Papaw’s axe

I replaced the handle on my grandfather’s old axe today. It was loose when I used it last week. I steamed it to tightness and got my tree cut, but chopping made it shake loose again: a handle fracture was hidden inside the head. One doesn’t see many double- bit axes in use these days, but they are still available in hardware stores… I saw them when shopping for a new handle. I don’t know how long this axe has been around, but I recall that 50 years ago, it was already old and well- used. Papaw logged the Tunica Hills with hand tools and oxen when he was young, and this axe could date from that time.

Yep, winter must be over

It’s awfully warm to be hunting today, and rain is forecast for tonight and tomorrow. The mosquitoes have come out again, and they’re hungry! These mosquitoes are our more familiar variety, just bothersome at dawn and dusk, and staying in the bushes. Those terrible marsh mosquitoes that had blown in here would run you all around in the open, regardless of wind, and in broad daylight.

Is winter over, now?

It sprinkled rain last night, only got down to 38 degrees this morning, and it has warmed up considerably during the day. These big white- oak acorns are favorites in the deer diet; I found them along Panther Creek. The creek bank was torn up with hoof- prints of deer, but no deer showed up while I was sneaking around here trying to ambush one. I thought this cold weather and the moon phase would come together to stir the juices in those old bucks, but it hasn’t happened. We are seeing some deer signs, a few rubs, scrapes, and tracks, but the deer are moving at night.

Fetching water

I didn’t bring enough drinking water, so I was visiting Panther Creek regularly to fill canteens. This lovely little pool looked inviting but, after a 15- degree morning, skinny- dipping was out of the question. My rain- barrel had been topped with thick ice… I couldn’t break through with a stick.

I hope this rids us of mosquitoes!

I slept pretty well, and was glad to have the thermal underwear. It was 30 degrees in the cabin when I woke up. I lit the heater, started some coffee and rolled back over and convinced myself that those deer were too smart to get out of their beds when it’s that cold. They’d like to lounge around, so that’s what I did, too. The heater got the cabin up to 50 degrees and I was so comfortable that I made another cup of coffee and listened to the radio for a while. When I worked up enough courage to get outside, I found that it was a beautiful morning: the temperature was 28; it was fair and sunny, with very slight breezes. This weather was pleasant, and was a far cry from a Friday, December 8, that I remember twenty- eight years ago…that one was cold and breezy and wet, and still drizzling rain.

A cold night is coming!

I found some fresh rubs on the creek trail, where Hickory Ridge begins; hunting there this afternoon, the wind was gusting constantly, bringing in a mighty cold blast of air soon. No critters out; the birds and squirrels must be hunkered down. Most of the leaves are on the ground now; it’s like walking on cornflakes. As the sun set, it was still windy and the temperature was dropping. It was 40 degrees inside, when I shucked my pack in the cabin. My double- mantle lantern broke the chill and nudged the temperature up to 50, but it was still dropping outside. I forgot to bring my warm mummy- bag; at bedtime I donned long- johns, watch cap and socks and crawled into my old rectangular sleeping bag. That bag is getting pretty thin in spots, but it is roomy and comfortable and is just the right weight most of the year. I’m sentimental about the old fart- sack; I ordered it from Herter’s about 40 years ago. That was the first I had heard of Polar-Guard insulation and, like all of Herter’s products it was described as the best and biggest and “finest procurable”. I must admit that I still use it often, and it has been with me from Gulf sands to above timber- line and everywhere in- between.

Improving the woodlands

Over the years the higher- grade sawtimber has been harvested from our place, leaving too many large, poor- quality trees. In an effort to begin correcting that situation, we cropped it closely, about 15 years ago. Now that the overstory is again shading out the ground cover, I have begun ringing or removing some of the inferior trees. I plan to continue this in a rotation of small areas scattered through the forest. My intention is to promote growth of the young timber crop, by relieving its competition from the larger, inferior trees. Those old trees have no value as sawtimber, and very little worth as hardwood pulp. That timber will need another 15 to 20 years to mature, so it might not benefit me, but will be valuable to the next generation. Opening the overstory in spots will allow "islands" of undergrowth to develop, providing prime wildlife habitat in addition to timber improvement. I had been waiting for cool weather, and for gun season, so now I have started on another long- procrastinated project.

Gun season opens for deer

This is always something of a disappointment to me. I hunt with “real guns” too, but gun season puts much noise, activity, and hunting pressure into the woods. Generally, gun season lessons my odds of success at bowhunting, detracts from my wildlife watching and diminishes my enjoyment of the overall experience outdoors. Today I did well, however. I saw lots of chipmunks and birds around. Hawks were hunting in the trees nearby, and I saw two light- colored, medium- sized “somethings” run by… maybe those coyotes that have been waking me at night? After legal shooting time ended, I was packing my gear and saw movement that must have been deer feeding, Unfortunately, it had gotten too dark to be sure.

Keep your powder dry!

I took my smoke- pole out again, hunting morning and evening, with a midday work- period. That’s the way to do things: play all day, with a little work thrown in as an afterthought. Nobody saw deer; I guess they just weren’t moving. I hunkered down on the side of Hickory Ridge, watching that flat along the creek. I saw no deer but thought I smelled one, about 5 pm. It was a good weekend for other critters, though. Coyotes howling woke me again last night. I saw quite a bit of armadillo diggin's scattered around. Flights of geese were coming over and I could hear their calls. It thrills me to hear those geese, but I must admit, it gives me a cold and lonesome feeling, too.

Muzzle- loader season

I enjoy shooting black powder, although I have not hunted much with my muzzle- loaders. These are the guns of my ancestors… several generations back. They would be surprised and enthusiastic at some of the advances in their “primitive weapons”, but they wouldn’t even recognize some of the “muzzle- loaders” popular with today’s hunters. This little rifle is billed as a Hawken- type, but it is not very authentic to the guns of the plainsmen. The barrel is not quite as thick and is nearly a foot too short. The lock mechanism has modern coil- springs, instead of the old leaf- type springs. I’m still shooting black powder, but now you can substitute gunpowders which make much less smoke and are less corrosive. These things even come in pre- measured pellets that you just drop into your gun. I’m also still shooting patched round balls, but now you can get a wide variety of projectiles. Most of these don’t need patching, they have thin lead or plastic bases which expand into the rifling. Some of these deliver modern, high- tech bullets downrange. I guess I’m conservative; maybe it’s sentimental. But I just don’t understand the attraction of those bolt- action muzzle- loaders with telescopic sights, propelling saboted soft- point pistol bullets with Pyrodex pellets, ignited by shotgun primers. For me, such things seem to miss the point of a “primitive weapons” hunt. No thanks, not for me, but those guys help to support the wildlife and the hunting opportunities, and I am grateful for the chance to go afield and follow my own whims.

These cold- fronts make me lazy

It rained Wednesday night and was still drizzly Thursday morning; I turned off the alarm and stayed warm in my fart- sack. I puttered around camp, rather than venture onto those slippery hills. The sun finally came out about 8 am and the water ran off, so I braved it to go up Hickory Ridge and check my phone messages. I topped- out at the old wild- plum tree and that East wind was chilly. Taller “mountains” on the place are less exposed, but are more difficult to reach. The plum tree has 194 ft. elevation by GPS

Cold and breezy Friday morning, again. I hiked to the far end of the place. No critters were moving, the ravines have eroded some more back there, and that area has grown quite a thicket of cane and briars. A few birds and chipmunks started bustling around, once it warmed up. I couldn’t stay and play, however, I had to pack up and get back to town.

