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.

Life just does not seem to be fair  #44

It often takes a life altering event to snap you back to reality and make you realize that little things really don’t matter. Those events can take any sort of shape or form, but when they happen, it makes you stop and think that you really don’t have it so bad.

This week, TC’s brother Andre Cyr passed after a long battle. Andre was a kind and gentle man who loved his family with all his heart. His dog, Two Spots was his companion; Andre seldom went anywhere unless he was at his side.  Andre would do anything for you and do it with a smile. No matter what was on his plate, he would push that aside to help you. He loved his daughter and son and spoke of them often. When he did, you could always detect a smile on his face and you had the sense that he was very proud of them.

TC and I visited Andre roughly a month ago. At that time, it was evident that his health was deteriorating and he knew it. But during our visit, Andre had that smile and engaged me on his latest best fly for catching fish. See, Andre was an outdoors man. He loved to hunt and fish, and he was very good at it. During our visit, he told me that the gray ghost was really working for him at Honeywell Lake in Saint John. He told me that he was having a real hard time finding them and he was almost out. I promised to tie him some and took a picture of the one he had so I could copy the pattern for him. Well, when I got home and looked at the material needed to tie the fly, I found that I did not have a lot of the things I needed. So, I quickly made an order. As I write this, the photo is still on my IPhone and the material is on my work bench.  I expect I will tie a few up and the next time I go to Honeywell, I plan to let one go on the water, just in case Andre needs it.

I also recall a hunting trip many years ago when I lived in Fort Kent. Andre and I set out for St. Francis to hunt deer. It was a nice morning and a dusting of snow had fallen earlier. As we got to First Pelletier Pond, Andre parked his truck and we got out. He told me about the lay of the land and where I should go and we split up for the day. Now, Andre’s knowledge and expertise of the woods and outdoor recreation was very admirable indeed. As an example, he was his own natural compass when hunting in the woods. His father, Rosaire, would always comment as to how remarkable he was with his compass, but he must have possessed great instincts too. He could maneuver around the woods like any wild animal. He knew where he needed to be and where he was at all times.   Anyway, it wasn’t too long before I came upon a nice buck track that took me all over the mountain and valley. At some point, as the sun was beginning to fade, I decided to track back to the truck. Well, mistake number one was that I was using a pin on bobber compass that had somehow stopped working.  Mistake number two, was that I did not have a replacement. I started back and came to what I thought was First Pelletier Pond. I thought that the truck was on the other side, so I began to make my way around the water. I quickly determined that it was not the same pond and that is when reality set in. I began to sweat and quickly decided to calm myself down. I knew Andre was somewhere in the area, so I let a few shots off thinking he would hear them and come to where I was. I sat down remembering that my training was to stay in one place. Well, it wasn’t long before I heard some stirring in the woods and through the trees came Andre. His first comment was to ask where the deer I had shot was, saying, I heard shots.  I quickly explained what had happened and he said ok, let’s go, it’s getting dark. He worked his way out of that area and guided us back to the truck in no time. After that, I never heard a word from him about that day and my misfortune. He just knew that I was ever indebted to him. Oh, and Andre always had a real interesting greeting when he talked to you. He would say, “Hey there feller.” If he was speaking to his nieces or nephews, he would address them as “Hey there young feller.”   Those sayings and his voice are ringing through my mind right now.

Andre was also the king of the scratch tickets. Each Christmas, we would all gather at the Cyr home where all the family members, spouses and grandchildren would spread love and cheer. As the gifts were being handed out, Andre would get up and give each nuclear family member a Christmas card envelope. That envelope was full of scratch tickets. He loved doing that and was always around while you checked them out to see if you won. If you did, he would beam from ear to ear with pleasure. If for some reason, you were not able to make it, when you did get there, you knew that there was an envelope waiting for you with your name on it.

Andre does not need a compass anymore. He does not need guides or a waypoint either. TC and I keep comfort that he is in a far better place where there is no more sickness and hurt. He probably has his fishing pole out and is not far away from wetting his hook. Andre, I will get that fly tied for you and know that we love you and will miss you. May you now rest in peace, feller.

