It reminds me of Ghosts #63

Have you ever noticed that things don’t often remain the same? Have you been so sure of something that come to find out it does not happen when you finally focus on it? Well, that is what this story is about. I don’t have an explanation for it when it happens, but “baffling” would be the word I would use when it does occur.

I begin my story several weeks back when I was hunting for partridge in the North Maine Woods. During the last two weeks in October, as I was riding the road looking for the birds, I came upon two different areas where I spotted signs of deer. As I explored more, I even spotted some at each location. The first week, TC and I came face to face with a very nice doe standing in the road as we drove in. Now, I always determined that where there are does, there are bucks. So, I marked this area on my trusty PN-60 GPS so I would be able to come back to it at a later date. As I continued on, and at a different location, I came upon four deer in the road, again, all does, and again I concluded that where there are does, there are bucks also. So, I marked this location on my GPS and continued on. The following week, I revisited both locations again. As was the week before, while driving to the first marked location on my GPS, I saw a doe on the edge of the road standing motionless. I stopped the truck and watched her for what appeared to be five minutes. She was not spooked by my presence and all the while, she would look back into the firs on the edge of the road. I was not able to see what was there, but from her actions, I surmised that she was not alone. Well, see would walk a bit, come back to the same spot, look in the woods and then paw at the ground. She did this twice and finally she walked across the road to the other side. Once she was out of view, I saw a nice young deer come out of the firs, cross the road and follow her into the woods. Then the buck came across in a flash. I did get to see the massive body and eight points he was sporting before he vanished. You can bet I kept the marking on my GPS and with deer season opening the next weekend, I was sure to visit this spot.

I then decided that I would take a ride over to spot number two and check it out. As I got there, I noticed two deer running off the road with their white flag up, but I was not able to tell if they were does or bucks. Not to worry, they were still there and I would be back next Saturday.

Well on Friday night, the night before deer season opened, I was really excited and anxious to get to the two spots where I had seen the deer. My anticipation at seeing them again was high and I really felt I was going to have early success this year. I was so excited that I was not able to sleep that night with all kinds of notions going through my head, including my running my checklist of needed equipment for the big day ahead.  I had also made a plan that I would get up quite early and be at the first spot before daylight.

Saturday morning came and I finally decided that tossing and turning was not doing me any good, so I decided to get up at 3:30am and get my gear packed in the truck. I left home around 4:45am and made it to the six mile gate in record time. Ed was tending the gate this day and we had a good conversation before I left on my way. I got to spot number one in plenty of time to get ready before the sun came up. The weather was perfect with light winds and I knew a storm was coming that evening. I have always been told that deer are very good judges of weather and can feel an oncoming storm. They often tend to move prior to a storm and I was hopeful that would be the case. It did not take me long to get set up where I felt I had the best chance to see one and as the sun started to come up, the anticipation continued to build. There was an eerie silence that morning which added to the experience. After spending two hours, I was left scratching my head as no deer appeared. I stayed for one more hour and made a decision that I would leave this area and head on over to spot number two.

As I arrived there, I did some planning as to where I would go in and how far back I would go. This area had been harvested roughly two years ago and the skidder trails were still very prevalent and that is where I would begin. Once again, the eerie silence was deafening. Before I went in, I pulled out my Topo map and compass and got my bearings. Then I made my way into the cuttings. There is something about knowing that at any moment, you might see a deer either to the right or left or even in front of you and you have to be on your guard at all times. Not to mention, that I was very careful about making as little noise as I could while walking, so I was watching every step and at the same time kept my whit’s about me in the event that big buck would pop out in front of me. Well, for some time, I walked in that area and made my way over the hill to a place that had some green growth in it. This area was full of deer tracks and I spotted one nice set that made my heart pound. I decided that I would post up and see what came my way. Well, two hours later the wind had picked up, the trees were moving back and forth and the eerie silence of the woods was getting even more eerie. I spent the rest of the day in that area, but never saw a deer. As darkness began to take over, I knew it was time to leave and head back to my truck. When I finally got out and my truck was in sight, I caught myself scratching my head and wondering what had happened. How could the sighting of two weeks in a row end up with what had just occurred. Where did they go? And why was my deduction that when a storm is eminent, they will move come up so wrong? At the end of the day, these were all valid questions, to which I had no answers. It did bring up some new questions that I contemplated on my ride home. Is it luck or is it skill? I debated it and came to this conclusion, I think it is a combination of both and on this day, I had neither in my favor. It will, however, not stop me from repeating the same ritual the next time I am able to get out, and hopefully both skill and luck will be on my side. One can only hope.

