A look back at the 2013 fishing season #51

 As I look back upon the things TC and I did in 2013 and the places we visited, it truly was a great year for us.  I also had a couple of real memorable trips with friends that added to the enjoyment. I sat down and made a mental list of all the places we went and the things we did and here is a review of those times.

2013 started out with a trip to fourth Musquacook Lake and a couple of days with my friends Mark, Crandy and Kevin. We stayed with Jason and Sherri at their camp on the lake. Although the rain and cold temps hampered our fishing, we did catch some nice trout and just catching up with the group was enough for me.

Then while on a trip to Pennsylvania, I was fortunate enough to have won a brand new R. L Winston fly rod. When I finally got it, it was like a dream come true. The feel and responsiveness was amazing. Each time I went out, I made sure to bring it with me and when I hooked a fish, it was fun to watch the rods reaction.

Then there was the annual trip to the camp on the Pinkham Rd with a group of friends. Once again this year, Matt from Minnesota joined us and we spent a couple of days fishing different ponds. This year, Jeff joined us from Pennsylvania. Now Jeff has fished all over the United States. He mainly fishes in streams and had not really experienced any pond fishing. He caught on pretty fast with the only exception being that while paddling back to shore, he forgot to watch his rod, an R L Winston, and it got caught in the trees and the tip was snapped off.

TC and I made many a trip to the North Maine Woods during the fishing season. We made our way to Ragged Mountain Pond a couple of times and each time, we did very well. During one of those times, we were fortunate enough to share the pond with a couple of moose that, due to the hot weather seemed to find comfort in the cool water. It was really a nice site to see.  We also spent some time at Peaked Mountain Pond. For those of you who have not been there, it is a really nice place. The campsites are well maintained by the North Maine Woods staff and there is just something about the view of the pond late in the evening, and in the early morning.  The next pond we tried was Upper McNally Pond. We had never fished there but it will go down as one of the most memorable places we fished. That is because of the black flies that chased us around all the time we were there. I even remember putting the canoe back on the truck and looking around to see where TC was, only to find her already in the truck with the doors and windows closed. Then TC and I made a trip to the Deboulie Park region. That is located west of St Francis, Maine. The park is owned by the State of Maine and the number of fishing ponds within the park boundaries is unbelievable. There are also a number of excellent campsites right next to each pond, and many people spend time there not only fishing but just recreating. I had been there fishing a number of times, but TC had never fished there. So, I decided that we would try Upper Pond that day. Although we did not catch any large fish, we did have fun catching the smaller ones. TC tells me that she wants to go back and not only do some fishing, but also camp out. Looks like it is on the calendar for 2014. Then there was our favorite pond that we ventured to a number of times. Little Pleasant was by far our most visited place in 2013. During our fishing trips there, we were very fortunate to come out with some nice trout. Although the limit is one fish each, we didn’t mind. The fun that we had far outweighed the time it took to travel to the pond. It was also nice, from time to time, to hear the rumble of a float plane coming across the tree line and setting down on the water to drop off some sports from either Bradford Camps or Libby Camps, then turning into the wind and taking off again. But one of the things that stands out the most during one of our last trips to Little Pleasant, was that we made two new friends. Now, picture this. It was an absolutely dead calm day on the water with not a drop of wind. The pond was just like a mirror. All of a sudden, and I saw them coming out of the corner of my eye, were two big loons. As they swam toward us, the calm water showed the wake they were making. One of the loons was pretty vocal, continuing to make noises as it got closer. They stayed around us for most of the time we were there with the vocal one eventually swimming off to parts unknown. At one point the other loon was within 6 feet of our boat keeping a watchful eye on us as we fished. I have been told tales of fisherman hooking a fish and the loon diving down and taking their fish off the line, so I was as watchful of the loon as the loon was of me. Thankfully, we came to an understanding that if he behaved, I would as well and we could co-exist together, which we did.

