oct. 7, 2009 - Beaverhead and Bighole

2009-10-07T20:34:00.000-07:00

On Peter Vandegrift's recommendation we got out of the house early this morning and headed 2hrs west to the Beaverhead outside of Dillan. Henneberry fishing access was supposed to be a good access point for wading, but the whole river was a slues. Heavy vegetation on the bottom made for almost impossible nymphing. Floating is about the only way to access this part of the river. Ben and I caught a few tiny browns on 18 BWO dries, and I had another 10-11" brown on a lightening bug. As the snow was starting to drive, we bailed and decided to head back to Melrose and jump on the Bighole. It was cold, snowing, windy and we were a bit pissed at the conditions of the Beaverhead after having driven all the way there, but we were determined to fish the rest of the day. We bundled up and headed out. 5 minutes into our walk downstream we saw two immature bull moose, one with a small rack, the other with just buttons. We watched them on the bank for a while before heading downstream to fish.

On the corner of the first riffle I hooked into a fish on my second cast. After running a few feet downstream the fish rolled and showed me I was dealing with a large brown. Unfortunately I didn't have him hooked very well and while he sat in the slow water my fly came unhooked. I came a bit unglued. It was appropriate for the day. Luckily, the day turned around a bit, despite icing eyes and wind burnt faces. I caught a couple rainbows, 9" and 11", the larger while taking another picture of the two moose still hanging out on the bank. Paul caught a bunch of nice whitefish (four), a 12" rainbow, and a beautiful 9" grayling. The grayling ate a caddis nymph despite water temps hovering just below 40 degrees. Ben fell in near the edge and had a soaking arm - not the best day to do so with blowing wind and snow, but he ended up hooking into a great 16" brown on the last cast of the day. After being fairly skunked all day, I'm pretty sure he kissed that fish before letting it go. It was good to salvage a good afternoon out of such a crappy start. To add to the good finish, we watched a good sized bull moose with a nice rack walk through the alder lined stream on the drive out from Maindenrock access point. He jumped fences with ease and moved effortlessly through the tangled underbrush. Amazing creature - we felt blessed to just watch him if only for a few minutes.

It has been good to get into a rhythm of fishing. The gear all has a place in my mind and all the small details that often require too much attention are becoming second nature. We've all improved at reading water, maximizing drift, and efficiently setting up our rigs. The Tahoe has become our gear vehicle and it's good to drive, waders on, with pole tips resting on the dash, reels lined on the backs of the back seat, wading gear in its place. The body, too, is getting used to this cold, snowy weather. Even with mid-30 temps and 20 mph winds and snow we are staying comfortable and fishing with relative ease. Hopefully, though, the water temps will rise over the next few days and the fish will become more active. Tomorrow we hit the East Gallatin.

Oct. 6, 2009 - Yellowstone Float

2009-10-06T21:23:00.000-07:00

Woke this morning at 6:30 and made a big breakfast with leftover bison and steak to keep us powered up through today's float of the Yellowstone. Any description I muster up will not do the day justice. It was mostly sunny, with a supposed high of 50, and winds steady at 15-25 MPH. Brutal on the casting, but we caught fish despite. I started out wading while Ben and Paul helped Peter get the boat set up and started upstream. From my place on a side channel near a "tributary," I caught 3 rainbows, 9-12" on a black bh zebra midge dropped behind a parachute adams. Had 3 others on, too. Once they figured out the game and stopped biting, I walked downstream to see what I could fish while waiting for the boat to arrive. nothing of interest awaited me, so I headed back up to where Corn Creek dumped in and changed my rig - indicator with "the worm" and the zebra midge. Only a couple casts in I landed a nice 16" rainbow. Fought like a champ, too. The boat had just arrive so I hopped in a started the float.

I have much more to say about this day, but my eyes are closing and I'm exhausted. We're getting up early to drive to the Beaverhead and fish some warmer water tomorrow. I'll fill in the details later, but all three of us hooked into some beautiful fish today and despite the constant distraction of catching whitefish all day, had beautiful scenery and a great day in a drift boat.

Oct. 5, 2009

2009-10-05T22:59:00.000-07:00

Woke up this morning to a few inches of snow covering everything. Snowed throughout the morning. Ben had a lot of work to do, so Paul and I tied flies until noon before the three of us headed out to the Madison River. On recommendation from Peter Vandergrift we headed up to Bear Trap Wilderness Area and jumped in to some good looking riffles and pools. Rainbows were on the menu. Paul caught one right away. Ben soon followed. The river was big, wide, and looked super fishy. But the wading was tough and really the first time we've fished a river of this size. Not sure if the weather was the biggest factor or our strategy, but the fish were few and far between. Paul caught one more and I managed to pull two out of one seam and hooked another, but didn't land it. A few beautiful fish, but nothing more than 15". We're in the mood for some big fish.

Cooked up some bison for dinner - didn't know what to expect and was very pleasantly surprised. Wicked good. Hit the hot tub for an hour or so after dinner. Rolled in the snow halfway through to break things up. Loved it. Beautiful sky with stars poking intermittently through the overcast sky. Hopefully the haloed moon brings good luck for tomorrow. We're meeting Peter at 9:00AM to float the Yellowstone. "Let's go catch some big fish" was the last thing Pete said to me before cell service cut out. Let's hope he's right. Should be a beautiful day - first in a while - and we're looking forward to a full day on the river.

2009-10-04T18:48:00.000-07:00

Finally bought real food to stock the kitchen. It's been too long. Local beef, sausage, bacon, and bison to start. Turned some of the beef into Trout Slayer Stew (Patent Pending). It'll do a body good. Can't wait to come back in from the stream and snow to a cup tomorrow. In the meantime, we're settling for a Sunday night Steelers game (whooping up on the Chargers) and the smell of stew.