The Bear Facts #62

Election Day is just around the corner, November 4 to be exact, and one of the biggest challenges facing Mainers freedoms is front and center on the ballot. Question 1 would ban the most effective manner in which we control our bear population and I felt that I should take a few moments to provide my final analysis on the matter. I am in no way an expert on this, but I have done some research to better educate myself and make an informed decision. It is true that I am a hunter and do believe in gun rights, however, I have always been taught that you only hunt for what you need and will eat, and not just for the sake of killing something needlessly. That being said, I also know that I have seen more signs of bear in the woods. They are almost like the Locke Ness Monster in that you know they are lurking out there, but you usually don’t get to see them. The fact that our wildlife biologists and the Maine Inland Fisheries and Wildlife Department have calculated that there are more than 30,000 bears in the state causes me to be concerned, and going unchecked, the population is sure to grow and spread into more built up areas, which we are seeing signs of already. That will become an issue that will cause more bear, human encounters. Couple that with the fact that there will be more complaints that come in as a result, will only further tax the Maine Warden Service, who are already, in my estimation, under staffed. Why do I say that? From my seat, I seldom see a warden in the woods these days.

So, let’s take a look at some Bear facts.

Maine’s Bear population is estimated at over 30,000

Maine has one of the largest bear populations in the US

This referendum would effectively ban the most effective ways to control the population

93% of all bears harvested are done so using traps, hounds and bait

7% of all bears harvested are done by still hunting. (Walking in the woods and locating them)

Even though baiting, use of dogs and trapping account for 93% of the harvest, on average only 1 in 4 hunters are successful and hunters spend on average 15 days trying to harvest one bear.

All bear baiting sites must be cleaned up at the end of the hunt. Hunters are not allowed to leave food or anything else at their sites.

I hunt and fish and I know how hard it is to see a bear in the woods. Over the 46 years I have been hunting, I have never seen a bear while hunting. The only time I have seen them is when I am riding on the dirt roads and you only see them for a very short time because they tend to run as soon as they see something moving.

The other issue with this referendum is that the HSUS group is not from Maine and they have no idea what is best for our state, nor do they care. They have, at every crossing, tried to stifle the other side from giving you their perspective. As examples, I read that armed Maine Wardens were used to escort people who were scheduled to debate the yes on question one supporters. They did so, because they were receiving threats if they showed up to debate HSUS. They also determined that Mainers were listening to our biologists and Wardens about this election and as a result, filed a law suit to stop them from any further involvement in the debate. Thank goodness, the Maine Superior Court just ruled that their suit had no merit and sided in favor of the Maine Inland Fisheries and Wildlife. Now, 

I also came across an article where they are criticizing the judge who ruled on the matter. Not cool.

We also need to look at the most recent acknowledgement by both the Portland Press Herald and the Morning Sentinel who have come out in favor of a NO vote on Question 1. This, they say, was done after a thorough analysis of the arguments on both sides.

The bottom line is that you have to weigh all the evidence and make the most informed decision you can. For me, I trust the people in our state to make decisions on these sorts of matters and I will be voting NO on November 4.

*** Information obtains from the Maine Inland Fisheries and Wildlife website

Got to see for myself #61

Each year when the leaves change from green to either, red orange or yellow, that serves as my cue to put my fishing gear away and bring out the shotgun in anticipation of partridge season. And each year I try to determine how the bird population will be by my frequent summer trips to the North Maine Woods, as well as asking those who spend time in the woods if they were seeing any birds.  Now, I must admit that the past couple of years should remind me that getting Intel on the subject does not always give me the right answer. If TC and my time in the woods this year counts for anything, it should show that I did not see many birds. Couple that with the conversations I have had with other folks in the woods that say the same thing, and you might conclude that the birds did not have a good winter and you could quickly form the opinion that the bird season is going to be a wash. But, if you are a hard core woodsman like me, you need to see it for yourself, and that is exactly what I did.