Yes, 2013 was a really good year for fishing. I reflected on a couple of years back when TC decided to join me on my trips and she would just bring a book or magazine and sit in the bow of the boat as I fished. Fast forward to today when she is telling me that we need to go fishing and her enjoying each strike that she gets on her pole. One such time will always stick out for me. During the last trip to Little Pleasant, I had already caught my trout and was content to just watch the calm water for fish breaking up through. I noticed that there was one spot where this fish kept jumping. I quickly paddled TC over to that area and made sure that we kept our distance from the place where the fish was rising. TC whipped that line but just could not seem to reach the spot where the fish was. I remember her saying get me in there closer, and I telling her I didn’t want to get much closer for fear of spooking the fish. Then that fish made a grand jump and we could see that it was a nice one. All of a sudden, TC reared back and let the line fly and it landed dead center in the wake of where that fish jumped. In an instant, the fish took that fly and the look on TC’s face was priceless. It was one of those moments where you need a camera, but don’t have one handy.  She fought it and finally got it to the boat where we pulled it in. Yes, it was bigger than the fish I had caught, and yes, I did hear about it.

As 2014 begins, I find myself in my little area of the basement tying the flies that were so successful for us in 2013. I plan to have an ample supply and be prepared for when the ice goes out and TC says, let’s go. Oh by the way, TC also got a nice R. L Winston rod for Christmas. She tells me she can hardly wait for spring.

The Best Christmas Ever  #50

 Jimmi Clifford was not unlike any other 9 year old boy. He enjoyed hunting and fishing with his dad. He did not share the same sentiment about school, and unfortunately, that occasionally caused problems. Many days, Jimmi was in school, but had a pond or his dad’s favorite hunting grounds on his mind. So unfortunately the teacher’s directions and help did not get utilized. Now, when it came to fishing, Jimmi’s dad Billy had done a fine job of teaching him the art of using a fly pole. But Jimmi was living in a state that had a law which required all hunters to be 10 years old before they could carry a gun. Jimmi longed for the day when he reached that age. His dad would tell him that when he reached 10, he would buy him his own 30-30. Jimmi had shot a gun on a number of occasions while in the company of his father, and Billy had taught his son about the need for safety at all times. So, the only thing holding Jimmi back was his age.

Birthdays only come once each year and December 26, 2013 was when Jimmi was to turn 10. January 1 started the countdown and Jimmi could hardly wait. He had placed a calendar behind the door and drew a line through each day that passed. His dad kept telling him that he could hardly wait for December to come, and asked Jimmi if he was available to go hunting with him on December 26^th. At that, Jimmi asked his dad to come into his room. When they got there, Jimmi turned the calendar to the month of December and showed Billy that he had placed a big red circle around the 26^th. It was clear that he was anxiously waiting for that day. It was also clear that Billy was just as excited to know that his son and he would share a very special moment on that day.

February 2013 came, and a letter appeared at the Clifford home addressed to Billy. When Billy got home from work, he saw the return address and as he was reading it, his face dropped and his eyes began to tear. He had known all along that this day may come, but he was hoping that this would not be the year. See, Billy was a Lieutenant in the Army National Guard and the letter was his orders directing him to report for active duty to Afghanistan effective April 1. The letter went on to say that the tour of duty was to extend for 12 months. Billy was most worried about leaving his family, but he also knew that he would not be home on the 26^th of December and he felt like he was letting Jimmi down. All these years, they had planned for that date and now one letter had destroyed the dream they both had. He knew that Jimmi would be devastated. How did he tell a 9 year old boy that his dad was not going to be around to take him hunting as they had planned? Billy consulted with his wife and they decided to tell Jimmi that evening. When they sat down in the living room and Billy told Jimmi what had happened, he started to cry and got up saying “You were supposed to be there with me and you promised we would go hunting together. I waited a long time for this and now you are not going to be here for me”. At that, Jimmi stormed out of the room, ran to his bedroom and slammed the door. Billy felt awful and walked toward the bedroom and then turned at least six times before he decided to let it go for the night. It sufficed to say that no one in that house got any sleep that night.