Acorns falling?

I’m working on marking the property line through the woods. There is some rough territory at the back end of the place. My grandfather said that land’s only use was for holding the world together. I walked up a deer at the far end of Creek Cottage… a fair- sized one, looked like, but I couldn’t tell much with the undergrowth and distance. I noted some deer sign associated with acorns on the ground. Perhaps an acorn- fall is beginning to attract them, now. The mosquitoes have gotten bad, since recent rains and the warming trend. I had been enjoying their absence.

Camp Chores

Happy Halloween

I hunted Tuesday morning in that flat between Hickory Ridge and the creek. A small deer ducked out hurriedly when I had just finished setting up and, later, I thought I smelled one- smelled like a buck. Squirrels were busy, and their activities always entertain me.

Coyotes woke me during the night with their howling and carrying- on… it is Halloween… about midnight… I hope it was coyotes!

It feels like Autumn

I slept in Monday morning. It was cold and pretty this morning, and very pleasant to lie in a sleeping bag and sip coffee. I worked at camp chores, sweeping out mud and leaves, and weeding my little garden plot. The bugs are eating up my mustard greens. I did hunt the field this afternoon; I was forced to the far end, to take advantage of the East wind. They came out about 4 pm. The old doe had two fawns- one had spots that I could still see, but they were almost faded away. The fawns were old enough to be on their own, but I passed on the “momma- deer”. Maybe she was a bit too far, anyway; and this was near that buck’s scrape. I didn’t notice when the three deer left, but they browsed around the clearing at least two hours. After sundown, another deer slipped up on the downwind side of me and snorted; maybe the buck came to check his scrape; I never would have expected him to get into that downwind position where there was only a steep bluff. I guess he knew his business better than I.

Back home in the woods

It was late when I got back to camp on Sunday... near midnight. I woke to a beautiful Monday morning, cool, clear, still. Alexandria weather had it as thirty- seven degrees… geography determines what radio stations you listen to in the Tunica Hills. A buck worked the scrape last night, at the far end of the field. Interesting that a scrape turns up at that exact spot every year. I couldn’t make out a distinct track for size; rubbings nearby were on small saplings, but he really tore them up. It has taken most of a month, but I am finally learning to walk in the woods with these glasses. I had a little trouble with them fogging, so I guess there is a learning curve in dealing with that aspect, also. I found several fresh tracks and droppings of various size under my pecan tree. I’m glad to share the pecans; guess I should fertilize and clear around some more pecan trees.

Headed to the field again in the afternoon and was late getting there, about 4:15, or so. There was a big deer in the clearing, far off, but I think it was a doe. She was pretty, still in her red- colored summer coat. She saw me and ducked into the woods. The sun set about 5:30 and it quickly got dark in the creek- bottom. I heard, but couldn’t see a deer moving in there. When I left my stand, a deer hopped out of the field, between me and the camp; that other one had never come back out.

Nooning on Hickory Ridge

This high spot on Hickory Ridge is the nearest place to my cabin I can get a cell phone signal. The small flat area would make a good campsite for one or two tents, but I've never spent the night in this particular place. There are nice downhill views all around. I often go there to make coffee, check messages, and get a little midday rest.

Papaw’s fence

This little piece of fence brings up fond memories of my grandfather. It’s one of the few vestiges left, but I don’t treat it as a shrine. I just smile at the memories when I see it. That fence post enjoyed its first incarnation as bridge planking. It has a coating of asphalt with gravel imbedded. My grandfather worked for the highway at some point, and occasionally scavenged and recycled such cast- off materials. In those days before the “Stock Law” the whole area was open range, and livestock wandered everywhere. Folks fenced the livestock out of their fields to protect the crops they were growing. Couple of times per year the neighbors would gather with hired help, and have roundups.

A somewhat humorous side note: my grandmother went to her grave, a half- century later, still angry that her husband was required to pay for having that highway job.

More close encounters

It was uncomfortably warm and humid, so I hunted a short time, early, and went on to some chores I needed to do. I continued picking up pecans under my little tree; I’d get another handful every time I passed nearby. I get as much reward from growing things as I do from hunting and fishing. Maybe it’s all in the same primal instinct. I went back to the field in the late afternoon, to see whether that big doe might come back; she might even bring some friends along. I watched the thickets and approaches until sunset, then moved to the edge so I could watch the clearing. There was the doe, feeding in the field again. With a favorable wind, I started a stalk. Unfortunately, that field edge was a tangle of limb, leaves, and vines. It was impossible to get through that stuff quietly, and it was getting too late to go a long way around and approach from another direction. So I just moved to a vantage point at the edge and hunkered down to watch. The doe was still in the clearing and another, smaller doe had joined her. The old doe was suspicious of me; probably had heard my movements in the thick stuff. She kept feeding toward me, occasionally raising her head and swiveling those ears to check out my position. The smaller deer was coming along, too. I sat tight and she fed her way abreast of my hiding spot. It was past legal hunting time and was getting too dark for a reasonable shot, but I didn’t want to alert her by moving out. I hoped to sneak away without giving away my presence. The old doe must have seen me or some freak air current may have taken my scent to her. She snorted once and both deer made a hasty exit down the field. Hiking back to camp, I heard coyotes again; this morning there had been quite a yelping, yowling, howling chorus.

A misty, moisty morning,,,

A rainy day, it finally brightened up some in the late afternoon, but continued to be misty and windy. I went over to pick up a few more pecans and poked around the edges of the field. I found some fresh deer sign and peeked out into the opening to see a good doe feeding in the clearing. She seemed oblivious to the wind and rain. She may have seen or heard me, because she was looking my way. The wind was wrong for me to try stalking closer, so I ducked back into the bushes to sneak away without disturbing her.

A little rain, finally

There was a patter of light rain most of the night on my tin roof. It was drizzly, windy, and overcast, and not much was moving in the woods. The creek was not up; there was barely enough rain to muddy it. My cabin certainly is peaceful when the shift- change traffic is absent from the highway, the camp guests have gone home, and the prison rodeo is over for the week.

Thunder in the woods

There were squirrel hunters all around this morning, so I didn’t go in the thickets, just worked on some trail maintenance and finished sorting my gear. There appears to be a good crop of pecans under that little tree I cleaned up and fertilized in the field.

Armadillo attack

I heard him long before I saw him. It amazes me how much noise an armadillo can make. They are built like a tank and just go crashing their way through life, it seems. Their skeletal structure is heavy and well reinforced, and that tough shell provides a coat of armour. Since the sprinkle of rain yesterday, food may have become more plentiful and he was out foraging. He was plowing along, with his snout and head under the dry leaves, scouring that hillside for something to eat. Eventually, he headed my direction. I was sitting on the ground, watching the squirrels play and hoping to see a deer, and he kept coming directly toward me. It made me nervous, he was way up the hill and making a beeline straight toward me. Well, armadillos don't bite that I know of, but they do have long sharp claws mounted on powerful forelimbs. There also have been some instances of them carrying leprosy. They don't see well and don't respond to shouting, and he kept coming at me. Finally, I reached out with an arrow and tapped him, lightly and then more vigorously... didn't faze him; he just kept coming! So, just before he started rooting against my leg, I put my hand on his back and pinned him down to the ground. He didn't like that treatment very much. He squirmed and wiggled and bucked and arched his back, and when I let up, he reversed directions and hurried off to do his armadillo- things elsewhere.

