Ice Fishing on Patten Pond, March 2016

When we’re hiking or mountain climbing in Maine, we travel as light as we can possibly get by with to safely make it in the wilderness for two or three days. Yet, a day of ice fishing takes a small village. We traveled to Talmadge, Maine last Saturday to fish Patten Pond. It’s COLD being out on the ice for hours, so being properly geared up and prepared is very important. Robin and Steve brought their handy Eskimo pop-up shelter, stove and a couple of heavy-duty ice augers, which were pulled easily across the ice on sleds. With a few ice chests full of supplies, chairs and lots of coats, blankets, hats and gloves, we set up a nice little camp to enjoy the day!

Ice Fishing Village

The wind was wicked and the ice slick enough for skating, but the temperatures weren’t terrible for a Maine winter day. Several times, chairs, ice chest and the smaller sled started drifting away in the wind blowing harshly across the ice. Dennis and Alexander took off to retrieve them, while the girls and I held on to the remaining gear and Robin and Steve worked to secure the shelter. After two attempts to get the shelter staked down in a safe spot with the wind whipping it around, we were all set and able to get on to the task of setting the ice traps so we could catch some fish.

Holding down the fort!

The ice was so slick that it was very difficult to stay on our feet without creepers on our boots. It was smooth and wet, making for treacherous walking conditions in most places. It’s amazing the difference made by adding “studded snow tires” to your boots. I didn’t dare even try to go without.

I would never have been able to stay on my feet on the slippery ice without creepers on my boots.

Victoria wasn’t thrilled about being out on the cold, creaking, slippery ice. She felt very insecure and uncomfortable, so she hovered in the warmth of the tent most of the day. She loves to fish, but she prefers to fish during the warmer months when she can go out in her shorts and flip flops and settle on the grassy bank of a trout pond or in a canoe. And that’s alright! Find any way you can to enjoy the outdoors and make it your own. Just GET OUT THERE and enjoy it!

Dennis, Steve and Alexander started the task of drilling holes, and we started hauling the traps and bait out. We ended up with a dozen or so traps set, so we spread our odds as far we could across the pond.

In our family, you bait and set your own hooks and traps. You hook it, reel in and even gut your own fish! If you need help, you’re taught and shown how, then you do it yourself. That’s the rule. As a matter of fact, Liv was the first person in our family to learn to clean fish. She was only nine years old at the time!

On Saturday, she was also the first person to catch a fish! That’s my girl!

It was a great day of family fun, sunshine reflecting off glistening ice, eagles soaring overhead and fresh caught food to take home. Robin and Steve always go the extra mile to make sure everyone can safely enjoy our outings. She was the first person to ever ask me, “Do you want to go ice fishing?!” And we were hooked! I’m forever grateful for Robin, this sister and kindred spirit who introduced me to the outdoors lifestyle I now couldn’t possibly live without!

For even more adventures shared by Robin, please visit her site at: RobinFollette.com

My husband, Dennis, landed this great catch!

Alexander’s prize!

A good catch!

It’s hard to beat a day outdoors – any day, any season – when you’re privileged to live in the Maine woods.

Till next time…

 

Alexander’s First Hunt

Alexander is sooooo excited to be out hunting today.  He has been waiting since I can remember for that magic tenth year of life to roll around. He has followed me traipsing through the woods and sitting on stumps on many occasions while I hunted. He always wants to carry my rifle or shotgun, just so he can pretend. How many times I’ve said, “Sorry, son. You can’t do that. You’ll be ten soon and get to hunt with your own gun!” Of course, he felt it would never come soon enough.

Alexander’s 1st Hunt

I heard him telling a friend at school the other day, “Yeah, Saturday I’ll be huntin’ with my mom and dad. I’m gonna get a buck. A BIG buck.” 🙂 I hope he does! Fresh deer meat in the freezer would be awesome.