When October 1 came, I was invited to join twelve other people for a bird outing in the North Maine Woods. Our base camp for the three day excursion was going to be at Chandler Lake Camps. We all met there around noon and broke up in groups of two for an afternoon hunt. Jason and I headed out of the camp and made our way to a couple of old roads that had always served me well, and when we got there, it was clear that the intel I had gotten and the opinion I had formed was grossly incorrect. From one PM to 6 PM, Jason and I saw twenty four birds and got seven. Many were multiples where we saw two groups of four in a flock. When we got back to camp that evening, the stories from the other guys were equally as exciting, with many of them getting their limits. That evening, I sat there wondering what the next day would bring, and was this just a one-time thing.

The next morning, I was joined by Ryan. We traveled a different loop and Ryan had his limit before eleven am. We headed back to camp, primarily because of an equipment malfunction. See, I had just purchased a brand new Stoger over and under 20 gauge that had performed very well the day before, but would not fire on this day. Thank goodness I had brought another shotgun. Well, after lunch at the camp, we headed out again and by three pm, I had my limit. We were seeing birds everywhere. To make matters worse, after we had limited out, we made our way back to camp over another one of my favorite bird roads, and within twenty minutes, we had seen ten more birds.

When the day was over, we took a count, and out of thirteen guys, and over two days, we had seen over two hundred birds and had shot close to one hundred. Yes, the result was far from the Intel I had gathered during the summer. The bottom line is that I had to see for myself what the season was going to be like and it was far different than what I had anticipated. I could not have imagined that there would be so many birds. We also saw young birds that had yet to develop tail feathers, and we were told that there was a definite second hatch.

But, as you might know, what you see one day may not be the same the next, and that held true when TC and I went again on Saturday. Our travels that day took us through the Fish River checkpoint in Portage across to the Reality Road, then over to Jack Mountain and finally to the Pinkham Rd. During that time, we only saw three birds. So, the bottom line is things don’t always remain the same. If you think you have it down, don’t be so sure, because it can change in an instant. Hmm! I wonder what it will be like the next time we go out.

Photos courtesy of Sherilyn Morris

Welcome Home RV  #60

The North Maine Woods has a number of sporting camps within its boundaries. Many are very well run and offer the perspective customer a chance to spend time, whether it be to fish, hunt or just relax and take in the scenery.

TC and I have decided to try to visit some of them, and when we found out that our youngest son was coming for a visit, we decided that the Deboullie area would be a good place to go. Now, Deboullie has a number of excellent trout ponds within the park, which is owned by the State of Maine. It also has an excellent sporting camp situated right on Island Pond. I have heard that the pond has always been a great place to fish. When we found out that our son, RV, was coming, we immediately decided to book a stay at Red River Camps. We contacted the owner, Jen Brophy via email and found that she was extremely quick to respond. Jen let us know that she did have availability on the day we were looking for and just that quickly, we were reserved. There are several plans that you can take while at the camps. The American plan allows you to take advantage of full meals while there, with Gloria doing all of the cooking in the main lodge. The Housekeeping plan allows you to do the cooking, while in the confines of your specific cabin.