Simple pleasures for simple minds: playing with caterpillars

Ah, retirement. I found a pretty caterpillar close to the cabin and took the time to look him over.

Death of an old friend

The big old beech tree where I always liked to camp has finally fallen. It was a nice, flat, shady spot, close to water and just off the trail. If it rained, the joke was on me, because all of those beech leaves held enough water, that it continued to drip for hours after the rain had ended. The tree has been dead for some time, with shelf fungi scattered around its trunk. It was damaged somehow in the last logging operations. There was a broken winch cable under the old tree, so I suspect they may have winched or tied off to it and injured the roots. It was not a good timber- quality tree, but I had a sentimental attachment. The old tree held onto life for a long time and now it “lies in state” for passers- by on the trail to view.

Burrowing nymph

I often see these little trails on the creek banks and marvel that something is crawling around in that sand and silt, and making a living at it. One time, I had to dig one out, to see what kind of critter was responsible. I assumed it was a bug and, sure enough, it was an ugly, creepy- looking larva. I guessed it was a dragonfly nymph of some sort.

Night music

It was a week of night sounds in the woods. One night I was even serenaded by a bunch of coyotes. There were owls every night, and a variety of them, too. One night I listened to a screech owl… I particularly like those guys, diminutive in size and not very loud. On the other extreme, the great horned owls were hooting their deep-pitched query, “who, who- who- who. Everyone’s favorite, the barred owl, was pitching in his “who cooks for you”. There was another one, too. I’ve heard him before, but can’t put a name to him… maybe I need to google for an identification.

Pottery shard

I occasionally find fragments of pottery in the creek. There must have been many Indians living here, over a long period of time. Larger pieces are rare… seems I read somewhere that damaged pots had to be broken up to release their spirit before they could be discarded. Styles and compositions vary; most is plain, utilitarian- looking.

My new backpack came in!

I wound the week up with a flourish

I had to go back to town after this morning’s hunt, so I knew I must make the best of it. I set up beside a tree in that flat between Hickory Ridge and the creek. The weather was warmer and damper this morning. There was more dew, and the leaves under foot were not as crunchy as they had been. I was daydreaming about how well my new glasses were performing in the field, when I saw movement in the distance. These things really help with picking out detail and avoiding eyestrain. I eased up to and got my bow into shooting position, The deer had materialized by this time, a good – sized, mature doe. I would take this one with no qualms. This was a textbook example; it all came together perfectly. I sighted the deer from a distance, and it never saw me. She came in to about 20 yards, perfect range, and stopped broadside. I came to full draw, aimed, and released a perfect shot. Somewhere between me and the deer, however, there was a vine that I hadn’t seen. The arrow struck it with a loud THWACK! The deer reared back her head, her eyes wide, and she bounded away, leaving a shadowy likeness to dissipate where she had been standing [just like in the cartoons]. I walked the arrow’s path and picked it up, lying on the ground. One blade showed obvious evidence of the vine’s impact. Thankful that I hadn’t had a long and difficult search to account for that arrow, I stowed it in my quiver and headed back to break camp. Some of my most cherished memories are the ones that got away, and this will be one of those. It all came together just right. What if that vine….

Well, I missed. A vine deflected my arrow. [original post by: Cingular Wireless Messaging
http://www.CingularMe.COM/]

What a glorious morning!

It was cool and still, with blue skies and sunshine. I ambled along Panther Creek to the far corner of the place and saw some scattered deer tracks; only one spot seemed to be a regularly- used trail. I filled my canteen and dropped in one of those chlorine tablets (for more on those, link to CampDaddy’s Page). I drank from that little creek for years, but I fear it is no longer pristine. There is now public access through the Wildlife Management Area, and I sometimes find bits of litter in it.

Seeing lots of squirrels, real close. I was very nervous about the one that was on the opposite side of the tree from me. He was purring just like a cat, but it didn't sound very friendly. Turkeys came feeding along Panther Creek andwalked all around me. Perhaps these were part of that flock I previously saw crossing the big creek. Have only seen 2 deer, my supposed quarry.

At that far, back corner of the place there is a hairpin bend in Panther Creek, around a little finger ridge. That is a spot I have always wanted to camp. It is flat on top, and is surrounded by steep inclines on three sides, down to the creek bed. I sat long, enjoying it there with the birds singing and the breeze sighing in the trees. I wished I had remembered my GORP, it was too early for lunch and I needed a snack.

Since I hadn’t found specific feeding areas, I would try to hunt along paths to water. Hiking to my afternoon stand with that in mind, I heard a deer move out ahead of me… maybe things were getting better. After what seemed a very long wait, I heard a slight rattle of leaves and watched a deer come up the ridge from the creek… maybe this idea of hunting the watering areas was the ticket! It was a doe, about a yearling- size, I’d guess. The wind was in my favor; I had planned it that way. After a full week in the woods, with poor luck in just seeing deer, maybe I shouldn’t be choosy; I’d try a shot. She was browsing along, nipping here and there at some low- growing green leaves. I had to turn and get into shooting form, with only rare instances when her vision was blocked. I was fearful she might hear my heart pounding! I began drawing the bow when she was approaching a clear spot. She was in range, less than 20 yards. The shot angle was right. Before I reached full draw, my elbow hit the tree trunk I was hunkered against. I must have made some small sound or movement that she detected, because she made one quick hop over the side of the ridge and the opportunity was gone. About 30 seconds later (it seemed a lot longer) she stood out of sight and snorted repeatedly, as if laughing at me. [original post: Cingular Wireless Messaging http://www.CingularMe.COM/]

Still searching... and enjoying every minute of it

I’ve been seeing many wrens. That’s a delightful little bird with a large voice. These haven’t been singing, though: they were busy hunting. I wondered whether they are still feeding one last brood of chicks, are they preparing for the change of seasons, or has food scarcity with the dry weather necessitated more hunting effort. I had noted the absence of armadillos; they usually rummage around the forest duff and their noise kept me constantly on edge when watching for deer. I eventually saw some recent armadillo diggings: not fresh, but since the last rain. Searching for deer sign, I located some trails in the creek bed. Not many were crossing, though; travel was along the creek. I saw a deer Tuesday and heard and heard another. Nothing Wednesday; I stayed until full dark. [original post: Brought to you by, Cingular Wireless Messaging
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Opening the archery deer season

Hi all; original post by cell phone fromHickory Ridge. Woods are pretty; seeing no deer but much squirrel activity.

It was a pretty morning for opening day of the archery deer season. The skies were blue and the winds calm. Nephew and his friend who came to hunt said they had been through some dense fog. No fog here though, and no dew; it was dry and noisy to walk. I had little choice, though; I had done no pre-season scouting. I got impatient on my hastily- chosen stand, breakfasted on GORP and came out of the woods about 9 am, having seen lots of squirrels and no deer. I planted some mustard greens near the cabin, in the area I had tilled yesterday… more dependable to grow, rather than hunt for food. By 10:30, it was already hot. In my rounds, I couldn’t find evidence of what the deer were feeding on and I saw no heavily traveled trails. I was noticing the timber stand as I went, too. There are many poor trees and snags that need to be thinned so the younger stuff can come on. It’s too hot now… maybe as it cools down. I was pleased to find that I can now get a cell phone signal from the top of Hickory ridge. I was even able to post to my blog and tell the world that I am safe, if not very successful. I noted that I had seen no armadillos or evidence of their digging. That is mighty unusual for this time of year. And no mosquitoes, ticks, or gnats, either. I won’t complain about their absence. After a mid- day rest at the cabin, I slipped back to the woods. I checked around the scattered French mulberry, but the deer didn’t seem to be nipping at that. I still wasn’t finding obvious feeding areas, but located some possible watering spots. A couple of times, I heard deer move out ahead of me. The second morning started cooler and warmed quickly. I continued scouting and found most deer sign along the creeks. It’s very dry in the woods, and they have to go to water; so I should hunt along trails to water. As I worked my way back toward camp, I saw a deer on the creek bank. Unfortunately, it saw me first and dashed away, waving that white flag.