Oct. 4, 2009

2009-10-04T16:14:00.000-07:00

Picked up Paul from the airport and had some dinner at four corners last night before coming back to the cabin and toasting the week. Half a bottle of makers made sure we all slept well. I was up at 7:00 to touch base with Peter Vandegrift about our plans for the week. The winter storm warning for today and tomorrow settled the discussion and we'll probably float the Yellowstone River on Tuesday or Thursday depending on how the weather shapes up. Today was mostly blustery with flurries and cold. We got a quick breakfast after talking with Peter and hit the closest fly shop for supplies and a license for Paul. Got on the Gallatin around 10:30 and fished until 3:30. Fishing was slow. Ben had the first fish of the day, I had the most fish, and Paul hooked into the biggest. Stood at one hole and caught 4 trout and 3 creek chubs. Lost too many flies for so few hours of fishing. Had to take a walk back for my net at day's end and Paul took a last minute, unplanned dip crossing for home. We're all burnt and dazed from fighting the wind all day. Headed to the supermarket for food for the week. Looking forward to a big pot of beef stew. This storm is supposed to dump anywhere from 4 to 15 inches of snow tonight and tomorrow morning. Probably going to tie flies and rest up in the morning then explore the Madison river in the afternoon.

p.s. Paul sat next to Ms. Montana's mom on the plane. She seemed to want to talk to us at the airport, but then quickly ran off. Perhaps I'm not as good looking as I think...

Oct. 3, 2009 - Bozeman, MT - Day one

2009-10-03T17:55:00.000-07:00

Gallatin rainbow:
View from the fly shop:
On the road:
Got up around 5:00 this morning, packed, and started the 5.5hr drive to Bozeman. The moon was bright, hovering on the horizon to our left. The sun was slowly rising to our right, the sky slowly changing colors through the spectrum. Most of the drive was in a straight, unwavering line up I-25 and then across I-90. After Buffalo, WY, the antelope and mule deer were everywhere. Saw one nice 8-pt muley crossing the road in front of us. Must have seen 300 antelope.

Driving west through Montana slowly brought Mountains into view. Impressive, snow covered peaks would appear on the horizon, slowly grow as we drew closer and then disappear behind us. Lots of pictures were snapped - few of them, I'm sure, are any good. But it was fun to be in awe of the scenery. Pulled into Bozeman around 11:00 and went directly to the fly shop, Montana Troutfitters. Got some tips and compliments on our timing - the fishing should be awesome. Super friendly guys and a beautiful store.

After a quick bite to eat we arrived at the house. This place is beautiful. Right on the Gallatin - it's literally a 1min. walk to the stream. We threw our stuff in the house and quickly donned the waders and hit the stream. Ben caught a nice brown right away. I hooked into a large creek chub, the first of 6 through the afternoon. Ben caught a handful more trout and I managed to catch 4, all rainbows. The last fish of the day was a nice 15" rainbow that took a bwo dry out of the bubble line downstream from a half-submerged tree top.

The wind started to blow something fierce and we called it quits around 6:00PM. I'm still trying to stay on the healthy side of this head cold so getting chilled to the bone is not a good idea. A nasty winter storm is blowing in later tonight and should stick around for two days. We'll decide in the morning whether to meet up with Pete Vandegrift tomorrow or on Monday. Hoping he'll give us a primer on Bozeman streams.

Very much looking forward to being in this house for a week. I need some stability amid these travels and this is going to be just perfect. Paul arrives in just about an hour. It's going to be insane being here for so long, just the three of us, fishing, cooking, drinking, relaxing. Couldn't be looking forward to this more.

Pictures from Big Thompson

2009-10-03T17:50:00.000-07:00

Wild rainbow from the canyon stretch:

Ben sneaking:

The canyon:

Fishing the far side:

One of the doubles:

Oct. 2, 2009 - Hotel bound

2009-10-03T17:43:00.000-07:00

Woke up feeling like crap today. Head cold had taken over the body. Decided to take it easy and try to get healthy. After eating what was probably the absolute worst breakfast I've ever choked down we hit the Casper, WY fly shop for a couple more tying materials. The rest of the day was spend at the hotel tying, napping, taking medicine, and planning. Sucks to have "lost" a day, but we've been in hotel rooms for almost a week now and needed a breather. Miracle mile will have to wait for another trip. Spent the evening at the hotel restaurant watching the Rockies game and talking with some antelope/mule deer hunters. The bourbon felt good on the throat.

Oct. 1, 2009

2009-10-01T21:58:00.000-07:00

Slept poorly last night on the couch. The lack of humidity and perhaps some allergies are making my sinuses hurt, eyes itch, and my throat scratch. Bothered me all day and night so hopefully I'll find a remedy soon. Despite this annoyance, the day was amazing.

We drove an hour and a bit north on I-25 into Loveland, CO and to the Sylvan Dale Ranch. Private water along the Big Thompson river. The morning was chilly, mid-forties, and the fishing was slow. The first fish of the day, however, found their way on to Ben's and my line at the same time. A double to start off the trip. We nymphed small riffles and runs hooking into fish at a slow pace. Ben got into one really good hole and caught a bunch of rainbows, I had a nice sized brown on that came off right at the net. The fish weren't too big, 8-14"s, but they were all wild browns and rainbows and colored very beautifully. Bright red gill plates on the rainbows and bright yellow on the browns. And the fish fought well, better as the day progressed. The morning ended with a cold wind and the three of us all looking forward to warming up inside the ranch. After a quick lunch we headed to the "canyon" section just above where the public water starts.

