Tickfaw Report

I took a new fly fisher over to Tickfaw State Park today. It’s an excellent location for novices: close to home, civilized amenities, and the fish are biting. The Tickfaw River is fairly easy to fish, too. The current is easy to paddle a canoe in, either upstream or down and there’s lotsa fishing structure to cast to. There are holes and shallows, treetops, logs, cutbanks, sandbars, grass edges, and overhanging trees (I decorate those with my flies sometimes).

It was a nice afternoon trip. We got off of work at 2 pm and got there with plenty of time for fishing. The weather cooperated, too. Deer flies buzzing around us were a bit of a nuisance; one must swat cautiously to avoid upsetting the canoe or embedding a hook. On our paddle back to the landing, there was a log blocking the bayou and we thought we were lost. With no bug spray and no flashlight, that could have turned into a miserable night in the swamp! Apparently, the log was floating around and the free end had swung across the channel. We squeezed around the end of the log and found familiar landmarks. On our paddle back to the landing, we saw a hen turkey and her half- grown chick perched on a log that leaned across Gum Bayou.

The fish were small, but lotsa of bites are good for a novice and the scenery is nice. It’s also worth noting that they have rental canoes… you don’t have to own a boat. I noticed that there is a pond on the park property, too. I must explore that in a year or two; I learned that the pond was built about a year ago and stocked two weeks ago. I have been wanting to set a line for catfish, too. And bass; I have only fished for brim, but I often catch a small bass or two, so I know they are in there. Maybe there are some big ones. The state record spotted bass came from somewhere in the Tickfaw River. Around the state park, there is certainly ample forage for big bass. There are lotsa small brim and we saw schools of mullet or shad popping along the surface. I’m ready to go back!

Take a hike

Summer hikes in Louisiana are best in the mornings. I recently joined the Louisiana Hiking Club (check out the website) and today I went on my first outing with them. We visited several spots without ranging far from home. The summer heat built quickly, but I was back in BR before the afternoon showers began. At Port Hudson SP we hiked the trail to Fort Desperate. Some climbed observation towers on the way to the museum. The air conditioning felt good while we wandered around the exhibits, and we were refreshed for our guided tour of some battlefield sites. We lunched at Audubon SP, saw a presentation on Audubon’s life there, sampled soft- drinks typical of the 19^th century plantation, and had a guided tour of the Oakley House. The Mary Ann Brown Preserve was nearby, and we made a brief visit, mostly to see where the facility is and what it is like. Naturally, I spotted the pond and wanted to learn about fishing possibilities. Today’s trip was a very nice getaway. I enjoyed hiking with old friends and meeting new ones. I’ll definitely involve myself in more hikes with this likeable group.

They’s ticks in them hills

I think I’ve never seen so many ticks; they are in the woods, in the field, in the yard, in the berry patches, in the trees, in the grass. I saw a recent message- board post on the computer, complaining about somewhere out west…. Seems this guy was finding hundreds of ticks while hiking; I didn’t see anything like that. Still, there were more ticks crawling on me than I was accustomed to. I was pondering the reasons why there seems to be so many ticks; I guess it could be global warming. Space aliens seem unlikely, and communist plots are not as threatening as they once were. Maybe our assault on biodiversity has diminished some important tick- predators. Whatever; the ticks were a good excuse to stay out of the woods. I forgot to bring my sun- hat, so I should avoid too much heat and bright sunshine. Lots of birds were out and very busy, so they required watching. Church with the cousins didn’t start until 9 and then there was a sendoff for the pastor who was being replaced. It’s amazing how many reasons require me to avoid work. Oh well, I’ll just recycle my To- Do list… maybe that is a good conservation practice. I was touched by that church visit; I hadn’t been inside there for a long time… it was coming home, and there was a communion service. Mostly it was family, and it was a relaxed and informal atmosphere. Whenever I enter that little church, I think of my grandfather’s funeral there. It is not troubling thought, just a memory that always comes to me. Beside the road this morning, a pair of quail flushed and flew away together… another half- century- old memory… my grandfather was a bird hunter and would save quail to feed me when I visited.