Today is the first day of the rest of my life

Well, it really doesn't feel much different to be retired. The coffee is good, the weather is nice but I can't take much time to savor it. I must whittle down my to- do list, so I can be on my way to the woods. I'm ill- prepared; wish I could have packed sooner. But then, there's tomorrow: see, I'm already developing that attitude adjustment. Well, I must run along... miles to go before I sleep. Perhaps I do feel a renewed sense of enthusiasm, as I start the day.

Just one week

Just one week more!

--
== posted from phone; edited later.
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Poison ivy

Poison ivy produces some luscious- looking berries, but I’m not tempted to try them. Birds eat those berries, and deer feed on poison ivy. There is much poison ivy in my woods; I would be in deep trouble if I ever developed the allergy.

Locust beans

The long beans hanging from the locust trees are eaten by deer, but in my neck of the woods, they stay on the ground and aren’t used until late in the season. I don’t know whether the pods get sweeter or the deer get desperate. They bite hunks out of the fleshy pods, spacing out the bites to miss the seeds. I have read that the Indians fermented a beer from those pods, too.

Persimmons

The persimmons are yellowing now. I don’t recommend eating one that is not fully ripe. The critters love them so much that I don’t ever find edible persimmons in the woods. They disappear too fast, and squirrels don’t seem to mind a little astringency.

Autumn events

There's light at the end of the tunnel and I hope it's not the train! Lots of things are in the air to stoke my enthusiasm. My countdown to retirement is down to 21 days. The Red Stick Fly Fishers site lists a number of events, including Fall trips, a meeting Monday night, the annual Hunting & Fishing Day stuff at Waddill WMA. Archery season starts October 1, and I'm beside myself anticipating actually spending some leisure time in the woods. This is my favorite time of the year! It's cool in the mornings, weather is mostly dry and sunny, the critters are active, and my neck starts swelling, too.

Finally finished my plumbing project

Whew! I set out to change the hot- water hose on the washing machine-- one of those honey- do projects. It seems that there are internet posts indicating that these hoses might get brittle with age. The hot side might be more susceptible. A hose might fail. A leak might result. This might happen when nobody is around to turn the water off. The floor might get flooded. Well, I finished it yesterday and maybe now I can go play. When the hose turned out to be corroded to the valve, that 5- minute project turned into three weeks. I ruined the faucet in the process, had to replace the valve, and the wrench slipped. Three weeks later, eleven stitches, much aggravation, additional hardware and tools, and medical costs have gone into this project. I think I'm healed enough to start my archery practice again.

Archery Witchery

I get crazy every year, about July. Start daydreaming, practice shooting, examining tracks, and thumbing through outdoors catalogs. It's happened again.

I think there is a family resemblance

I got a scan of this tin-type. It might be a "likeness" of Wes, my great- grandfather.

Too many spiders

I like spiders well enough; this one had caught a yellowjacket for breakfast. But these guys have webs everywhere you go. This weekend, I swept a stick ahead of me to clear a trail. I noted previously there seemed to be many spiders this year; they've grown in size and their webs are larger now. I never saw so many before, and wondered whether this might be a consequence of the dry weather. Perhaps in the past, rain showers and winds have kept most of the webs cleared from the understory.

Campdaddy’s Recipe: Watermelon Jerky

Watermelons are ripening in this part of the country, so are traditionally part of Independence Day festivities. Here’s a great use for left- overs. In my opinion, it’s worthwhile to have “planned- overs” for this. Preparation is very simple for this chewy, sweet snack. Carve up uniform thicknesses of melon flesh, arrange on dehydrator trays and dry overnight. This might also be accomplished in an oven, but experiment on a small scale: there’s lots of sugar and higher temperatures could cause too much caramelization

Painting the picnic table

I finally got this project started. I’ve wanted to do this for a long time. There are still a few holes to chink, some touch- up spots, and the underside to coat. This old table is cypress; my Dad built it when I was very young. He was particularly proud of one of the top planks; it measures 18.5 inches wide. I must say it impresses me, too; it had to come from a big tree. This old table has a colorful history. Covered with a blanket, it has fended off Indians and outlaws and various invading hordes. It has trekked to moons and planets, and the far reaches of space. With a broomstick- mast and a sheet- sail, it has hauled cargo from exotic ports and clashed with pirates across the seven seas. It’s also been a marvelous diving platform, anchored above sunken treasure- galleons. I think I should try to keep it another half- century

Happy Independence Day!

I camped in the country again. I just had to go back and see whether hogs were rooting up the creek banks. The old disturbed spots were still there, but nothing fresh. There were plenty deer tracks, but only one or two tracks that, with some imagination, might have been made by a hog. I guess I’ll just have to load up on bug spray and prowl the woods and thickets to satisfy my curiosity about hogs. I’ve been hesitant about beating the bushes, because the ticks seem to be so numerous. Rolling my pants hems under, with rubber bands to hold them in, has kept the critters from crawling up my legs. Lately, too, I’ve been experimenting with a short pair of gaiters. They keep the pants- leg closed, too, and also fit tight around the shoes. With gaiters, I have been able to wear lighter (and more nimble) low-topped shoes without suffering bug- bites and briar scratches around my ankles.

No pictures this time; didn’t want to get the camera all soggy. I should be getting paid as a rainmaker. Just send me outdoors to play. Last weekend I went, it rained; this week I stayed another day, it rained both days. I planted a short row of broomcorn, a few hills of gourds, and an experimental patch of buckwheat. Maybe it is finally wet enough to germinate the seeds. Since I’m not there to watch over it, I choose plantings that my neighbors are unlikely to steal (although last time, someone got the large gourd I was saving for seed). Now, if the deer don’t eat it all up… they are certainly visiting the place, and are profiting from the pears that a couple of squirrels are knocking down. I picked a few pears myself, cooked and put them in the freezer instead of bothering with canning.

Romance was in the air (and I saw it fall to earth)

I made a pleasant overnight trip to the woods. It’s worth it just to watch the lightning bugs; they were busy doing their lightning- bug things Saturday night. I saw one flash out in the clearing. Another double- flashed nearby, and it must have been a provocative reply: suddenly there was a spot of constant light that fell straight down to the ground and disappeared. Ain’t love grand!

The creek was low, the fish waiting for some morsel to float by. Fewer spiders are scattered on the trails, but they are getting larger. There was a squirrel visiting my pear tree. The pears are still green and he was knocking down a lot more fruit than he was eating. I may have to make jambalaya. I had a pleasant walk up the creek, watched a few birds and squirrels go about their business. I saw some more of those disturbed areas on the creek bank. I wondered whether it might be a hog’s rooting, but the sand doesn’t hold the tracks well… deer tracks were all over the place and they can be hard to differentiate. Maybe next trip I will find some fresh sign.