April 1 came and Billy got up that morning knowing that it was the last time he would see his family for at least a year. He said his good byes, hugged his wife and then turned to Jimmi. With tears in his eyes, he told Jimmi that he would make it up to him when he returned and that he loved him more than anything. They hugged and Jimmi whispered in his dad’s ear that he would be waiting for him when he returned and they would go hunting then. At that, Billy left.

The months passed very slowly and from time to time, Jimmi would go down to the creek with rod in hand to do a little fishing. But somehow it just never felt the same as when he was with his dad. He had become the man of the house and had taken his responsibilities very seriously. He longed for the day when his dad would come home and although he had spoken to him a few times since he left, it was not the same. Jimmi became more inward and spent a lot of time in his room. Although he kept his school work up and his chores at home were getting done, he just wasn’t the same little boy.

December 24^th came and Jimmi was helping his mom prepare for Christmas day. He saw all the presents under the tree but none resembled what he wanted most, the 30-30 his dad had promised him. But he was also aware that his job was to be a big man for his mom and that was what he was going to do. When he went to bed that night, he sat alongside his bed and gave thanks for everything he had. He said he missed his dad and hoped he would be home soon. During his reflection, he never once mentioned the gun or hunting on Dec 26, although it was on his mind. That evening he was in bed early and fast asleep in no time.

He awoke the next morning, not with the same enthusiasm as in the past, and walked out to the living room where his mother was waiting. Jimmi unwrapped all the presents that he had under the tree and when he got done, he had no 30-30. With a tear in his eye, he hugged his mother and thanked her for everything. He told her that he was going out into the kitchen to get a drink and would be right back. When he returned, there happened to be another big box under the tree with his name on it. With a smile on her face, his mother encouraged him to open it which he did. When he pealed the paper off the present, a smile immediately came to his face and he shrieked with joy. There in the box was a shiny new 30-30 rifle with his name engraved on it. He turned to hug his mom and it was at that moment that he spotted his dad in the doorway to the living room. Jimmi ran to him and hugged him asking how he was he able to come home early? Billy told him that he had put in for a leave and that it had been granted. He told Jimmi that there was nothing more important to him then fulfilling his promise of the gun and taking Jimmi hunting on Dec 26^th and that was what they were going to do.

The next morning, they were both up bright and early and in the woods at the crack of dawn. They spent the whole day together, but unfortunately did not see any animals. That however did not matter to either of them. They had done what they had set out to do many years ago, and had done it together.

The week passed quickly, and before they knew it, it was time for Billy to go back. He said his good byes and they parted company. In a couple of months, Billy would be home for good and things would be back to normal. But for one week, a young boy had had the best Christmas ever. One that Jimmi or his dad would never forget. For Christmas is all about spending time with family. That is the greatest gift of all. TC and I wish you all a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. And to our military friends, Peace, and come home safe.

I stayed true to my commitment  #49

I have always enjoyed hunting. It has been a part of my makeup for as long as I can remember. Throughout my lifetime, the wildlife has been plentiful enough for me to have had a number of good productive hunts. I recognize that there are years when I just don’t succeed in my attempts to get a deer, but just being in the woods is as enjoyable as shooting that big buck. Now, it is of course, much better when that does occur.

Northern Maine has had a number of issues with keeping the white tail deer population up to acceptable standards. That included the two years where the heavy snowfall sharply cut the number of deer in the herd. Snowfall of over 200 inches for the year, without a doubt, causes a host of problems for the deer who are already hampered by other problems, all of which are outside of their control. Then there are years where the climate allows them to make a comeback and the season looks as though it is going to be good again.