Indian pinks… learn something every day if you’re not careful

I found a labeled picture of these at the Bluebonnet Swamp Nature center (they are celebrating their ten- year anniversary on Saturday, by the way). These native wildflowers are Indian Pinks, Spigelia marilandica. My own picture was taken in the Tunica Hills... serendippity... it was a place where I started down the wrong trail from a hilltop. It is amazing how a small miscalculation at the top of a hill can translate to such a great mess by the time one reaches the bottom, with briar- patches, ravines, blow- downs and sheer distance between you and your destination. My post is rambling… anyway, I happened upon this patch of flowers and was astonished. They were beautiful and their bright colors stood out boldly against the greening of early spring. I’ve seen something like these before, but I didn’t know they were natives; and I didn’t know they grew in my woods. I guess my forays to the forest have always been brief during the spring… too busy trying to make a living… seems I have been missing a lot.

Happy Mother’s Day!

I heard a turkey gobbling across the road this morning. There was a dove cooing and every time the dove would call ”ku-coo, coo, coo, coo”, the turkey would gobble in response. I figured they were both serenading for Mother’s Day. I listened for a half- dozen times, but I had to move on… I, too had mothers to visit.

Another cottonmouth encounter

I saw another snake, perhaps the same cottonmouth as in my recent picture, on the creek bank. He was about the same size and only about 100 yards away. This time he was lying in a small drainage close to my cabin, beneath the foot- plank that I use to cross the stream. It made him nervous when I stepped one foot down onto the footbridge… he reared his head and opened his mouth in his threat display. It worked, too. Seeing that white maw, which gives cottonmouths their name, upsets me… I backed off; it was too close for comfort. He didn’t seem to like my company, either; and slithered off into a hole, allowing me to cross the bridge. Seeing so many snakes certainly keeps me attentive to where I am stepping. Mid- afternoon, I hiked to a high point on Hickory Ridge to get a cell phone signal and check my messages. I took a round- about route back to camp and within 50 yards of that same footbridge, there was a cottonmouth in the trail. Now, I needed to come down off the ridge and that trail was the only reasonable way. The snake was headed up and I was headed down, and we sorta found ourselves at an impasse. I took another quick step toward him and tried to appear as big and as bad as possible… my aggressive, threat- mode. Well, it got his attention and made him nervous, but it was counterproductive, as he held his ground and assumed his own aggressive threat- mode. My adrenaline was pumping, but he wasn’t getting the best of me! I was armed with a hiking staff and a revolver, and I fully intended to come down that trail. I flailed the ground and stirred the leaves with my staff and finally got the snake moving, but he only went up on the bank about shoulder- high and within striking distance of the trail… not good enough! But I could reach that position with my staff, so I goaded him a little. He wagged his tail and gaped his mouth and coiled up; he was getting mad now. This cottonmouth was difficult to convince, but I kept poking him, and he reared his head and gaped his white mouth, and hid under the weeds, and let out a terrible stink. Finally, he moved on off and let me pass. I’m a little uncomfortable about having a poisonous snake hanging around so close to my cabin, but I killed too many of them when I was a kid. They had me believing that all snakes were vermin to be exterminated, and I was very efficient with my pellet- gun. I came to regret that eventually, and don’t like to bother snakes if they don’t bother me. This guy is showing up too often, though. On the other hand, maybe I would like to propagate his non- aggressive genes… he was slow to anger, didn’t come forward to attack, and didn’t strike when I was poking him. We'll see.... Here's an interesting link I found about cottonmouths.

Why am I a morning person?

I love sipping coffee and watching the day wake up. Out my cabin window, I see the first graying of the sky in the southeast. An owl hoots. The gray turns to a vague light, as the stars fade out. There are scattered bird- calls; some critter is rustling around in the grass and leaves… maybe an armadillo. Across the creek a turkey yelps; my cup is empty and I’m feeling lazy… I probably should fix a refill. Light has come from behind Hickory Ridge now, and is gradually filtering across the sky. The birds are singing in earnest now, fluttering around, and hopping from limb to limb. Daytime is here and I have things to get done; it’ll be hot soon and I’m burning daylight… better get moving.