Daddy's red mule

Yes girls, he referred to it as his "red mule" and I'm still working it (or is it working me?). This old Gravely is heavy and unweildy, but it has a can- do attitude and runs pretty good. I had it overhauled a few years ago, I keep on patching it, and have managed to keep it going. I remember Papaw's Gravely, too. Whew, that was a long time ago. His had a sickle- bar mower that vibrated enough to make your teeth chatter. I had some bush- hogging to do, and it surely was hot.

HAW, now!

Tenting solo

I must have camped in someone's bedding area; it smelled like deer and I found several ticks crawling on me. I didn't notice any tracks or other sign, however. I got this little lightweight tent for cool- weather use, and this was a good opportunity to try it before the summer evenings become too hot. Setting camp while the sun was still up, it was hot inside, but the little shelter seemed pretty well ventilated. There was plenty of floor space for one person and some gear. Overhead ties would accommodate lines or a gear loft. I think it might sleep two, if they were on very friendly terms. There is ample headroom for sitting up, though it is a bit narrow for my shoulders. Breezes did not sway the tent fabric, and I want to see how it handles real winds. This little tent has a small profile and seems to have a good aerodynamic shape. With its many guy- points and stakes, I suspect this would be an excellent performer in blustery weather. I expect to enjoy this little light- weight in the coming winter, but I fear the small size would be wearisome for extended foul- weather stays.

Holiday for kingsnakes?

I saw two of them... up close and personal; wonder if the mating urge has them out and rambling. Two in a weekend, when even one would have been noteworthy, a rare treat. Yellow- speckled, and they were shiny black; made me suspect they had shed recently.

I also saw lots of spiders, those banana/ garden spiders (as a youngster I knew them as "rattlesnake spiders" and they all seemed to build their sticky yellow webs at horseback height). This weekend, they were all small, and some webs had several spiders; perhaps mixed genders. I don't know; I never studied spiders much. I wonder weather those big ones I see in the Fall have grown from this size , or do some over- winter and get a head- start on the year's growth.

Campdaddy's Recipe: Instant Breakfast

OK, it's not really original; I got the idea from a similar one in Backpacker magazine. And it's not really a recipe; more like a "Serving Suggestion". That said, I've been using this lately, and maybe it's worth passing along. Breakfast can be difficult to manage on the trail, or when you're in a hurry to get out of camp for hunting or fishing. I get tired of Pop- Tarts and would prefer something more substantial, anyway. Here's an item that is hot and tasty, quick and easy, and "sticks to your ribs". Requires only your sierra cup and a spoon: cooked and eaten. The flavors meld nicely, and it is fairly nutritious.

• Single- serve packet of instant oatmeal mix (I like the varieties with dried fruit).
• Measure water per packet instructions and heat to boiling (at home, I microwave in a glass cup).
• Dump in the packet of oatmeal mix
• Stir in a dollop of peanut butter, one or two teaspoons or to taste.
• Let stand 'till rehydrated, or until you can't wait any longer.

Free fishing days

I saw on the web today that Louisiana Wildlife and Fisheries declared June 10 - 11 as free fishing days this year: anywhere in the state, freshwater or salt. Don't need a license to fish.

I'm practicing for my retirement

By rough figuring, I should become eligible for retirement September 6 (99 days), and I scheduled a meeting in late July to figure it more closely. I went to the country overnight to celebrate my Birthday. It's definitely summertime in the hills. Seems I just mowed that grass, and it needs cutting again. I was setting up my hammock when the thunderstorm broke, so I made a dash for the truck. I got myself and my gear all wet, but I caught a nap while the rain pattered on the camper- shell. It was hot and steamy after the shower cleared, and I just lazed around. I had brought my old bow, and flung a few arrows. I prowled the creek gravels for pottery sherds, but found none. Mosquitoes were terrible after the sun had set, and citronella candles didn't dissuade them. I had to shelter behind a screen to watch as darkness fell. The last birds went to roost and a bat fluttered around. It was nice to see the lightning- bugs flashing all around; they've murdered all the ones in Baton Rouge with mosquito- spray. I seem to recall single- flash is the male's advertising, and that is what I was seeing.

The songbirds were extolling their happiness Sunday morning; crows were cawing and turkeys were yelping across the creek. My trail to the creek was overgrown, and clearing it was a hot job. I don't know which was worse: swinging a blade or swatting at bugs. I took the opportunity to go up to the cemetery and visit my dad. I've come to be the same age as him--how time flies.

Flyfishing 101

The Red Stick club will host its beginners' day this Saturday. It's free and open to the public. If you have wanted to explore flyfishing, here's your opportunity. A flier is contained in the May newsletter. It's at the Waddill area, and I hear that South Choctaw is blocked, so you must come down Flannery Road from Greenwell Springs Road.

Burp; Yawn; I had my fish- fry

Well, I really did it: first time in my life I bought fish. We celebrated Mom's and Baby Sister's birthdays ( and Earth Day too, I guess). The store- bought catfish were good too... and cheaper and a whole bunch easier and more convenient than the ones I caught. As it turned out, I would have had plenty catfish without the purchase. I could have also thawed some other fish from the freezer so I wouldn't run short, but they were not large ones and I didn't know how well the bony game fish would go over.

I was pleased with the outcome... thanks, sisters for your marvelous dishes. I also fixed Corn Maque Choux and some black- eyed peas perked up with a hint of oregano. Fish fries often include hush puppies and french fries, but that seems an overload of fried stuff; more grease than we need. Also, fix- ahead side dishes released me from the deep- fryer... all I had to cook was the fish.

Fishing Report

Here' s my boy with a catfish. The bass and brim are still not cooperating with me. I have made the threats... multiple times. Well, I finally broke down and set a trotline; took my son to Butte La Rose after work last night; got off at 9:00. I set a short line out just after midnight, ran it once during the night and again at first light. It's good for a kid to learn about such things; trotlines don't seem very sporting but can be productive when needed. I suffer no great moral pangs about line- fishing; just don't feel it confers the bragging rightsI seem to relish; it's a food- gathering technique. I much prefer to take my fish on fly tackle, and pursue them almost exclusively by that method. I have a sense of guilt about my other old fishing gear being neglected and unloved, but I guess everyone must make choices and compromises.

This morning, we cast bass bugs and and tried a variety of smaller flies but only caught a couple small brim.

Happy Easter, everybody

I had a pleasant visit to City Park Lake this morning; slipped over there early for a few casts. I put a new fly line on my reel yesterday and just had to try it out. I had won the new line in a raffle at the flyfishing conclave and it's a fancy one. I never would have bought such an extravagance for myself and it turned out to be very satisfactory. My Dad liked double- tapered fly lines, but I never cared for the ones I tried and was skeptical about this one. It is a double- taper, super- premium, high- floating, teflon- impregnated, 7- weight wiz- bang, high- price job. Well, it handles nicely, floats plenty high, it's limp and lays out straight; those are particular areas that my previous trials fell short. This line is a little heavy in the belly, but that loads my little fast- tip rod well, and seems to add a bit of wind- bucking punch, so I'll make up my mind to like that heavy feel. There in my City Park new- product- testing laboratory, I found good performance with several sizes of flies, wet and dry. I even gave the line a stretch- test on a nice little bass, about a two- pounder.