Caught a beautiful rainbow at the first hole along the canyon wall. At the second hole Chris started setting us up at some friendly competition - how many fish can you catch in 10 minutes. Ben beat me both times, but we were soon both pulling fish after fish out of the creek. Mostly baetis nymphs, micro-mays, bwo emergers, and a rainbow somethingerother. We fished up the canyon to the hole where we started the morning before heading back up to the ranch. As we were turning the car around, Ben saw lots of fish rising on the public water. Luckily, they were also rising on the ranch water. We spent the next hour casting to 100 rising fish and catching a lot of them. The sun was setting and it was beautiful on the water, fish fins breaking the surface. I caught a nice 16" brown who was stationed on the edge of the river in a small side channel. He was poking the side of his head out of the water and sipping flies effortlessly. The water was so shallow his tail was often sticking out of the water. I was on my knees casting upstream, a few drifts and he took my fly. Probably the best catch of the day, although not the biggest fish.

As the dries died down, we tied our nymphs back on and started a catching frenzy. We could hardly keep the flies in the water without fish biting. I caught 6 fish upstream, including a huge, 18" rainbow. Moved down to "teepee rock" and, literally, caught 16 fish out of the hole. Browns and rainbows, all gorgeous, all fighting like fish twice their size, and all welcome. Caddis nymphs of all sorts were killing, baetis nymphs were almost as productive. Crazy, crazy fishing. All told we probably caught 60-70 fish through the day. A helluva way to start and a heck of a bar set for the rest of the week. It was good to be so successful, but better to get the rust knocked off, get instruction from Chris on technique, and get a sense of what flies will be productive out here. I think it will make for a more confident trip, if not more successful...

After getting out of the water we drove 3.5hrs to Casper. We're exhausted in a ramada hotel room - looks like a "motor inn," indoors...odd. Tomorrow we'll explore the miracle mile and figure out what we're doing Saturday. Unless tomorrow is amazing, we'll likely leave here early Saturday and head to Bozeman to fish before Paul arrives.

Pictures to follow.

Sept. 30, 2009

2009-09-30T21:56:00.000-07:00

Early morning. 7:00AM departure from hotel and a 9:00AM flight. Uneventful flight with little interaction with folks around us. Arrived in Denver and loaded into the Tahoe. Made our way into Denver and met up with Laura. Hit up REI for some hydration packs, socks, and found a good deal on biking gloves. Got worked over a little more at the fly shop where we bought leaders, fly tying materials and couple "example" flies. Dinner, pool, and indoor-shuffle-board rounded out the day after some fly tying. Excited to hit Sylvan Dale ranch tomorrow. Don't know whether our plans to hit Casper, WY will hold up or if we'll end up in Big H(C)orn. Thanks Laura's roommate. Frantically bought a day license before crashing. Read a bunch of Charles Bukowski and its screwing with my dead a bit.

Westbound

2009-09-29T06:05:00.000-07:00

It has been a long year. Quickly passing, but trying in indescribably ways.

Ben and I head to Colorado tomorrow to begin a 18 day tour of western waters, searching for angry browns. It is our hope that this trip meets a very pressing need for immediate escape from reality while marking the beginning of changed perspectives and approaches to life. Contradictions are obvious, but the experience of losing Dad so quickly has impressed strong desires to make meaningful contributions with our lives while finding ways to live life to its fullest and for today. Balance, harmony?, between these two approaches to life will be hard to achieve and examples are hard to find. However, the changes in my own perceptions and engagement with life, the world, are palpable each day. There is no going back - there is hardly any recognition, consciousness of how I used to think, be. I am confident this experience will make me a better, happier, and peaceful person.

I've taken trips before and often cursed my failing memories as I later tried to recall certain events, places. So, since this blog was started to catalog outdoor adventures (mostly), I think I'll try to keep a daily log of our activities, however briefly. Looking forward to the first post, tomorrow, from Denver.

We can face death well if we live life well

2009-08-07T15:22:00.000-07:00

By Robin Palmer, Gifford Medical Center, Randolph, VT:
Living while dying
Metcalf brothers share their father’s loss, their experiences in Gifford’s Garden Room and the life they found within

In life, Steve Metcalf was committed to his work as an educator. In death, he found joys to life outside his office walls, even in his darkest hours.

Perhaps best known in for his 20 years as elementary school principal, Metcalf was a career educator.

He studied history, special education and educational administration, collecting multiple degrees; he served in the U.S. Navy and Naval Reserves, including four years of active duty; and taught for 10 years, primarily in schools in his native New York, all before accepting the principal position that would bring him to Randolph, Vt., in 1985.

He was serious about this work, politics, morality, the meaning of life and fatherhood.

“He worked and he spent time with us,” says his oldest son, Alex, recalling growing up in their Central Street home with a dad who at home checked to see if they were doing their homework and in Vermont strove to make the educational system better for all.

His work in Randolph earned him superintendent roles in first the Orange-Windsor Supervisory Union and then for the last two years at the Montpelier School District where he was embraced as a “visionary,” “leader,” hard worker and a “perfect match” for the school system.

And then the bottom fell out.

⁪⁪⁪

Over Thanksgiving and through Christmas last year, Metcalf was feeling an uncomfortable, pressure in his side. He’d had gallstones in the past and thinking these might have returned, he visited his doctor at Gifford Medical Center, Milt Fowler. After trying a medication with no relief, Dr. Fowler ordered a CT scan of Metcalf’s side.