Swamp- walking

I have been seeing the denizens of the swamp from a new perspective (click the pic). My time in the Louisiana swamps has often been in a canoe or motorboat (with a motor everything whizzes by or the noise makes the critters hide). On foot, my typical swamp visit has been a brief rest stop or a hunt during cold- weather. My recent boardwalk excursions are new and interesting to me. Only minimal attention is needed to avoid obstacles, thorns, and snakes, and the elevated platform allows views down into the weeds, water, and brush piles. I'm doing stuff that is pretty tame recently, but it’s better than the frustration of wishing I were someplace exotic, and my swamp walks have contributed much. I have been going to the Bluebonnet Swamp for little strolls, on my way to work; that makes it only 2- 4 times a week, but it’s on a regular basis. The park’s trails are paved with limestone rocks and there are boardwalks that lead into the wet areas. One could walk the entire trail system in less than an hour, but I usually slip along, slow and quiet, and watch for critters. They close at 5 pm, so I go there Tuesdays and Wednesdays around 3:30 or 4:00 and leave at 5:00. That gives me a chance to regroup, to recover from domestic life and rush- hour traffic, get a little exercise, and still get to work early enough to check email, read a magazine, or loaf a bit. This is the way working life should be: the 5- day weekend!

Need more hiking!

I went to the monthly meeting of the Louisiana Hiking Club; they meet the first Thursdays at the Bluebonnet Library. Here’s a link to their homepage. Although I have been interested in this group for years, their meeting times conflicted with my work schedule... now they conflict with my play schedule. There are a variety of interests there: dayhikers, casual strollers, backpackers, even some long- trail hikers. The club has some organized hikes and backpacking, but a lot of small groups link up for various outings. Maybe they'll encourage me to keep strengthening; building some hiking muscle has been helping my busted hip, I think… that extra muscle seems to stabilize it. The hiking club meeting was interesting; a presentation on the John Muir Trail, by a guy from the Lafayette shop, Pack & Paddle. The group will have a dayhike to St. Catherine's Creek in July... I need to go for that. My 5^th- great- grandfather, Christian Bingaman, had a Spanish land grant near Natchez, and I think it was on St. Catherine’s Creek.

More snakes!

Here’s another big cottonmouth in my “backyard”. I’m amazed; I never before saw so many snakes in the hills. This fellow was headed up the creek bank yesterday morning. I guess he had warmed his engines and was off for a frolic in the woods. The blue runner was sunning in the mowed grass of the field. He watched, flicked his tongue, and tolerated me for a while, but he left in a hurry, once he decided to. I have always seen lots of snakes along the bayous, where they leave the water to sun in “public view” on logs and limbs, so their presence doesn’t surprise me. But I am unaccustomed to seeing so many snakes in the hills. Perhaps I am simply out more often, now.

The days of melted GORP

Summer is coming to the hills and bayous; it becomes obvious when chocolate chips in your pack begin fusing the peanuts and raisins into amorphous globs. Such was the case yesterday. I ate my ramen and, wanting something more, pulled out my GORP jar. It was a total melt- down! First time I ever ate my GORP with a spoon; haven’t changed over to a summer formulation, yet. It was a hot session of grass- mowing and I went through a lot more water than I would have expected. When darkness came it was still too hot in the cabin, so I strung up my hammock to sleep outside. I have never camped much in a hammock, but have carried one many times on summer day trips and work sessions. Hammocks are great to rest and cool off during the midday heat. They are light weight, pack small, and are easy to set up. Hammock- camping has become quite popular among backpackers; there are some benefits and some trade- offs to weigh against tent- camping. Among those comparisons, hammocks are cool: much more comfortable than that hot, stuffy cabin. But during the night, the temperature dropped and the humidity increased, and I kicked and scratched for cover the rest of the night… the small- sized foam pad was convenient for packing and my little blanket was lightweight, but I just did not have enough insulation… I guess it’s not really summer, yet.

Cottonback rattlemouth?

This old moccasin was lying in an area I had mowed last week and didn’t seem intimidated by my presence. He just rose up and watched me; didn’t run away and didn’t charge me. He seemed friendly enough; every time I would throw a stick at him, he would wag his tail rapidly. He held his ground, but I wanted him to move so I could better identify him. When I went to look for the proverbial 10- foot- pole, he sneaked away. You can bet I watched where I was stepping when I crossed that area again! I had close visits with three snakes, and I don’t go looking for them; that’s more than I usually see in a whole weekend. I saw a black runner in the camp yard and a large rat snake near the creek.

It was a windy day and, in the woods, it was raining bugs. Inchworms and tent caterpillars were everywhere and were often crawling on me. Something I found strange was that there were no spider webs. Usually, there would be sticky yellow webs stretched across every trail and throughout the woods.