On the day we were scheduled to drive in, we left our home and headed to Portage, ME where we entered the North Maine Woods via the fish river checkpoint. Once through, we took the Hewes Brook Rd. It wasn’t long before we came up on a Chevy pickup towing a boat and trailer. Shortly after, we ran smack dab into a dust bowl. Allow me to explain. On this day, they must have graded the road, because the dirt was very fine and powder dry. As we came to this stretch of the road, the truck in front of us, which was traveling at about 15 mph, made our travel miserable. We could not see one foot in front of us. Now, anyone who has traveled the woods roads, knows that a dry dusty dirt road can be very dangerous, not only because you can lose sight of the truck in front you, but from any oncoming trucks, including trucks loaded with as much tree length logs as they can load on. Fortunately, we did not meet any this day and we were able to keep track of the truck in front of us. Eventually, we came upon the road that we needed to take to get to Deboullie. We continued to follow the truck with boat in tow. Generally, the rules of the road indicate that when someone is following you and they seem to be faster than you, you pull over and let them pass you. But this guy would have none of it. He stayed in the middle of the road and just kept going. We followed him at about 15-20 miles per hour the entire way into the park until he finally took a left to go to where I thought he might go, Togue Pond. After we escaped the truck, the plan was to drive to the camps, check in and put our gear in the cabin, and then do some fishing at one of the ponds. As we drove into the camps, we were immediately met by Gloria. Gloria is the jack of all trades at the camps. She cleans the camps, cooks and just about everything else. She greeted us, and then took us inside where she let us know that we were going to stay in the cabin marked Denny. She also let us know that dinner was served at six pm. We also met Jen Brophy. Jen is a second generation owner, having purchased the camps from her mother and father. Once we had checked in, we drove up the hill to our cabin, and what we found was a very clean well maintained cabin with hot and cold running water as well as full bathroom facilities. We put our gear inside and then made our way to do a little fishing.  First, we decided that we would have lunch. TC had packed some food for us, so we made a group decision to go to Pushineer Pond to see if one of their campsites was available. When we got there, we found one and spread our things out and had lunch. When we finished our lunch, we packed up and headed over to Perch Pond. As we drove in, we noticed that there was a large party of people at one of the campsites. We stopped and were immediately greeted by several of them. Now, for any of you who know the Martin family from St. Francis, you know that these guys are in a class all their own. Lance Martin came over and we introduced ourselves and immediately everybody remembered everybody from past years. At one point, someone under the tarp yelled out to TC, hey, you went to school with me. Then to top it off, another one of the Martins let us know that his daughter had just gotten married to a young man who went to school in the engineering program at UMO. In this little world, after hearing the name of the man, our son piped up and said that this man had been his roommate during his first year at UMO. Then Lance let us know that they really rough it when they come to this campsite, which incidentally, they do every year on the same dates. In the camp was a generator and a refrigerator. That’s right, a refrigerator. Lance told us that last year, they had brought a freezer, but that did not work so well because it froze everything. Then he showed us a hand carved trophy of a fish with a few names on it and said it was awarded to the person who catches the biggest fish every year. He said that one year, someone brought up a big frozen fish they had caught and tried to pass it off as being caught at the outing. They said it took them a little while to figure out that it did not get caught there and that guy was disqualified. We also noticed that someone had a pontoon boat parked at the shore. Now, for all of you folks who don’t know about Perch Pond, if you pushed the boat out and got the motor up to ¼ speed, you would then need to power it down and find a way to turn it around. Said another way, the pond was far too small for the boat, but they said they were enjoying it anyway. We eventually had laughed enough and decided that it was time to move on and do some fishing. We made our way over to Upper Pond and had a real good day. My job on this trip was not to fish, but just paddle TC and RV around. I was kind of like a guide.

When we returned to Red River Camps that evening, we noticed that there were a lot of people there. Jen told us that she had eight cabins on the complex, and all were full. As we waited for the six o’clock hour, we sat on the deck of Denny and looked out at the complex and the spectacular view of Island Pond. Clearly, this was a place where you could come to relax and enjoy the fact that there were no phones or the hustle and bustle of the busy world. We eventually made our way to the main lodge and sat on the deck that overlooks the pond. Several more people showed up waiting for the bell to go off signifying that dinner was served. While waiting, we got to meet a couple from southern Maine that had just come to relax, hike, canoe and kayak. They told us that they generally take a week and vacation in Maine, usually at a sporting camp.. There was also another party comprised of a father and son. The father was from Maryland and the son, South Carolina. They had been coming to the camps for a number of years and I found their knowledge of the Deboullie area to be quite good. As we finished up our dinner, we heard some knocking at the sliding glass window next to our table. We looked over and found a group of ducks on the deck at the slider pecking away at the door to get in. We watched them for a few minutes and they never stopped their assault on that door until finally, Gloria went over to open it and shooed them away. Our final conversations that evening centered on trying to catch a few fish on Island pond before dark set in. So, we excused ourselves and headed back to the camp to get prepared. RV and I grabbed a canoe on the dock and headed out on the pond. Joining us in an adjacent canoe were the father and son. We fished until dark and only finally surrendered when the headlamp came out and we could not see for the black of night.