Unfortunately, snowfall is outside of my or anyone else’s control. But there is another thing that we can control. One that has, in my mind, increased the rate at which the deer herd is dying.  I am speaking about the “coyote”. Now many will try to tell you that the animal is not the cause in the reduction of the herd. Some have stories about snowmobiling into a deer yard and seeing the dead deer carcasses strewn along the way. They report that coyotes are the culprit. Some will say that it is the ecosystem and how it should be. They also say that we should not interfere with the delicacy of that system, and TC and I firmly agree that balance is the key to keeping the natural world in check. However, all I know is that I decided a long time ago, that I believed coyotes were a threat to the deer population and I for one was going to take action if I had the chance.  I made a pact with myself that if I saw a coyote chasing a big buck, I would shoot the coyote. Now, I had never had the opportunity to test this, but I maintained that was what I would do.

So, let’s fast forward to November 16, 2013. I was on one of my hunting excursions in the North Maine Woods. I had scouted this area for some time and had seen a number of very fresh deer tracks even as recently as that morning. The area I was hunting had been cut a number of years ago and replanted with nice spruce trees. The trees had grown to about 3 feet high which made that area a prime location for deer.  I had found a nice spot to sit on a plateau that overlooked the entire cut. From that vantage point, I could see anything that moved for a long distance. I had made it a practice to walk through the cut to this location as early as I could and to sit and not move for long periods of time. On this particular day, I was there early and in place just after the sun came up. As was my custom, I had my doe bleat can out and ready as well as my buck call. I was working the bleat pretty hard that morning, giving it a shot a couple of times and then waiting for about 10 minutes and repeating the same. About forty minutes had passed and I had just completed my most recent cycle of the doe bleat when I looked out, and there about 55 yards away straight in front of me standing on a rise was a dastardly coyote. It was clear that that animal had heard my doe bleats and had come to see what was going on. As I watched it, the coyote was looking in my direction and looking to the left and right of me to see where that deer was. For some reason, maybe because I am such a master of invisibility, it did not see me. It was at that very minute that I had a decision to make. Should I raise my gun and take a shot at the coyote knowing that if I did, I would probably  end any chance I had at shooting a deer in that area? Or, would I remain true to my commitment that if I saw one, I would shoot it. In this particular case, only half of the commitment was true. There was a coyote in my hunting ground but it was not chasing a deer. It was clear however that it was here because it thought it heard a deer calling. I decided to pull my rifle up very slowly and take a look at it through the scope. It was facing me so there was not a lot of area to shoot at. I scoped it, put the rifle down and thought about losing the area if I made the shot. I pulled the gun back up and scoped it again. All the while, this animal did not move. Finally, the pact I made with myself won over and I pulled the gun up, put the dog in my sights, snapped off the safety and squeezed the trigger. The small profile of the animal helped it because I missed. I knew I missed because I saw the ground kick up just to the left of the animal. As I dropped the gun, I notice that the coyote turned to its right and hightailed out of there on a dead run. I had never seen an animal move so fast. In no time it was running through the three foot trees and was gone out of sight. As any good hunter would do, and knowing that I had contaminated my hunting area when I made that shot, I got up and walked over to where the coyote had been standing just to make sure I had not hit the animal. I was certain that dog was in the next time zone at that very minute. As I was walking out to my truck to relocate somewhere else, I replayed the scenario in my mind over and over. Should I have shot? Should I have not? And I came back to the same result. I had done what I had said I would do and I was proud of myself. In my mind, the coyote was a predator to our deer population and I wanted to give the deer that little fighting edge. Unfortunately, I did little to help, however I had tried and that was, for me, a win. Would I do it over? Heck, yes.

TC, the boys are coming!  #48

Looking back on the years, TC and I have been blessed to have two boys. Our goal was to hopefully give them all the tools they needed to be successful when the time came to leave the nest.  That included the tools to understand the woods and how to treat the animals that live there. I always taught them to only take what they needed and to abide by all the rules and laws that governed hunting and fishing.  We spent time fishing and learning how to handle a canoe. We spent time hunting and how important it was to make sure to respect the gun and others when hunting. We watched them grow up and we were very proud of them. So when the time came for them to start their own life, there was a void that was left by their departure. As parents, you are always aware that the time will come when they move on, but you just don’t plan for that time to come so quickly.