Took my boy to Butte La Rose yesterday and we caught nothing. Nobody else was catching fish either, and I hear the same from other locations. A few fish hit our flies, but they were very small. Seems the bigger fish are not moving into the shallows and edge structure... I don't know!

River trail at Tickfaw

These signs are at the far end of the park... at the canoe put- in. The proclaimed 17- mile wilderness trail seems a long daytrip to me, and I don't think they will let you camp (I may need to ask). I'm amazed that the river winds that much!

Trail damage at Tickfaw

One of the fallen trees had been cut off of the boardwalk. Another forest giant, toes- turned- up, lies in the background. There is surprisingly little litter on the forest floor.

Pretty morning at Tickfaw State Park, but no fishing

I took my canoe this morning for a visit to the Tickfaw river. I'm trying to catch some fish to fry, and Tickfaw was my choice to avoid crowds and powerboats and stay out of the gusty winds that have been so prevalent. It was a lovely morning, cool and clear and low humidity. When I got to the park entrance, they told me that I wouldn't be able to reach the river. The water in Gum Bayou was too low to access the river, and there were branches and treetops from the storms blocking the way. I spent a couple of hours walking the trails and boardwalks. The trees are leafing out and blooming; the birds are really busy. I walked out to the canoe launch at the far end of the park; the river was low and very clear. The understory was relatively free of fallen limbs, but there were many large trees down. I watched some hawks for a while... some kind of kite, I think. There were three of them, and I couldn't quite figure out the situation. The female was preening and calling from a high perch and the male flew in several times and mounted her. The third one looked similar to the female and just sat there, in a nearby tree. Perhaps it was a juvenile; I am doubtful whether that male would have several mates at the same time. I will try to post a few pictures later... still can't make them work from the home computer.

Atchafalaya explorations

I went back to Bay Begnard... just had to have a look at that cut into Bayou Loin. I believe that this picture is the connecting water. Notice the "gate guardian" perched on that snag. I didn't remember that blue herons were so brightly colored... guess it's their breeding plumage. I saw lots of them! The garfish were making huge splashes all around me, mostly under bushes and limbs. They must be spawning, too. I saw a few small sacks of eggs attached to underwater sticks, but not the large balls of them... different species, perhaps. I was excited to locate that cut, but it was choked with a mass of grass that I couldn't get through; exotic species are the bane of the Basin. There was a likely- looking campsite right at the juncture; I must check the maps, but I think it may be OK to camp there.

Nobody was catching fish; there were lots of people partying and boat- riding... even back in my "secret" spots. The gusty wind was really troublesome, although I even took extra gear along for ballast. I gave up the idea of spending the night and came on back to town. The Interstate was a parking lot again, stretching west of the river... same as last trip... maybe that's a pattern and my forays should be eastward or south. I had sworn off fishing the Basin on weekends, but make exceptions because I need the fish. I'm glad to have Daylight Savings Time back; now I can launch some weekday ventures. All things considered, it was an interesting trip, if not very productive.

Springtime has come to the Tunica Hills

The countryside is really blooming since my last visit. The roadsides are alive with color of wildflowers. Purple vetch has a pretty hue and I especially like the stretches covered with dense stands of red clover. The air holds a heavy perfume of everything blooming. The woods are filling out with new leaves, with white petals and catkins scattered throughout. I like the autumn, but the resurgence of new life in the spring always amazes me. I was on a quick mission this time and can't play, but this has really fired up my spring- fever.

Fishing time is near

I gave it up and returned to town. The wind was too much and unlikely to abate, but luckily, the rains didn't materialize. The campground was loud with blaring music; I could listen to cajun, country, oldies, rap, or various mixtures. I had expected to overnight there. With rain and blustery conditions likely, I had not taken gear for a wilderness sleep. Next trip, I'll allow for alternatives. I tested a half- dozen hooks on catfish lines; lost the bait but caught nothing. A fly was difficult to cast in that wind, but I gave it a noble effort. Every time the gusts would die down, I would venture out again to try fishing. I had several strikes on both wet flies and poppers, but didn't catch any. Nobody else was successful either, and that usually leads them to excessive boat- riding. I'm hoping another week may put us into prime fishing.

I was pleased to get cell phone reception from the boat launch; I was able to send the blog- post you see below and also to make a call.

Made it to Butte La Rose. Too windy. May set trotline.

Potential paddle- trip

• Camp- 30 17' 26.00" N, 91 44' 20.53" W
• Cut to B. Begnard- 30 18' 00.00" N, 91 44' 11.00" W
• Begnard to Loin- 30 17' 29.81" N, 91 43' 28.09" W
• No- name lake- 30 17' 26.38" N, 91 44' 02.54" W

These are proposed waypoints, taken from the LouisianaMap program. The Yellow path shows the route from launch to the end of Bay Begnard. I especially want to explore that cut leading from Bay Begnard into Bayou Loin. I have never been been through there and was unaware of it until I saw it on a satelite image (didn't have those back in the good ol' days). I have been in Bayou loin, but came in from the Henderson direction in someone's power boat. That bayou name is pronounced "lwen", by the way, and it translates as "far away". Seems a good place for me to visit.

Looking at the map, it occurred to me that one could follow my orange trace, wind through that maze of bayous, portage a couple of times, enter the Atchafalaya near I-10, portage into Bayou Larose, and return to the put- in, making a nice looped trip. I'll have to think about camping options; That's probably a full two- day trip.

Hope to camp in this area

Here is the cut that runs into Begnard Bay. I would like to camp somewhere in this area for easy access. I would also like to explore access from the South end of Begnard, heading East into Bayou Loin. That links into many more fingers of water, but campsites are doubtful in that area. There may also be a hiden lake Southwest of Begnard...white spot on the map. I'd like to check that out, too.

Here is a test email post. From cell phone.

Better results with new phone

Oh Boy, I got a new camping spot!

I checked with the state land office and learned that area I admired is, indeed, open to public access. I' ll take my fly rod, set some lines, and spend a night there soon.

Still experimenting with audio from my cell phone

Atchafalaya swamp trip

I took my boy paddling today, parked and launched at Uncle Dick Davis' campground. I've camped there and fished for a lot of years. There has been renovation of the campground; restrooom rebuilt, new water well, and RV hookups upgraded. Well, I always found a spot to tuck the tent into, but would prefer to be further from civilization. We paddled down to Bay Begnard, wondering about camping possibilities. There is some state land there, so I will investigate further. That hidden lake was always one of my favorite fishing holes. I caught my largest fly- rod bass there. It was isolated and quiet. There was a ditch one could pole or paddle a canoe through to the lake. If water was low, it would require a portage. Now, however, so many power boats have been through, so that the ditch is wide and deep. Now there is boat traffic. It's just not enjoyable to fish public waters on the weekends. Anyway, it was too late in the day and too windy to fish, but we made a few fruitless casts around the stumps and tree- tops.

Waypoints from Butte La Rose trip

Obvious error -101 ft N30.38227 W90.64846

State land 2 ft N30.28450 W91.73577

Landing -3ft N30.30250 W91.73522

Ramp 12ft N30.30167 W91.73523

Parking 11ft N30.26965 W91.70692

What a beautiful day!

The weather was marvelous today, cool and lots of sunshine. Today was Red Stick Day, our fly- fishing club's annual shindig. I saw a talk on marsh fishing in Terrebonne Parish (I did much field work there in my former research- life). Also, there were presentations about fishing Yellowstone; beautiful scenery and good fishing. The function was held at Waddill Refuge; I took a few pictures and will edit them in later.