It revealed (and later a biopsy confirmed) the worst possible news: Metcalf had rare and likely incurable stage 4 bile duct cancer.

On Jan. 12 he called his closest allies with the news – his sons, 30-year-old Alex and 27-year-old Ben.

“They found something that they’re worried about” the father told his sons and 24-year-old daughter Emily of Bethel.

“It was just a baseball bat to the head, over and over and over,” says Ben of what it was like to receive the devastating news.

“Your whole perspective on life has just changed and you will never recognize it again,” adds Alex.

The two immediately made plans to come home to Vermont, leaving their homes and careers behind.

Alex was living in Pennsylvania in a house he and Ben bought together and finishing his final semester at Penn State for his Ph.D. in forestry. Ben was in Washington, D.C., working as chief operating officer for the Democrat Governor’s Association, and for other clients through a management, consulting and operations business he started and runs.

The pair returned to attend an oncology visit with their father.

The prognosis was not good. The cancer was in his bile duct, a thin tube that reaches from the liver to the small intestines and transports bile from the liver and gallbladder to the small intestine, where it helps digest fats in foods. But it had also spread outside the liver in lymph nodes and he had spots of cancer on his lungs.

His oncologist called the disease “devastating.” “There is just no stopping this. People just don’t survive this,” Ben and Alex recall being told.

Having survived throat cancer 20 years before in 1989, Metcalf approached his treatment and disease with what his sons knew was often an “irrational” hope for a cure.

“He decided early he was going to give this everything that he had fighting it,” Alex says. “We had to live knowing and accepting this was going to happen and also fighting it the whole way.”

Metcalf underwent first one round of chemotherapy and then a second. The first left him physically feeling fine, but blood work showed it was not effective in treating the cancer. The second round, a different regiment, wreaked havoc on Metcalf’s health, hurting his cancer-filled liver and signaling an end for a chance at a cure.

The news came April 29. A day later, with his health declining, he resigned from his beloved post with the Montpelier School District.

An appointment with another oncologist for a second opinion was scheduled in hopes that a third round of chemotherapy would be possible, but Metcalf never made it to that appointment.

He was hospitalized on May 6.

⁪⁪⁪

Amidst it all, the accolades poured in.

He was celebrated at Montpelier High School, where a scholarship was established in his honor, and at Randolph Elementary School, where the library was dedicated to him. The Vermont General Assembly passed a resolution during a special session honoring him as “an exemplary public education leader in Vermont.” And cards, letters and casseroles filled the mailbox and porch steps.

Many of the letters outlined moments or words of wisdom shared by Metcalf with a new teacher or friend that have since directed their careers or lives.

“We always knew how important his work was to him. I don’t think we had a clue how important he was to other people,” says Alex, noting they had to bring in a second refrigerator – and expand their belts – to accommodate all the gifts of food.

And despite the seriousness of his illness, the once all-work Metcalf was having fun.

They took two trips to Florida to sail and play golf, knowing that if Metcalf’s time was as limited as his doctors were saying, he wouldn’t live to see much warm weather in Vermont.

They laughed. They joked, including about the day Metcalf, a bit out-of-it due the medicines he was taking, accidentally shaved off his beard.

On May 2^nd they traveled to D.C. to see a Washington Capitals hockey game. Education conferences took Metcalf to D.C. occasionally, so the year before Ben had bought the close-knit trio season tickets. They became ardent fans.

Metcalf, despite feeling very ill, spent the day of May 2 chewing the ears of Sens. Patrick Leahy and Bernie Sanders and Rep. Peter Welch on education issues, and then spent the evening eating out, watching the Capitals game with his sons and hitting the bars until the early morning hours.

“It was ironic,” says Ben, “that Dad taught us that lesson: to stop and enjoy.”

⁪⁪⁪

The good times didn’t end in Florida or D.C.

In his hospital room at Gifford Medical Center, Melcalf and his children experienced times of heartache, and jubilation

He entered the hospital with a serious blood infection – a side effect of the cancer, his sons say, and one they thought would almost immediately take his life.

“The doctors didn’t think he had enough in the tank to come out of it,” says Ben. “We started planning the funeral right away.

“And then he bounced back.”

A bout with pneumonia followed. But again Metcalf rallied.

“We sat for almost another month not knowing what the hell was going on. He was on this plateau,” says Ben.

The majority of his time was spent in the hospital’s Garden Room for dying patients and their families, which afforded them the luxury of a family suite, privacy, plenty of room for visitors and around the clock care.

They watched the Capitals and then the Red Sox, say the brothers in matching faded Boston ball caps.

“We laughed so hard all the time. The day he died, we were laughing. For the situation that we were in, we had a lot of fun,” says Alex, noting it was his father who set the tone of his death. “I don’t think I could do it the way he did it.”

They warmed themselves in the sun of Gifford’s Courtyard Garden, just outside the Garden Room. And they benefited from the care of doctors, nurses and cleaning staff that provided “unbelievable care.”

“They were each unbelievable in both physical care and emotional care,” says Ben of Gifford’s nurses in particular.

Metcalf, never one to indulge before, got massages every chance he got.

“Probably one of the best things that he had were the massages,” says Alex, noting his father was in pain and largely bed-bound. “It was one of the few things that provided him comfort.”

The hospital also provided the family “comfort carts” or daily meals.

The massages and meals came free of charge thanks to an annual motorcycle ride the hospital holds to support end-of-life care services at Gifford. This year’s ride, the Last Mile Ride, is Saturday and several riders are riding in memory of the long-time educator.

⁪⁪⁪

Steve Metcalf died on June 11 at the age of 62. He was buried on June 21, one day before Father’s Day, in the majestic Vermont Veterans Memorial Cemetery on a hilltop in Randolph Center.