So, when they call and tell you that they both have some time off from work and want to come visit, you drop what you are doing, and prepare for their arrival. Now, the plan was for them to fly in and spend a couple of days in the woods hunting partridge. The scouting report on birds was up and down and by that I mean some were seeing them and some were not. No matter, the time spent with family is good enough, but getting to see some birds and having them shoot them was just the cream on top of the cake so to speak.

We set out that Friday morning, destination, Ashland and some old tote roads that I had been on a week before. At that time, I had seen a few birds and was in hopes that they might still show up. Before we got to the gate, we made a decision to instead travel down the Pinkham Rd toward Portage and hunt on some roads that branch off. It wasn’t long after taking one road which looked really good that we spotted our first bird. Like clockwork, the boys jumped out and went into hunting mode. With shotguns drawn, they stocked that bird and down it went.  We continued to ride that road, which appeared to go on and on. Eventually, we turned and headed back to try another one. Before we got to the Pinkham Rd, we decided to stop and cook some lunch. One of the highlights of our trip has been to cook a hot meal on the Coleman stove we have had for years. As we were pulling into the area we picked to have lunch, Ryan got out of the truck and started to walk back to the woods. It wasn’t long before he started yelling, Bird! Bird! And there it was trying to walk up the bank behind us. Like precision warriors, they both got their shotguns out and after that bird they went. In very quick order, they aimed, fired and down went the partridge. Now we had two. We finished lunch and drove a few more roads, but didn’t get any more birds. During our ride, Ryan yelled out, “there’s a really big moose!” Off in the cutting, was an enormous moose with a wide rack looking at us. We got out, took some photos and all of a sudden, the moose wandered off not really concerned that we were there. When we got home, we fried up the meat and had them as appetizers. TC and I held back so both Andrew and Ryan could have their fill, which they did. We laid out our plans for the next day and off to bed we went.

Saturday came, and we headed back to the North Maine Woods. Again, we had food for a hot meal and the trusty old Coleman stove. We spend pretty much all morning riding the roads and as we stopped for lunch, had not shot a bird. Now to give you some idea of what was on the menu? Saturday was tacos. TC had prepared everything the night before and all we needed to do was start up the stove and heat up the meat and the shells. If you have not had a hot meal in the woods, I can tell you that no matter what you bring, it will seem like it tastes better than if you had the same thing at home, and this was no exception. At the end, we had eaten just about everything and then moved on to the treats TC had made just before the boys got home. We put in some miles that day, and although we saw some partridge, we did not get any. As I was driving home, I noticed that both Andrew and Ryan had their eyes closed which reminded me of times past  when we would go in the woods and by the end of the day, they were just plain tuckered out. That to me was proof that they had had a good time.

Sunday came, and we knew that their plane was leaving and it would take them back to their homes and our home would once again be quiet. TC and I had so much anticipation and joy at knowing they were coming, but the time had flown by. As we took them to the airport, and they checked in, and we said our goodbyes, sadness gripped me and on the ride home I could tell that TC hated to see them go, because she was so quiet. But, we had had some quality time with our boys, and they had gone back to their roots which included their love for the outdoors. I guess there is some truth to the phrase, “You can take the boy away from his roots, but you can’t take the roots out of the boy. For TC and I, we just hope that they continue to enjoy all that the woods has to offer and to practice everything they have been taught. Watching them while they were here, I have no doubt that they have never forgotten that and practice it every day. That is just part of what makes a parent proud.

Time marches on!  #47

 When was the last time you heard the words, “Time passes too quickly?” Do you remember who it was that said it, and where you were when you last heard it? Did you acknowledge those words and what did it make you think of? Here’s another way to look at it. When was the last time that you had something scheduled and you really were looking forward to the day it came? After it had passed, did you find yourself saying that was really great, but where did the time go? I ask these questions, because it seems clear that every time I have an event, or I am looking forward to someone coming with me in the woods, it comes fast and when it is over, I can’t seem to understand where the time went.