That evening, we slept remarkably well and arose to a beautiful clear morning with the water as calm as it could be. We found our way to breakfast which Gloria had made and then said our goodbyes and proceeded to fish two other ponds before we headed home. We rode over to Denny Pond and tried our luck there using sink tip lines. Denny is very clear, but also very deep and using the fish finder I have, I noticed that the fish were in the deeper parts of the pond. Galilee pond is a short walking distance away from Denny, and we all decided to take some time and hike into it.  We found it to be a very long narrow pond at the foot of a big rock ledge. Although we did not fish it this day, TC and I promised that we would come back and try it before the season was over. We then decided that we would drive over to Perch again, and this time, put our canoe in the water. We had a great time fishing it, but who we ran into as we were coming off the water bares discussion. As we came off, a truck pulled in with a boat in the back. As they drove in, we could hear the dogs in the truck making their presence known. The driver got out, with a Coors light in his hand and I instantly knew where he came from by his accent. If you have never been to the Allagash or spoken to someone from there, you just can’t appreciate how they talk. TC and I grew up in Fort Kent and we heard it all our lives, but have never gotten tired of it. Well, this gentleman had us laughing to tears in no time. He asked where we were from and when we told him, he said, you won’t catch me there, no sir. I don’t like driving in that much traffic.  When RV told him where he lived, which is outside of Boston, the conversation was even funnier. He said you’d have to put me in a net to go there. He also kept saying that Deboullie was the “Purtiest” place in the world, yes sir. Then he let the dogs out of the truck and what we saw were two little Yorkshire Terriers. This guy told us that they were the best fishermen in the group. They go in the boat, spot a fish and dive in grabbing it and then return to the boat. When we had laughed as much as we could, we decided that it was time to leave. When I turned back to look at them, I noticed the two dogs, paws up on the side of the boat looking down at the water. Maybe he was not telling a fib about their diving in. No, that can’t be.

Afternoon came and we made our way back home. We had really enjoyed our time at Red River camps and the whole Deboullie region. Jen and her whole gang had made us feel welcome and the atmosphere was outstanding.

Sunday came and RV had to head home. As we took him to the airport, there was a touch of sadness that he was leaving so soon. I always tell people to enjoy their family when they are young, because time passes quickly and they will be gone before you know it. But, I looked at the weekend this way, TC and I had gotten to spend some quality time with him and had been able to take advantage of our region and the Red River Camps. I expect that we will do this again, and the next time, maybe stay a little longer.

www.redrivercamps.com

As we get closer to November, and the upcoming bear referendum vote, I urge you, and all Maine voters to take a look at the Maine Department of Inland Fisheries website. They have added a page that talks about the referendum and have provided some excellent information. You can find the page using the URL below.

www.maine.gov/ifw/wildlife/species/mammals/2014BearReferendum.html

Deboullie

Every once in a while, you need to branch out or take a leap beyond normal and just plain go fishing at another location. And that is exactly what TC and I did. So, when TC said, why don’t you take the afternoon off and go fishing at Deboullie?  She did not have to ask twice.

Friday, when I got home from work, TC had all the equipment ready to load and was at the door waiting to take off. Now, for those of you who have not heard of the Deboullie Mountain region, you are really missing a wonderful area. Nestled in this area are some of the nicest clean, clear ponds and campsites that you will find anywhere. The land is owned and maintained by the State of Maine Parks and Recreation. Also, tucked in the parks confines is Red River Camps. These sporting camps have been there for some time and just simply are a vacationer’s paradise. Red River Camps, is however, for another blog so I will leave it where it is for now.

Deboullie Region is accessible through the North Maine Woods, from either Portage, Maine traveling up through the Fish River checkpoint and over the Hewes Brook Road, or from the Saint Francis, Maine checkpoint. The area includes a number of excellent trout fishing ponds and camping sites that are well maintained, with many sitting next to one of the ponds. There are also a number of hiking trails in the park that take you to spots where the scenery will take your breath away.