No Outside Intervention Needed  #43

How many of you remember the slogan, “Maine, the way life should be.” I believe that was a saying the Maine Tourism Bureau used to attract people to enjoy our great state.  I am a Mainer through and through. I was born here, I was raised here and I chose to live here because of all the things available to me. Back when I was younger, I learned to hunt and fish and enjoyed every minute of it. I was taught at an early age to only take what you need and do not take any more. Obey the laws and understand that they are put in place for a reason. We also always heard, “preserve for others in years to come.”  I recall a Maine Inland Fisheries and Wildlife poster, that incidentally I still have, that shows a fisherman with a whole mess of fish and a young boy standing next to him saying, “Gee Mister, will there be any left for me?” As a sportsman, it is my responsibility to protect the resources for people in years to come. I always put my trust in people who assess our wildlife and determine the best way to make sure that the balance is appropriate. Maine employs a number of biologists and they are responsible to provide solid information and evidence as to how that can be done. Although, I don’t always agree with them, their track record has been pretty darn solid.

So, it really irks me when I hear that someone or some group, most often not even from Maine, is trying to tell us how we should do things. Some of these people come to Maine and have a huge capital backing from outside influences that have a set agenda and their job is to change our state to conform to their beliefs. You could say their theme is, “Maine, the way we think it should be.” They don’t listen to the biologists or the people in Maine that have been close to the ground on these issues, no sire re Bob, they just have an agenda and they don’t care to understand anything but what they believe is best for them.

In the coming months, I have no doubt that you will see a lot of information on the television, mail and newsprint supporting one of their causes.  Back in 2003, they did the same thing and the people of Maine saw through it and voted it down. I’m speaking about the Maine Black Bear and the attempt to stop the hunting of them. They will tell you that they support the humane hunting of these animals, but their definition of humane hunting will do little to help keep the population down. The Maine Inland Fisheries and Wildlife Department estimates that there are currently 30,000 bears in the Maine Woods. Hunting them like you hunt other animals will not help. Bears are elusive animals, and if you see a bear, it is for a very short period of time and they are usually on the run to get out of there. They have a very keen smell and know when you are around. When was the last time you were walking through the woods and saw a bear standing there looking at you? Or when was the last time you were driving down the road and saw a bear and it stood there while you got out and took photos. Although that does occasionally happen, I would submit that it does not happen frequently enough. The Maine Department of Inland Fisheries and Wildlife Department maintains that if we do not keep the bear population in check, we will have what we call great unforeseen consequences. Bear will continue to populate and their need for food will drive them into populated communities. That, my friends is not good.

So, if you are asked to sign a petition to put the bear referendum back on the ballot this fall, think long and hard before you do so. If they are successful in getting their agenda passed, I am very concerned about what will come next. Will they move to stop hunting and fishing altogether? Will they take away the freedoms we have had in Maine forever?  Do you believe they know more about wildlife habitat and how best to protect that for future generations than the people who do it for a living? Ask yourself, have they ever spent any time in the woods themselves? Will they try to change the great Maine heritage and the way life has been for many years before them?

There is also one more part of this that deserves to be brought up. If you talk to many of the sporting camp owners, they will tell you that one of their best seasons, monetarily, is bear season. Although that season does not take a very big number of bears each year, it does help the economy and our sporting camp industry.

Let’s let Mainers that know about the woods and the animal population decide how best to keep the population in check and not out of state interests with deep pockets. Don’t succumb to the ads that will run because much of the content in those ads cannot be substantiated. They will try to play on your emotions and tell you that they know what is best for us Mainers.  Let’s tell them that we are Mainers and we know what is best for our state, and we don’t need any outside help, thank you. Let’s preserve the way Maine should be. I like it just the way it is, no outside help needed.

Here is a metric from the SAM website.

In the last ten years, the black bear population has increased by 67% to over 30,000 bears. Just last year nuisance bear complaints increased from 396 in 2011 to 828 in 2012.  To read the entire article, you can check out the Sportsmans Alliance of Maine website by going to: www.sportsmansallianceofmaine.org