Take for example my latest trip into the North Maine Woods. Almost a year ago and just after our 2012 bird hunting trip, I had a couple of my friends on that trip tell me that they wanted to come back in 2013. We decided to do it again and to use Chandler Lake Camps as our waypoint. We spoke with Jason and Sherry there at the camps and booked the date. During the time leading up to the trip, we swapped emails and decided how we were going to get there and what we were going to bring. At some point, I decided that it would be good for me to have my dad join us and an invite went out to him. He accepted and we finalized the plans. October 4 came very quickly and we all met and jumped into our vehicles and off to the woods we went. There was Lance and Jon and Steve and my dad, Bill. We decided that that first day was going to go like this. Dad and I would ride together. Lance and Jon would drive their truck in and then join up with Steve. We also agreed that we would meet around noon time at a predetermined location and have a hot lunch. I had brought my portable grill and some food in preparation for the noontime meal.

Now this trip was particularly exciting for me because Dad, who used to be a Maine Game Warden, had first begun his career on the Maine/Quebec border. His district consisted of some of the areas I planned to cover during our trip. He told me that he had not seen some of them in many years and was anxious to go back.

Over the next two days, we covered a lot of ground. In particular, we drove about 175 miles each day. Our travels took us to Clayton Lake where Dad brought me up to date on the changes there since his last visit as well as some of the things that remained the same. We visited Churchill Dam and we walked around, and took in the museum there. I could tell that just seeing the artifacts and photos as well as the new dam brought back memories to him. See, the dam was wood when he last knew of it and now it was all cement. We made our way to the Umsaskis Lake Warden Camp that he had not seen in years. His memories of that area were very interesting to listen to. He let me know that he helped build that camp. Unfortunately, it was locked and he was not able to go inside, but he spent a few minutes peeping through the windows to see the inside. He was quick to tell me that they had changed the roof but the inside was as it was the last time he had been there. He took me down the path at the warden camp to the shore of the lake and pointed out where the old David D Daigle camp had been situated and had been torn down. He even walked through the brush in an attempt to find anything he could in the old lot that would bring back some memories of that camp. Then we pressed on and eventually stopped and had lunch at the ranger station between Umsaskis and Long Lake.

At the end of each day, we would go back to Chandler Camps and meet up with the other three in our party to compare notes. During our two days, none of us broke any records for our limit of birds, but there were a number of stories shared about the day’s events. When Sunday came, we all knew that it was time to pack up, say our goodbyes and go back to our daily lives. We drove out of the North Maine Woods again very satisfied with the time spent there, the accommodations at Chandler Lake and the company we had kept during our trip. Yes, I could hear myself saying” Where did the time go.” It seemed like just yesterday that we had all met and were on our drive in. Time had not stood still and it was up to us to spend it wisely. You can never take away the times you have that you remember the most and the time spent with my dad learning about his adventures while a warden in that country during the late 50’s and early 60’s were priceless. I know that as I drive through these areas again, I will always recall the stories he told me.  He also shared his stories during the evening with the group and I was reminded that they thoroughly enjoyed his story time each night. As you could imagine, we took lots of photos, and they will all serve as a reminder of our trip, but one resonated with me more than the others. It was a photo taken by Lance of my dad standing up behind the supper table holding the back of the chair in front of him. When Lance sent the photo to me, he had already captioned it with the simple words “Story time.”  And his email that had the photo attached said, I could listen to him over and over. There was even some talk that he should consider writing a book about his trials and tribulations, but knowing dad, that will never happen. He is content to just share his stories with those around him. It’s kind of like a private viewing to those fortunate folks there at the time of his thirty six years in a warden uniform. Yes, the time went fast, but it was time I will never forget.

Jason & Sherry at Chandler Lake Camps preparing a gourmet meal.