The Metcalfs, who are sharing their story in support of the ride, are appreciative of the Garden Room and “humbled” by riders’ and so many others’ support.

“It was a month of hell, but I can’t imagine having gone through it any other setting,” says Ben of his family’s experience in the Garden Room.

“My aunt left there saying when I’m sick, I want to be here because I’ve never heard of anything like this anywhere,” Alex says. “The fact that this community has this facility is first of all phenomenal and secondly needs to be supported generously.”

The two brothers are supporting the ride and preparing to move on.

They’re cleaning out their father’s home so that it can be sold, mourning their father’s loss and the moments in their lives that he will miss, but they are also looking brightly toward the future.

“There are moments that it is paralyzing that he’s gone,” says Ben.

“I pick up the phone to call him all the time,” adds Alex.

But as the duo works to let go of old habits, and old places, they’re taking their father’s final lesson to heart: they’re seizing life.

Alex will return to Penn State in September to finish his Ph.D. Ben will not go back to D.C. He’s moving to Pennsylvania with his brother, where they plan to go in to business together.

“We’re done waiting for some ambiguous point down the road,” says Ben.

Rather, in their father’s death, they’re living.

Learn more about the Last Mile Ride online at www.giffordmed.org. There is still time to register.

***

Gifford Medical Center in Randolph, Vt., is a community hospital with family health centers in Bethel, Chelsea, Rochester and Sharon and specialty services throughout central Vermont. Gifford is a full-service hospital with a 24-hour emergency department, inpatient and rehabilitation units, a day care, an adult day care and a 30-bed nursing home, the Menig Extended Care Facility, which opened in 1998 on the main campus. The Birthing Center, established in 1977, was the first in Vermont to offer an alternative to the traditional hospital-based deliveries and continues to be a leader in midwifery and family-centered care.

The hospital’s mission is to improve individuals’ and community health by providing and assuring access to affordable and high-quality health care in Gifford’s service area.

Vermont Summer Nights

2009-08-05T19:47:00.001-07:00

After a beautifully simple dinner with great friends, the night is weighing. Living in the moment is somewhat taxing. It is easiest to forget about the magnitude of your daily decisions. It is easiest to invest solely in the future. It is difficult to live in the joy and the pain of the moment. But there is no better way to live. And so it goes.

2009-04-23T09:20:00.001-07:00

As expected

2009-03-03T07:36:00.000-08:00

True to form I have neglected this blog and failed to document any of the happenings over the past few months. I'm sure random e-mails, photos, and google chats will serve to remind me. Life, in the meantime, has gone on and is playing hardball. The cards filling my dad's mantle, desk, and kitchen counter tell a story of commitment, honor, integrity, and unyielding love and empowerment. I'm overwhelmed. We're struggling with how to proceed. Live life with some level of normalcy? Enjoy each other's company. I'm angry at the snow and the weather for keeping us cooped up right now. Travel, although fun and somewhat refreshing, is a poor substitute for being warm and happy at home, able to work hard and build onto life. I'm struggling with finding a rhythm to my days. Work is calling and I must answer, I want to answer, but motivation is fleeting. I seek distractions with fervor. I can't shake the feeling there is something productive I could be doing to help the situation around here and find myself tackling any small problem or mess or detail just to feel useful and productive. Soon, deadlines will loom and work will force itself upon me. Strangely looking forward to it. I know all of this will change my life, but I've yet to figure out how or how much. There are a range of possibilities. This is among many silver linings.

Opening Day

2008-11-30T17:47:00.001-08:00

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

Foundational concern

2008-11-08T04:06:00.000-08:00

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

2008-11-04T08:11:00.001-08:00

Halloween Deer

2008-11-02T05:22:00.000-08:00

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

2008-10-27T16:03:00.000-07:00

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

2008-10-22T04:45:00.000-07:00

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...

2008-10-15T10:37:00.001-07:00

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

2008-10-15T10:01:00.000-07:00

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

2008-10-06T19:30:00.001-07:00

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

2008-09-04T04:35:00.000-07:00

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

2008-08-04T06:34:00.000-07:00

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

2008-08-02T06:02:00.000-07:00

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

2008-06-07T07:08:00.000-07:00

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

2008-05-30T18:50:00.000-07:00

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

2008-05-26T08:47:00.001-07:00

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

2008-04-29T06:22:00.000-07:00

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

2008-04-27T17:47:00.000-07:00

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

2008-04-22T19:41:00.001-07:00

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!

2008-04-22T19:35:00.000-07:00

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

2008-04-18T05:44:00.001-07:00

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...

2008-04-17T09:30:00.000-07:00

...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

2008-04-16T16:41:00.000-07:00

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

2008-04-15T18:39:00.000-07:00

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

2008-04-14T17:48:00.001-07:00

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

2008-04-14T11:43:00.000-07:00

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

2008-04-14T11:39:00.000-07:00

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

2008-04-06T07:22:00.001-07:00

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.

Signs of Spring

2008-03-27T09:45:00.000-07:00

Daylight until past 8PM
Spring peepers along the Little J.
T running away for some...you know
Robins galore.
Not wanting to do school work.
Rain, rain, and more rain.
Fishing...? Soon.