I finally got an audio test to post from my cell phone; I'm anxious to play with that feature and may soon speak to you from who- knows- where.

Test audio post

Flocks are blooming in the woods

I always enjoy seeing the bright purple splashes scattered around the shady nooks. Spring is really coming on, now. We are having a particularly warm day, today. Birds are singing, bushes are greening, and I notice there is a little more daylight in the evenings when I leave work. I'm getting Spring Fever, ready to go fishing, camping, playing in the sunshine.

My pear tree is blooming

I had hoped to do some pruning on this tree, but it is too late now. It makes some pretty good fruit-- it's a cooking pear I guess. It softens enough to bite into, yet isn't mushy. I like to make pear pie with it. Chop up six of 'em kinda small, mix with sugar and cinnamon, dot with margarine, put 'em into a pie shell (a frozen one for us lazy cooks), and bake.

Trillium blossoms are opening

One of the signs of spring that I notice is the trillium, and I watch for its growth and bloom as spring progresses. "Simple pleasures for simple minds", they say.

Red Stick Day is March 4

Well, I have a chance to go to the fly- fishing conclave this year. Since I work alternate Saturdays there is a 50: 50 chance that I would work that day, and that is what usually happens. This year I'm off and will try to attend. There are always good speakers and fly- tyers, lunch is served, the raffles are generous. There's new equipment to see and test: boats and flies and rods and reels. We can fish in the ponds. Everyone there is interested in fly fishing, and a good time is had by all. You can find details at Red Stick Day. It's free and open to the public; consider coming along with us.

Hunter's Pack

• Long ago, I gave up cargo pants, in favor of a day pack that can carry all I need (and then some) without rattling and banging my legs with each step. It's a place to stuff the clothes I peel off as the day warms, there are "comfort" items, and I always have stuff on hand to deal with emergencies (like falling out of trees). I tend to accumulate stuff in my pack, like I do in my desk, truck, or workbench, but I keep looking for lightweight alternatives and items to weed out. Here are my pack's contents at the end of deer season.
• The pack is a German military- issue rucksack, quite worn and with several former owners' names marked on it. I have a spare, un- issued pack just like it, but haven't felt compelled to switch to the new one yet. I always preferred a rucksack over the zip- panel pack styles. A drawstring is used to contain and compress pack contents in the rucksack. Zip panels make a neater package, but you and your gear get pinched and rasped by zippers when it's cold outside. Zippers catch on grit, gear, or frayed threads. Drawstrings, snaps and buckles are much easier to maintain and repair.
• The full- length sleep pad, also German issue, is matched to the pack. The folded pad fits a pocket to protect your back from pack contents. It stretches out for a pic- nic or nap and folds for a cushioned seat. Closed- cell, with a slick surface, it sheds water and dirt well.
  Gear can be attached outside the pack at a number of points. A pocket is mounted on the shoulder- strap for easy access. The black pouch contains small binoculars. There is a bungee- cord arrangement for carrying my tree seat.
• Camouflage headnet-- you see many more critters, much closer if your face isn't shining at them.
• Boonie hat-- has a brim to keep the sun off of neck and ears, and rain out of your collar better than a billed cap.
• Reversible vest-- it's insulated with synthetic fiber which I prefer for our damp climate; wet down doesn't insulate well and dries slowly. I like vests for their arm mobility, especially for bow- hunting. I prefer to wear the camouflage side out because small critters seem to see the orange and raise a fuss. It is convenient having the orange available in the same garment, for quick changes between orange and camo. Orange is required during gun seasons and is helpful for any situation where high visibility is needed.
• Map-- I print these off the computer on plain paper, fold them, and store 'em in a zip bag with compass and pencil stub. Digital technology makes it easy to change size and location for printouts. Save it on your computer (or blog) and print another when you need it. I scribble a date of use, write my field notes, and mark locations diretly on the map. I'll start with a fresh map next time.
• Rope-- that one is quarter- inch braided nylon, about 25 feet long. Its intended uses are hanging up a deer, dragging him out, or lashing him to a vehicle. Its real applications are in building temporary blinds, supporting rain flies or sun awnings, stabilizing ladders, lifting gear into treestands.
• Pringles can-- drop in a stack- pack of crackers and they will last until lunchtime, rather than becoming a bag of cracker crumbs.
• Flashlight-- this runs on two AA batteries and provides enough light for traveling familiar trails at night. I re- charge the batteries near as I can to departure and reverse one of the cells to avoid accidental switch- on. I like the same AA batteries for everything, lights and electronics, so I will need a minimum of spares.
• GPS unit-- this one is not very fancy but it keeps tracks and waypoints, and will tell your coordinates and the direction home.
• Flashlight-- carrying a spare instead of extra batteries adds very little weight and it is quickly put into service.
• Toilet paper=-- aside from the more obvious applications, this is fire- starting tinder and individual sheets serve as biodegradable trail markers.
• Tree seat (no climbing)-- I've been pleased this year,with this new addition. It has kept me off the wet ground, at a comfortable height, and setup against a tree to break the human outline, It has had me very close to three deer.
• Water bottle-- these 24 ounce sizes are recycled. They are lightweight and fit the pack pockets, but I really would prefer a full liter size to match the water treatment tablets.Camoflauge mosquito net-- this is lightweight and hangs easily with clothespins to improvise a blind.
• Poncho-- turns the rain, but has lots of ventilation. Also can be erected as a sun- or rain- shelter.Water bag-- weight and space are negligible, and it's handy to carry a couple of gallons of water back to camp.
• Lunch-- zip bag with a paper towel, plastic spoon, coffee bag, matches, and a MRE entree. Trash packs out in the bag.
• Stove-- my own design uses a No. 2 can as a windscreen with a cross of coathanger wire to support a cup and vent holes drilled near the bottom.
• Cup-- wire- rimmed like a Sierra cup, mine is straight- sided, taller, and holds 12 ounces. Improvised lid from a can end has a wooden knob added. A 3- ounce tuna can serves as burner. Denatured alcohol fuel is in a 16- ounce drink bottle labeled with duct tape.
• Trowel-- I rarely have this in my pack; uses for digging plant specimens or cat holes.
• Chain saw-- I'm impressed with this new addition; a pair of handles, and the chain rolls into a a small can. This thing actually cuts, but I'm mostly using it to ring poor- quality trees, thinning and improving our timber stand.
• Sheath knife-- this one is lighter weight than my usual hunting knife, has a rubber grip and plastic sheath. Think its called a Mora, from Sweden.
• Cell phone-- I got one of these after busting my butt (and ribs). It still doesn't work in the hills, but I keep checking for improved signal.
• Clippers-- I use these to trim branches and vines around my stand and on the trails.
• Deer calls and scent-- these things interest me, but I don't use them much. Might embarass myself. Brings to mind the Austrian saleslady; instead of telling her I wanted to look around, I said I wanted to stand around and watch.
• Yellow pouch-- This keeps all the small necessities from falling to the bottom of the pack, and I can pull it out to pick out what I need. It carries first- aid, food, glasses, batteries, other miscellany.

Happy Groundhog Day!

Well, I haven't heard what it's like in Pennsylvania for Phil, but Louisiana is in short sleeves and there's lots of sunshine. I fear that the nutria saw his shadow and crawled back under the cypress stump, for six more weeks of winter.