TC and I traveled up through Portage to Deboullie this day. Once in the friendly confines of the park, we headed straight for a pond that I last fished with TC’s father over ten years ago. At that time, we caught trout over 18 inches. Now, to access this pond, you need to carry your canoe a fair distance. I recalled a landing much closer that would get us on to the pond without having to carry too far. And that is where the day became interesting. When we first looked at the site, it appeared that there was enough water to paddle up into the pond. So, we put the canoe in the water and shoved off. That was mistake number one. We went a short ways and then the boat bottomed out, on mud, no less. And there we sat trying desperately to turn around and get back to shore. I was doing my best to get that boat to reverse course and TC was having fun at my expense. We would get it turned a bit and would hit more mud. Now, when I say mud, I mean the kind where when pushing the paddle in to get some sort of grip, it goes out of sight. Yes, it just keeps dropping with no end in sight. It reminded me of quick sand. Well, we moved and we pushed, and I knew there was no way for me to get out of the boat and physically turn it around, because down to the depths I would have gone. You know, like the Rambo movie where he comes up out of the mud, only I am not sure I would have been able to come up. As I labored to get that canoe to turn, TC was in the front having a grand old time. I knew she was trying her best, but I also knew she was laughing inside at me. When we finally got out and back to shore, the canoe looked like it had participated in a mud run and that is in fact what TC said. We had gone “mud canoeing”. Or as she implied, “doing a little red neck canoeing”.

Once back on dry, hard land, we pulled the canoe back onto the trail and decided that we would walk down to the landing zone and see if we could find any canoes already there. When we got there, a canoe awaited us and we put our gear in and off we went. The pond was as beautiful as I remembered it and the reflection of the rock face shined into the water. As we got on the pond, I looked across and saw a lone white tail deer on the shore. It appeared to be feeding. TC and I worked our way over as she fished and we got within 30 feet of her. She was content to feed on the grass by the water and although she kept us in sight, she seemed to understand that we were not going to harm her. We took a number of photos of her and then all of a sudden, she walked slowly into the woods and was gone. She reappeared later and continued to work the side of the water before she left for good. We fished the pond for a while and finally decided to head out. We replaced the canoe and took our gear back to the truck. Once we were packed, we decided to travel over to another pond in the park called Perch Pond and have our dinner. TC had brought spaghetti and homemade sauce and I had brought the Coleman stove. We fired it up and cooked the noodles and sauce and had a feast. Then we headed over to Pushineer Pond.  Pushineer has some very pretty campsites and generally is the most sought after area when campers come in. We just happened to find one that was empty and took the time to look at the beauty around us. We snapped a few photos and then decided to call it a day. We made our way to the Saint Francis checkpoint and then out to Fort Kent, where we stayed the night at TC’s dad’s place. We had to update him on our days fishing activities and at 89 years old, he was as sharp as ever letting me know that he was with me the last time we fished this pond and he caught some nice fish. He also remembered where the hole was and asked if I had found it. When I told him that I did not remember where it was, he let me know that his mind was still sharper than mine. The next day, we drove back into the park and decided that we would try another pond. We pulled the canoe off and loaded it and made our way out on the water. This time, we did not have to do any mud canoeing. We noticed the fish were jumping and it wasn’t long before I caught a nice 9 inch brook trout.TC had a few bites before the ominous clouds began to make their way over the mountains. Then all of a sudden the thunder cracked and we decided it was time to get off the water. Mother Nature gave us enough time to load our gear and canoe before the heavens opened up and the rain came beating down.  That rain continued to fall all the way back to Portage.

TC and I often remark that we lived so close to Deboullie all of our life, but never really took advantage of what it had to offer. We look back and say that it would have been a great place to take our boys and enjoy the real outdoors. We hope to make up for lost time and spend more time there in the future. And by the way, our youngest son will be flying in soon and we plan to spend time there, including a night at Red River Camps. That, my friends, will be the subject of my next blog, so stay tuned.

For more on the Deboullie area, visit this website:  

www.visitmaine.com/things-to-do/recreation-areas/deboullie-public-reserved-land/

www.maine.gov/dacf/parks/get_involved/planning_and_acquisition/management_plans/docs/Deboullie%20Brochure%20Color.pdf

One of the nicest ponds you will see 

A campsite view of Pushineer Pond