Weight

2008-03-18T05:21:00.000-07:00

Alright, that's it. 213. That's what the bathroom scale read this morning. It's time to lose it. Don't know what my "ideal" body weight is, but I'm guessing it's less than 200. So, 195 will be my goal for now. The cold, wet, snowy, sleety, icy weather isn't helping. But, blame it on the rain? No, I've been ridiculous in my eating and non-exercise habits - time to stop. So, nothing drastic, but daily exercise (running when the temp is above 45) and less on the intake side. Going to try cutting out the wicked bad stuff: bacon, cheese, butter, icecream, pizza, mayo, beer (in large amounts), beer (as a regular beverage), and fried food. Other than that, just going to try eating after exercise and not getting seconds of everything. C'est la vie, and I'd like to enjoy it.

March Fishing

2008-03-17T16:28:00.000-07:00

Hit Penn's today; caught four rainbows. CFS was 950 - a touch high, but fishable. Air temp 57, water temp 45. Sunny and lots of midges coming off although no surface action. Crazy erosion along penns creek road from all the flooding, but no worse for the wear. Some guy stopped by and said that the penn's creek road section isn't open until the first day of trout - going to have to check on that before next time...

Porcupine (Luckily, in a tree)

2008-03-10T16:44:00.000-07:00

Went for a nice walk yesterday off Green's Valley Road. The air was cold, but the sun was warm and softened the snow on the south facing slope of every little rise and every hill. The road was mostly ice, so we took a detour onto an old jeep trail and followed it along the ridge. We had to leave around 5:15 to drive to Alexandria to meet Julia and Denny at Main Street so we were just about to turn around - we'd gotten to a wide clearing, probably used as a log landing some years ago. Instead of turning around, we decided to take a quick jaunt up a side trail to the top of the ridge and (hopefully) a view of the valley and Pleasant Gap below.
I could see the dogs getting more and more "interested" and even said, "They seem to like something up there..." They did: a porcupine. Luckily, the little guy found his way up a small maple sapling before the dogs could get to him. He kept climbing as they jumped and barked and whined and he made it up onto all but the highest and tiniest branches. We tried to keep the dogs quiet, admired the dark creature peering down from his perch, and quickly departed before we scared the poor thing too much (or he lost his grip and ruined our good luck!). Hopefully that will be the closest encounter we have with porcupines! I've heard dogs react one of two ways to porcupines: Either "That things hurt! GET IT!" or "That thing hurt! Better leave it alone!" I'm content having no idea which strategy my dogs would take :)

Flooding

2008-03-05T14:36:00.000-08:00

Looks like most of the flooding is past - only a few basements flooded and such, but the streams are pretty blown out. Penn's Creek Road is completely flooded and shut down. Wonder where those fishes go to hide from the strong currents and muddy waters...

Rain on snow

2008-03-05T02:00:00.001-08:00

Hope it stops raining soon...

Sleep

2008-03-03T05:34:00.000-08:00

Something has changed; I can sleep. It's not that I couldn't sleep before, it's just that I'm falling asleep quicker, sleeping through the night (instead of waking up with anxious thoughts), and I can sleep past 7:30 (when applicable). It's supposed to be 55 today so I'm going to mix some exercise in with the sleep and see how that works out (no pun intended). Maybe these bags under my eyes will go away in a few weeks? The relief is still not complete - but I can feel my body relaxing after tensing up for the past two months; it feels good. (Party pictures here)

PASSED!!

2008-02-29T09:57:00.000-08:00

IT'S OVER. It was three and a half hours of constant questions and discussion - it lived up to the hype of being one of the most difficult (academic) things I've done - and it's finished. Passed with flying colors as they say, and I couldn't be happier about it. I think it's going to take a few weeks to set in that it's actually over and I never have to do it again! Now I just have to write, write, and write some more - get these papers done and finish up. I think I love leapday now (did you know leapday is always on a Friday?).

Finally

2008-02-29T03:41:00.000-08:00

You would think nervousness would be the dominant emotion right now. And don't get me wrong, I'm pretty goddamn nervous. But relief is what I'm feeling. Not much that can happen in the next 4 hours can be worse than the past four weeks. Bring it on.

Resignation

2008-02-28T16:51:00.000-08:00

Well, there's not much more I can do at this point. Re-read all my answers and made notes about points that need to be clarified and ideas that were omitted. Should have read some more papers and tried to memorize more authors and their "contributions," but I'm just not convinced that knowing authors is important. In fact, I think if articles were published anonymously, the science would be better, the egoism would be reduced, and we'd all be better off. Hopefully I don't have to make that argument tomorrow - likely not to work. After my candidacy exam I felt as if I'd been beaten up. My answers, no matter how thoughtful, were scoffed at and my written submission, no matter how detailed, was pushed aside. I have reason to believe that my committee will be much more friendly, but I'm not looking forward to being beaten up again. There are 10 questions and 4 members so I'm hoping we can't get into that much depth in any one given area - yeah right. I have a feeling that at the end of it all I'm just going to feel exhausted and upset and not exactly happy with my performance. Glad I'll be with good friends - looking forward to a good, tall, , well-deserved toast to this seemingly never-ending stress coming to a close.

Junk Drawer

2008-02-28T08:34:00.000-08:00

Any good home has a junk drawer. We've been working slowly on ours, but now its time to step it up. I found some matches and a pin to add today . Hopefully by summer we'll barely be able to close the thing. I think we need more rubber bands and paperclips. If you'd like to send some, let me know - if this is going to succeed, it's going to be a team effort.