Deer season ends today

It is always a sad occurrence to put it to bed for another year, but like the promise of spring that is budding in the woods, a new season is coming. I must stop chasing deer for a while, yet I know there is still another big mossy- horned buck out there. Saturday, I found several buck rubs. Had to be a big ol' boy; these trees he rubbed were big as my leg. If he can survive poachers, car traffic, and old age, and doesn't get love- crazy and leave the country, he will really be a whopper next year. It's time to start getting my gear ready, target practicing, and scouting the deer haunts for the next season.

Woods Violet

These were just peeking out and beginning to bloom. Maybe spring is coming early... or maybe a lot of green stuff is gonna get frost- damaged. Anyway, I've noticed the woods progressively greening. Early spring is a great time for Louisiana outdoors. That early flush of green comes in such contrast to the drab, dreary colors of winter. Critters are active at this time, and the absence of undergrowth lets one see a long distance. Usually there are many birds; hopefully they are just a little late this year. Temperatures have been unusually warm... shirtsleeve weather in the afternoons. I haven't seen any snakes, and the biting bugs are sparse (but not absent). I need to get out for some tent- camping!

First trillium if the year

I am always thrilled to see the trillium come up. They are early risers and are some of the first hints of the coming spring. This year, they seem to be unusually early, but there are also some bushes and grasses leafing out. Maybe we are not going to have a winter... Strike that notion! I just heard the weatherman say winter is coming back tomorrow.

I could've gone this morning

The weatherman kept promising rain, so I didn't try to hunt. Well, it was still gun season anyway... Next weekend is messed up already, too, but I'll try to get out Saturday. Maybe I can sneak off monday afternoon; bowhunt season runs through January 31. This weekend wasn't a loss; I've been looking at paddling websites (bayoutrails.org and that of the Bayou Haystackers). I got a tip about the Louisiana SONRIS map site; been studying it for potential campsites in the Atchafalaya Basin.

Buck Fever

I finally got back to the woods near noon on Sunday. I heard of a large spike and an 8- point taken; heard tales of a 12- point and does that were travelling in herds. I found a fresh rub near my old beech- tree campsite. He was still working this area! I never could satisfy myself with a setup there, so I moved over to the fallen tree which I pictured in a previous post. I heard him about sunset, charging through the dry leaves in the creek bottom; must have come from across Panther Creek. Had to be a buck; he would go charging along for a short sprint, them stop for a long wait. I believe a doe would have just ambled along, pausing occasionally to browse, but making steady progress. Oh, boy, I get nervous when I hear one but can't see him! His progress was loud in the dry leaves, so I could easily keep track of him. When I heard him charge across near my first stand (the one I didn't like), I grunted at him and he stopped in the hollow beyond. I waited, listening for some movement. Oh, boy! Now I couldn't see him and couldn't hear him, either, and he was close! The wind was still in my favor, but daylight was fading fast. I'm pretty cool when a buck hops into view. I know what has to be done and just fall into a well- rehersed routine. But this cat- and- mouse situation makes me crazy. My adrenaline was surging and my heart was pumping so, that I feared he could hear it banging against my chest wall. Finally, I heard footfalls in the leaves, not far away, but behind that fallen treetop; might just be a bird or chipmunk. No, a distinct crunching of leaves! He was out there, but light was failing, I couldn't see my sights. I was about to explode, and thus it ended for the day. But what a rush! That's what has kept me coming back all these years. It's a hard fall and a letdown to quit when you're that close and that pumped- up, but you can bet I'lll be looking for him again.

Fanciest batch of GORP I ever saw...

I just made up a quick batch of trail mix; had grabbed ingredients a few days ago. It is something to behold! The nuts are mixed, with lots of almonds and cashews; the M & M's have lots of blue ones; and the Goldfish crackers are a bunch of colors. I guess the raisins are normal enough to tone it down some. I may have to start eating it now!

New Year's Lagniappe

Wednesday was lagniappe, Cajun for "that something extra". I took my New Year's holiday time and went hunting. Although I saw no deer, the weather was pleasant. There were plenty of squirrels and chipmunks and several flights of geese. I saw a flock of turkeys, too. I never can find those guys in the spring, when they are legal to hunt. I wonder if food supply or terrain may cause them to range elsewhere at that time of year.

Continuing the Chase

Friday night was clear and still, with lots of stars, and it was c- c- c- cold Saturday morning. When I finally got up enough courage to crawl out of the covers, I went to Creek Cottage. There was a freshly worked scrape at the end of the field, and a line of fresh scrapes through Creek Cottage. I set up where those logging trails criss- cross and spent the morning. It warmed up quickly and the squirrels and chipmunks scurried around, but I saw no deer. In the afternoon, I hunted out toward the front amid those cross- trails, but still no deer. I have been noticing there aren't many birds; seems it should be late enough for us to be getting robins and woodcock and all the little early- spring visitors. Sunday morning, I hunted along the pipeline trail. Something grunted at me, "unh- ahhh" as I neared the old beech tree where I always liked to camp. I kept slipping forward, and heard it again on the hillside across Panther Creek, so I guess he challenged me and moved on away. There were a few rubs in the area and some scrapes scattered along the pipeline. I want to take a stand here soon; might be that nice buck I saw last week. Back near the end of the place, I thought I heard a "tending click" and I hid for a long time, but I never saw any movement.

Saw a fine buck there last week

I was off Friday, so I camped Thursday night and had a three- day New Year's weekend to hunt. Scouting Friday morning, I took stands at several places. I saw no deer, but located this likely- looking spot. There are several cross- trails coming up from the creek bottom and this low, broad ridge separates two deep hollows. Trails lead out of those hollows, left and right from here. The main trail follows an abandoned pipeline right- of- way across this view, and there are several deer rubs scaattered along it. When I ambled back here Friday afternoon, the breeze was from the left, so I found a spot to set up on the downhill side. Just at sunset, I saw movement, and a deer came bobbing and looking down the trail. I suspect she saw me from a distance, as she appproached so warily. She stood and studied me for a long time, but couldn't identify me and the wind continued to cooperate. Eventually, she decided she didn't like the situation, and stepped quickly away. I had been studying her, too. I kept trying to put spike horns on her, as gun season was in progress and it was bucks- only. No sooner had she shied away, than the buck came trailing her; he was obviously love- sick. Every few steps, he would utter a soft R- R- R- R- P, like dragging a thumbnail down the teeth of a comb, probably what they refer to as a "tending" click or grunt. It was too fast and too open; I didn't have an opportunity to get my bow up. I suspect the doe must have alerted him somehow; he stopped with me in sight and loitered around. He was close! Less than ten yards. A fair sized buck, his neck was thick, and his coat was unkempt. He was about an eight- point, judging from the size of the rack, but I was too busy to be counting. He was acting very casual. He lowered his head scenting the ground, he wagged his tail, he stepped over and nibbled leaves above him. He turned his rump to me and reached around to lick a spot on his back. During all of these antics, he never diverted his attention from me; those ears kept swiveling with every move, always directed toward me. He was toying with me, watching me while pretending not to. I kept still, hoping he would step behind something or turn his head and allow me to draw. When he moved, it was up the hill and behind this fallen tree, and I never got a chance to shoot. He screwed up, letting me get so close, but his size attests that he makes very few mistakes. On my next visits, the wind favored this uphill position, and the fallen tree served well as a natural blind. I hunted the trail the next morning and afternoon, but he didn't pass again.