I’m still watching the mayapples

The mayapples are growing, but are still a long way from mature. I continue threatening to put a cage over some, to keep the critters off until I can taste a ripe one. However, I’m not sure how to exclude critters without interfering with the plants.

Meet Toby!

I had a visit from one of my pets in the camp- yard(click the pic for a close- up). This king snake was rather large… must have been 5 feet long. I felt safe getting up close for a picture, since he continued smiling as I crept in on him. He was a beautiful animal, sleek and shiny, with brilliant coloring; he must have recently shed… another evidence of the renewal of life in the springtime. I don’t know where that “Toby” name came from or what significance the name has, if any. My Dad used that name for snakes or snake skins around habitations: “there’s ol’ Toby.”

Bluebonnet swamp

Now that I am working only part- time, I am trying to take advantage of this opportunity to play. The Bluebonnet Swamp area is adjacent to my workplace and, lately, I have been making time to visit. It’s a pretty area, a little patch of wetland, tucked into Baton Rouge’s urban sprawl. I could see it out the window, but their hours always clashed with my work schedule. I’ve been trying to spend some time there, for a long while. The trails are easy to walk, so one can meander though the varied habitats without getting dirty, scratched, or bug- bitten (I suspect that there can be mosquito problems at times, though). Boardwalks keep you out of the water and Gumbo- mud. The Bluebonnet Swamp is somewhat civilized for my tastes, and highway noise is always present. On the other hand, it provides a convenient getaway, and can serve up a quick outdoors “fix” to tide me over until I can get a better reprieve from the city. I’m glad someone managed to preserve this small wilderness before the construction boom gobbled it up, too. Voters renewed the tax last week, to continue development of the local parks and there are other ones I want to visit. Descriptions of this nature preserve and the other facilities are given on the BREC website. They have lots of interesting ambitions, to improve recreational opportunities in the Baton Rouge area. An improvement I have been particularly interested in is rejuvenation of the lakes around LSU and City Park. That project could yield a wonderful sport- fishery, smack dab in the heart of the city.

April fool!

I had a rainy weekend, but it’s mighty pretty in the woods. Everything is greening up rapidly. Unfortunately, part of this flush of spring growth involves crawling ticks and buzzing mosquitoes. That orange fungus was a bright beacon against the green backdrop. As usual, I couldn’t find any springtime turkeys; they walk all around me in the fall, when the season is closed. Then, to make matters worse, there was a hen strolling near the highway as I drove back to town. Perhaps that was another part of the April- fools joke on me.

What's digging those holes?

Something has been rooting along the creek bank. There are wild hogs in this part of the country, but I’ve never seen any on our place. All I see is evidence of digging or rooting; and I would expect hogs to leave some tracks. I guess this could also be armadillo diggings, but I can’t say definitely.

Who? Who was that?

A bird flushed and startled me, coming from a small magnolia tree nearby. It ducked into the butt of this log and stopped to stare at me … a little screech owl. He turned a shoulder to me as I snapped a picture, then he darted away; I can barely make him out. Maybe he lives in that log… I’ll try to visit him again.

Mayapples... love to see 'em

Stands of mayapples are beginning to bloom now. I always enjoy seeing patches of these exotic- looking plants; and, one of these days, I’m going to sample one of their fruits before the deer and squirrels eat them all.

Drying out

It was colder than I had expected: 32 degrees on my little zipper- pull thermometer. I stirred up the coffee- makings without leaving the covers, and lazed there sipping coffee and watching daylight arrive. When I sat up to dress, I brushed the tent wall and got a wet sleeve. Condensate can be a problem in some tents, especially small ones and in cold and damp conditions. I’m still in the learning curve with this little tent: need more ventilation next time. The sunny morning warmed quickly, and I soon had my gear dry and packed.