Snowy Stream

2008-02-26T05:02:00.001-08:00

The temperature was in the mid thirties yesterday and the sun was shining - time to go fishing. Headed down to Coburn and parked just past the intersection of Penns Creek and Long Roads. Changed into my waders amid the roadside slop and tied on a green woolly bugger and a woven stonefly nymph. My leader was in poor shape having been slowly shaved down at the end of last year, but the deeper holes proved fruitful - four rainbows; one small, two around 10" and one pushing 13. Had a fifth one on, but I couldn't set the hook well as it hit right in front of me and lost it after a brief fight. Never had to change flies - caught two on both. It was great trying to cast along snow covered banks and hemlocks. The stream was at about 600cfs and a touch off color - perfect. The water was cold and my stripping hand got pretty cold in the wind - have to bring a glove next time. Now it's raining/snowing/sleeting outside and I've got a lot of work to do. Guess I'll be at this computer again for most of the day.

February Hunt

2008-02-24T18:06:00.000-08:00

Last hunt for the year today. Paul, Libby, T, Thor, Porter and I hit Idiehl for five hours today. Shot skeet for a while before tromping the grounds in search of chukkar. Gorgeous blue sky and warm sun made me forget for a while it is still February . The dogs were crazy - running hard and listening poorly, but we were able to bag six out of seven birds; the seventh flew right over the dogs' heads until it was out of range. It was so nice to walk ourselves tired, feel the wind and sun on our faces, and watch the dogs work and the guns shoot well. Can't wait for next year...

Bald Eagle

2008-02-24T05:13:00.001-08:00

We took the dogs for a walk out at Bald Eagle reservoir yesterday - its a beautiful spot tucked in against the steep bald eagle ridge. Paul and I used to hunt pheasant there a lot during my first few years here. It was at bald eagle that I got to see Whiskey in action and at his prime; he would go full tilt through just about anything, lock on the most solid points, and most impressively, would track (catch if needed) and retrieve most any bird we hit. He was beautiful and inspired me to take the plunge into dog ownership. It was nice to walk those fields again and remember one of the best hunting spots, and dogs, I may ever know.
They don't stock pheasant at Bald Eagle anymore - this was my first time back there in years. The fields once left long for habitat are cut short, the paths are crowded with multi-flora rose. It looked like the rabbit population is doing well, but the deer tracks were few and far between. Whiskey had to be put down a couple weeks ago - his old age had caught up with him and the health issues were too many. I don't envy having to make such a decision; I'm not looking forward to parting with my dogs. But the memories make me want to live in and enjoy each moment. We're headed down to Idiehl this afternoon - our last birds for the year. A different ridge, different fields, and now, Whiskey's sons working hard.

Done?

2008-02-18T05:52:00.000-08:00

Today's the last day I have to work on these answers. I keep going back and forth between confidence that I've done a good job and certainty that I've blown it. Reality is probably a good combination of both. Sitting here waiting for the 29th isn't going to be fun. Wonder how hard they're going to grill me. Anyway, looking forward to this being completely over so I can focus on writing. I'm hoping I can focus on getting papers written and "out" all spring and summer. Should be relatively easy. Hopefully other stuff won't creep into the schedule too badly. Really have to start thinking about where I want to be come January '09.

Uno Mas

2008-02-14T12:41:00.000-08:00

One more. Whew. I've been sitting in this chair for one week. I don't know how much energy I have for editing. Probably ought to make sure my answers are in English... Really curious how the defense will go. Is the point just to give me a hard time? Can't wait 'till March 1.

Halfway

2008-02-11T20:10:00.000-08:00

Alright - I'm halfway there. It's amazing how physical and emotional this intellectual challenge is. I'm exhausted and starting to question my every move. The last "answer" was 20 pages and rereading it made me want to puke at how "sappy" I was at the beginning of it - poetically reflecting on forestry. Need to go back and change that. I've been sitting in this damn chair for four days straight and will be here for four more. Ugh. But I'm done with five; five more to go. I had thoughts on most every question when I initially read them, but getting it all down on paper is exhausting. I'm taking a break in a wine bottle right now. Can't wait to type my "I'm done" post.

"Comprehensive"

2008-02-08T07:43:00.000-08:00

1. Defend research that spans multiple disciplines

2. Describe and contrast the methods of FIA/NWOS vs. our PFL study and discuss implications on timber volume estimates

3. Defend research that uses both qualitative and quantitative methods

4. Review all pertinent literature re: encouraging PFLs to work together, then design a comprehensive study to explore these issues

5. Draft a forest practices act, an implementation plan, and monitoring scheme. Define positions of stakeholders and devise a strategy for garnering support for your act.

6. Describe the intricacies of ordinary least squares modeling and the ways it is appropriately and inappropriately used

7. Pose two hypotheses regarding PFLs and written management plans and design a full statistical model to test.

8. Describe how procurement foresters influence forest sustainability and how we can improve their "impact"

9. Detail what PFLs should do about Gypsy Moths from a sustainable forestry perspective

10. Design and fully detail a comprehensive Human Dimensions of Natural Resources course that could be taught at a small liberal arts college.

Comps are here

2008-02-07T14:44:00.000-08:00

We set the date for my comps over two months ago. Seemed a long ways off back then. The time has flied and tomorrow I get my questions. Anywhere from 8 to 16 questions, 10 days to answer them. Supposedly, answers should be 8-12 pages per question. Really looking forward to this... It's February in PA, the skies are permanently gray, and the temperature switches frequently between freezing and almost freezing making it impossible for any snow to stick around. It's a miserable time to be outside with the mud and the cold and the ice. Time to hunker down, write 100pages, and take the next step toward this degree.