My, What Fond Memories  #46

The other day, I was reminiscing about my younger years, and it made me stop and think about some of the adventures I had while growing up. Now, my dad was a Maine Game Warden and he began his career in Dacquam on the Quebec border. I confess, I was too young to remember, but he does show me pictures so it must have been true. He tells me that my first adventures as a fisherman were not the best. As a matter of fact, his story goes like this. He had some time off so he decided to go down and fish the river and he brought me along. While he was trying to catch fish, I was trying to preserve the fish population by throwing rocks into the water where his line was. It suffices to say that he did not bring me the next time he wanted to really bring some trout home.      

I also recall the time when he took me to Dead Brook fishing. We drove up and met the warden there, Phil Dumond and off we went. To fish this brook, you needed to wade in and cast into the water downstream. That didn’t seem very hard to me so off I went into the cold clear blue water with my pole. At some point, I decided that it would be nice to see for myself what was under the water I was wading in, and yes, I lost my footing and in I went. I was totally submerged in the water and like Rambo popping up out of the stream behind his attackers, and because the water was so cold, I quickly found my footing and jumped back up with my pole in hand. I was soaked from head to toe. I recall the ride home in those wet clothes and my father laughing at me as exhaustion set in and I went to sleep. The moral of this story is if you want to go swimming while you are fishing, bring an extra change of clothes.

 Then, there was the time when I came home from school during hunting season, and dad asked if I wanted to take a ride up the Sly Brook Rd in Soldier Pond to see if we could find any deer. It wasn’t long before we came to an old potato field and at the edge of that field by the tree line stood two nice deer. We both jumped out of the car and I took that 30-30 Dad had bought for me and pointed it at one of them, fired and down it went. The other one just stood there looking at me. In the heat of the moment, I decided that I was going to run down and claim my prize. And away I went with the only gun we had at the time in hand. I remember dad yelling to me “come back with that gun so I can shoot the other one.” I was about half way down the field when I decided I had better come back and give him the gun. When I did, and as he was aiming, that deer ran off as he took the shot. No, he did not get it and I bet you know that story has kind of haunted me for years.

Then there was the time when he and I decided to go deer hunting and we drove through St. Francis and Allagash toward what was then the Musquacook four corners gate in the North Maine Woods. It had just snowed that morning and the deer tracks were really showing up well. As we were traveling, I saw a real nice doe in the middle of the road. I jumped out of the truck, aimed and fired. The deer went down and we loaded it on the truck and onward we went. Shortly thereafter, dad spotted a real fresh track in the road, and told me he was going to take it. He left me in the truck and off he went. It wasn’t long before he walked out of the woods with a big smile on his face. He had shot a real nice buck and needed help to drag it out. As he told the story, he saw the buck running and brought the gun up against a tree and fired in front of it to accommodate for its movement. The bullet hit the deer and down it went. I mention this because as we got to the Musquacook gate, we met dad’s boss, Curtis Cooper. Now, anyone who knew Curtis would tell you that he was a gruff old guy who told you like it was. Curtis had been staying in the Umsaskis Lake warden camp all week on a hunting expedition. When we got to the gate, Curtis asked us if we had had any luck. We both pointed to the two deer in the back of the truck and I wish I could have taken a picture of his face. In his gruff tone and cleaning up his response a bit, he said, ****### I have been in here all week hunting and have not seen one deer. You leave home and shot two before lunch…… I never forgot that and every time I think about it, I find myself cracking a smile.

Yeah, things change over time, and we often forget about all the good times we had while growing up. All my early years spent in Fort Kent were special. My Facebook page has a place where many of my friends post fond memories of growing up there. There are examples like the old drive in, the Century Theatre, summers at Birch Haven, Mikes ice cream stand and Rock’s hot dogs to name a few.  Those all bring back fond memories, but, many of my special memories were with my dad who taught me about the woods. As I look back, times have changed, but I will never forget those special times. Thanks Dad

As I prepare for hunting season coming in just a few short days, Dad and I are going back into the woods for a couple of days. It has been some time since we have done so and I am looking forward to it. I also think he will enjoy seeing some of the old areas he used to patrol. Much of it has changed, I am sure, but the names remain the same. I know that as we drive through some of the spots, he will have a lot of stories to tell about the time he spent there and what he encountered. Yeah, time marches forward, but it is always good to stop for a minute and think about the good things from the past. They just might make you crack a smile.