Early Spring is best for Louisiana camping

I camped in the creek bottom Friday night. The sun had set, and darkness was quickly closing in. I set up my tent under the drop- off, to be sheltered from that North wind whistling across the field. It had been a lovely, mild afternoon but the temperature was dropping rapidly. Trees and brush were tight, so a large enough campsite was hard to find in the fading light; I was especially trying to avoid the game trails. Those deer will ramble around all night long and keep waking you with their nervous snorts and foot stamping. Once the tent was pitched, I stepped off to a convenient kitchen spot and saw a green fireball overhead. I looked up and saw another… don’t meteor showers come in the early morning? Then I saw another that was nearly stationary… lightning bugs! They were scattered all around in the treetops and when one was caught in a gust of wind, his flash went through the woods like a tracer. That was quite a show. I never knew fireflies were out this early or at such cool temperatures. Supper in the dark must be simple and hot, so Ramen soup was on the menu: quick, easy cleanup, and I was ready to duck into the tent. I fired up the candle lantern and it quickly moderated the temperature in my little solo tent, but it’s not quite enough light to read by. Funny… I recall that it used to be enough light… maybe they just don’t make candles like they used to. Unfortunately, my bed was not very satisfactory. Setting up in the dark, with few spots available, I had picked a very lumpy location, and could expect as long night. I soon crashed and the next I knew, my cell phone’s alarm was calling me… maybe it was not so bad a site after all. I love to watch the woods come alive in the early morning. The sky was just beginning to gray when I heard the turkey gobble across the creek. I might be looking for him next weekend! Then I heard an excited- sounding hen start up, and there were several abbreviated gobbles… I don’t know enough about turkeys: maybe those were still on the roost; or maybe they were the younger jakes.

Red Stick Day

It was a beautiful day! It was clear and cool, with the trees budding out. Everyone seemed to have spring fever as bad as I do. My boy was after the bass which were visible all along the shallow pond edges; they examined every offering, but refused to bite. Red Stick Day is the annual gathering of the local fly- fishing club. I visited friends and saw some interesting demonstrations and presentations. I did not win any prizes in the raffles, though. I surely lusted after a beautiful little pack rod made by a fellow club- member, but didn't win it. Lunch was a special treat: crawfish etouffee (pronounced A- 2- FAY), first crawfish I've had this year.
The kayak demonstrations were popular, and there was much interest in the new model that The Backpacker had brought along. Back amid the turmoil of my residence, I forgot to view the lunar eclipse; when I dashed outside, the moon was already high and the eclipse was over... guess I'll have to wait for the next one.

Mardi gras in the swamp

It’s difficult for my son and me to coordinate days off for fishing, but we got away Monday afternoon and headed toward Butte La Rose for an overnighter. The water was very clear, but high, and the wind was howling. We only brought our fly rods and they were too much of a battle in that wind. We set a trotline and found an inlet that was quiet enough to make a few casts… no fish, though. It was a pretty drive across the Atchafalaya Basin; the trees were bare and the dominant color was a wintry shade of grey. There were occasional sprigs of green, but against all of that drab background were great flames of red- purple color where the swamp maples were coming to life again. I have always been impressed by that vivid swamp- maple display in the early spring. Simple pleasures…. We were prepared to camp in the swamp, but I didn’t relish fighting a canoe against that wind or listening to a tent flap all night. The swamp is different from my home territory: it’s all flat, whereas the hills offer more windbreaks and protected coves. We stayed in the truck- camper, baited our line, and ran it once during the night and again at daylight. We did manage to get some catfish… caught enough for supper when we got home and put two packages in the freezer for future meals… we made groceries and had a pretty good outing.

More signs of Spring

A little woods violet was smiling through the leaf- litter…another pronouncement of spring. The goldfinches were busy at my birdfeeder, and there were many other birds fluttering around the bushes and the camp- yard. I need to put up a nest box for that bluebird!

My intention was to do some squirrel hunting while I was in the woods; when I was chasing deer, the squirrels were everywhere. Now, I only spotted two, and they were far away. Maybe I was too enthralled with the birds bouncing everywhere, to be serious about squirrel hunting. The rainy spell seems to have ended, but the ground is still wet like a sponge. It was cold this morning, low 20’s, but it was still, and warmed up to a very pretty afternoon. I love this time of the year... I guess I say that at every season... it's always joyous to be out basking in the natural world. Sunrises and sunsets have been colorful… those red- orange skies make beautiful contrasts to the silhouettes of bare- limbed trees.

Seasons are changing

Well, it’s a bittersweet time of year for me; bowhunting will end tomorrow, and it always saddens me a little. On the other hand, the trillium reminds me that springtime is almost here and it always gladdens me with its early emergence through the drab, dead leaves of the forest floor. The arrival of birds seems to be late this year, but they are here now, and very busy in the woods. I watched a long time as robins fed in a tree across the creek. I don’t know what they were after, but it must have been very good. They fluttered and cackled and came and went… it was a veritable cyclone of birds!

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.