Unpointable birds

2008-02-05T15:19:00.000-08:00

Went for a nice walk today up on lower greens valley road with the dogs. Overcast with a bit of fog floating through the leafless trees, but the temperature is right around 50 and is was so nice to feel the fresh air. I was thinking a lot about pointing dogs and flushing dogs and the best strategy for nabbing those wily feathered beasts. Here's the thing; most hunters fall into either a pointing or flushing "camp." Flushing dogs search for birds and when found, chase and/or lunge at them to flush them out of the cover offering the hunter a shot. When pointing dogs find birds they thoroughly freeze their bodies so as to not scare the bird up, but rather "point" the bird out to the hunter. These strategies require different training techniques and offer completely different hunting experiences. But when your goal is to find birds and fill the game pouch, our resident roughed grouse doesn't always cooperate with either strategy. So what strategy is best? Is one really better than another?

As far as I understand it, those with flushing breeds train their dogs to hunt close (within gun range) and thoroughly search the cover. If the dog hunts beyond gun range, then birds flushed will simply fly off. Hunting over a flushing dog requires constant attention to keep the dog within range and stay prepared to shoot as the dog will likely flush a bird quickly.

Pointing dog owners hunt differently. Dogs are encouraged to range further and "hold" a bird on point until the hunter can get within range. Sometimes pointing dogs are trained to flush birds on command and other times they are trained to be steady (remain on point) until the hunter has flushed, shot, and given a retrieve command.

The problem is that birds don't always cooperate. In my experience, most grouse don't hold very long providing few opportunities for pointing. Other game birds, especially pheasant, often run along the ground to get away from dogs instead of flying. If you're going to have a flushing dog, how can you keep them in range once they're tracking a scent trail? If you're going to have a pointer, then what's the good of it if you only work them inside gun range? I guess the answer I've come to in the short time I've owned dogs is to adjust how I work the dogs depending on what I'm hunting. When hunting grouse or otherwise "spooky" birds, I do my best to keep the dogs within gun range. When hunting chukkar or pheasant, I let the dongs range and rely on them to hold birds until I can close the distance.

The biggest problem with this approach is running pheasant, especially the roosters. From what I've seen, once a pheasant has decided to run, it is unlikely to sit still and be "held" in place by a dog. So what to do? It's fairly easy to tell when a dog is on a running bird- nose to the ground, tail wagging furiously, sharp direction changes as they explore dead ends and return to the scent. When I see this, I have to keep the dogs within range despite their best efforts. So, within range on grouse and running birds, further out on steady birds. There is a little more room for error here than with a flushing dog, as the pointing reaction will likely give you a few moments more to react on those quick to flush birds. The other option is let the dogs run down those running birds and hope they learn to cut them off and hold them on point or flush them back to me...probably depends on the day:)

Probably boring to most people, but I needed to get my thoughts straight. Luckily, no one reads this besides me!

Colossal Choke

2008-02-04T06:10:00.000-08:00

That was disgusting. Brady looked horrible save for one scoring drive. The Giants caught every break, from fumbles falling forward for first downs, to fumbles apparently recovered by the Pats but ruled the Giants ball?, to that ridiculous escape by Manning followed by a terrible, terrible throw and a game deciding catch against a helmet amid three defenders?! We lost it though. I thought it was over when the Sox won the World Series, but leave it to Boston to raise their fans' hopes and find an improbably and utterly heartbreaking way to shatter them. This one's gonna hurt for a long time.

DC Superbowl

2008-02-01T08:20:00.000-08:00

In DC for the superbowl. Left from State College early to avoid the impending ice storm. Felt bad dropping the dogs off at the kennel (always do), headed to dumplingfest (don't ask), and drove to DC to arrive just after midnight. Ben's at work now, but soon we'll start the ridiculousness. The Pats are favored by 12.5 points which means we're supposed to win rather easily. Everyone always hopes for a good, close, exciting game. I'm hoping for a complete blowout, a Manning meltdown, and a decisive win with a 20+ point spread. It's going to be a long wait till Sunday night.

Partridge in PA

2008-01-31T11:01:00.000-08:00

Grouse season ended last Saturday. This was the first season I really got out since coming back to Pennsylvania. My first year in grad school I hunted pheasant and woodcock a lot with Paul as grouse numbers were super low. New puppies the next year meant I had to maximize their contact with birds. With grouse numbers still low, I figured my best bet was to buy quail for training and hit the game lands to chase stocked birds. With stocking numbers shrinking and quail hurting the bank account I joined Ideihl farms and got the dogs on tons of quail, pheasant, and chukkar. This year, the dogs are trained and grouse numbers are finally back into a semi-healthy range. I only got out a few times during the late season, but ended up with three birds by the season's close. Paul, Primo, and I headed out Saturday and had four beautiful flushes. T pointed my bird beautifully (even if I wasn't paying much attention) and it went down with one shot from my new DeHaan 16ga. Great ending to the first of (hopefully) many more PA grouse hunts.

Eleven Months

2008-01-30T20:02:00.000-08:00

Won't it be nice when we're all able to listen to our president (whoever it is) without cringing or crying? I was going to put a picture up but couldn't stand to look at it. Click at your own risk.

The Itch to Fish

2008-01-30T06:20:00.000-08:00

Freezing rain yesterday. Frigid winds today. Is it possible that having less snow on the ground makes cabin fever worse? All those winters in Vermont seemed a lot more bearable even if they were much longer - I'm convinced a few feet of snow makes winter much more enjoyable. So as hunting seasons draw to a close and winter gets a good grip, I'm getting serious urges to hit the stream. Pictures of clear streams shrouded in greenery aren't helping. I think tying a fly after every article I read for my comps is my only outlet...for now.

Perfecting Procrastination

2008-01-29T13:50:00.000-08:00

Although my comprehensive exams for my PhD begin in less than two weeks, creating a blog somehow made its way to the top of my to-do list. I've had limited success keeping up with journals, so I'm guessing this will soon suffer a similar fate. Only one way to find out...