Everybody in the Pool, the Water is Nice  #45

I know you have heard the words," just when I thought I had seen it all", but truly, this time I did say it. Maybe a small explanation may help you understand why I say what I say. Let me start from the beginning. TC and I decided that we were going to take an afternoon off and do a little fishing in the North Maine Woods. We packed up the Toyota and off we went. Our destination was one of two ponds spread out a bit, but equally as good. As we entered the confines of the woods, we quickly decided to go to Ragged Mountain Pond, because I was aware of the truck traffic on the Jack Mountain Road. Now, between the six mile gate and the Machias River Bridge, we met no less than four fully loaded trucks. Let me tell you that when you meet one of them, your heart finds its way up to your throat and your truck takes a very quick turn to the side of the road. That does not even take into account the dust that is following, and the minutes that feel like hours where you cannot see the road in front or in back of you due to the heavy dust the truck has kicked up. Most of the time you just hope that there is nothing coming behind or in front of you until the dust settles and you can see again.

Well, as I said, we made our mind up after the second truck that we were going to stay away from the Jack Mountain Road and go up the Pinkham Road, over to the Pelletier and Pelletier Road and up to Ragged Pond. Our travels went fine with the exception of one truck that we met and we eventually made it to our destination. We parked at the camp site and put the canoe in the water. We unpacked our gear and out we went. It wasn't long before we felt like we were being watched. You know, that eerie feeling that someone is watching your every move. As we looked to the left side of the pond, we noticed a female moose standing on the edge of the pond just as still as could be with her ears up and her gaze turned squarely upon us. I’ll call her Rita. Then out of thin air came another one to the edge of the water and she stood there as the first one entered the water. This one will be Louise. In the next hour, Rita went from the edge of the pond to the middle with much of her time being spent under water eating. All the while, she would come up for air and give us that gaze again. Now, Louise stood absolutely still for the whole time and kept watching us for her friend. At some point, I made the decision that Rita was making her way closer to us and I pulled up the anchor and moved away. Mind you, this pond is not very big, but there was enough room for us all, as long as TC and I stayed where we were and the moose stayed where she was. Eventually Rita made her way to shore and Louise decided to show us that she was more than a statue. Then, the roles reversed and Rita stood on shore and Louise entered the pool. This time, there was no feeding as Louise decided that she was just going to stand in the water and cool off. For over an hour, Louise stayed in one spot in the pool and did not move, again all the while keeping a close eye on TC and me. Now Rita decided that she was finally going to move and she made her way to our landing spot on shore. She stood sideways to the pond and there was no way that we were going to be able to land with her there. After another hour, Rita finally moved off and we lost sight of her. It was at that point that we decided to call it a day and we made our way to shore. As we came to the landing spot, we looked just inside the launching area and Rita jumped up from where she had been laying down and walked into the trail. Startled, TC and I got out of the boat with Rita no more than ten to twenty feet from us and we pulled the canoe on shore a bit. When we did that, Rita looked at us and off she went in a flash through the woods. Now all this time, Louise was still in the same spot in the pool.

As we packed up, and I went down to the water’s edge to get the rest of our gear, Louise was still there. She looked at me, snorted and did not move.

             TC and I had never seen anything like it. We will always remember that day as the time when we had to share the pool with two moose who had one thing on their mind, cooling down and feeding. And they could have cared less about us as long as we left them alone. As I left the pond, I took a few photos and said goodbye, and Louise looked at me and blurted out a loud snort. I took it as thanks for sharing the pool with us, they really appreciated it.

On another note, I was sent a photo of Sammy Kidder by his dad. Sammy has taken up fly fishing and he caught his first fish on a fly rod in the Magalloway River in Western Maine. Nice job Sammy and welcome to the club.