In Maine, youth hunting begins at 10 years of age, however, legislation was recently passed removing that restriction. Beginning in January 1, 2016, an entire new generation of hunters will begin an exciting year. A family heritage we are so proud to honor and to protect will be continued.

For information on obtaining your Maine hunting license, to review all current guidelines and follow as they change, please visit: Maine’s Department of Inland Fisheries and Wildlife

The Greatest Adventures Never Told

As you know, we are avid outdoor adventurers. Sometimes the adventures we pursue are on a grand scale. We may be across the state climbing a mountain or trapping somewhere on a ridge line during hawk migration. You may find us hiking trails up and down a waterfall and camping out in a forest preserve, waking up in our down sleeping bags to see snow on the ground. Sometimes, and often some of my favorite times, are the still, quiet moments most wouldn’t consider adventurous at all.

Many of my favorite adventures in life are savored inside the walls of our cozy cabin in the woods. Life is sweet in front of the wood stove, in the living room surrounded by children and grandchildren, and in my often bustling kitchen. Yesterday’s adventure started the night before when I whipped up a batch of sourdough starter.

Sourdough starter mixed up the night before using 1 TBS active dry yeast, 2 cups lukewarm water, 2 cups King Arthur Unbleached Bread Flour

I got up the next morning, sent kiddos off to school and made a fresh pot of Butterscotch coffee. I loaded the wood stove and got to work. After horses, chickens, turkeys and rabbits were all fed and watered, I came in, washed up and started putting bread together.

Sourdough mix, additional 4 cups of flour, 3 TBS olive oil, 1 TBS raw sugar and 1 TBS of sea salt added to the mix

I covered with a clean, warm, damp dish towel and left it sitting on the kitchen cabinet for a couple of hours.

Another round of kneading in my stand mixer, then transferred half to a bread pan and half to a pie plate for a round loaf. The final rise would be on the warming racks of our wood stove. Later, two pans of bread baked at 380° for 35 minutes. It was fresh, hot and ready just in time for supper.

Adventure (and joy) is found anywhere YOU seek it! Life is good!

 

 

Retreat to the Adirondacks

In July, Robin texted me to say I had to reserve this week on my calendar for next year. She was at a women’s writing retreat at Pyramid Life Center in the Adirondack Wilderness of New York. Reception was very sketchy, so I didn’t get the full story until the following weekend when she got home, but when Robin says I HAVE to be somewhere, I trust in how well she knows me. I marked the third week of July 2015 on my calendar. I couldn’t wait to see what the event was all about. As a photographer, I knew a week spent in the Adirondacks was going to be amazing. As a writer, I was eager to learn from my peers and brush up on my skill set.

Canoes at Rest on Pyramid Lake

It worked out that Robin and I were joined by Lindsay,  a sweet friend who grew up with her daughter. We talked the entire eight hours it took to drive to Pyramid Life Center ( PyramidLife.org ) with only a couple of stops along the way. The “girl’s time” was great.

Our home for a week, Cabin #3 – “Lourdes”

We got checked in and settled into our cabin, met a few of our cabin mates and started getting a good feel for the atmosphere. There were over 80 women in attendance this year from a wide range of locations and backgrounds, and we were all excited. Our minds were still racing with thoughts of home, chores, obligations, stresses. It took a day or two to truly decompress.

Throughout the week, there was time spent in various workshops learning more about our craft. I enjoyed my Travel Writing workshop with Author, Deb Smith and learned a great deal. I found I would sit down to write out my homework assignments each day and lose hours in quiet contemplation. The words came in floods, something I hadn’t experienced in a while. Then…quiet.

One of my favorite writing spots on quiet mornings

I quickly found my favorite writing nooks, and enjoyed time to simply relax, ponder, reflect and allow the words to flow freely from my pen. My pen. I haven’t written by hand in a long time, but one of the instructors talked about how the creative part of our brain is stimulated when we write by hand. This concept was proven the minute I got home and sat down to write on the laptop again…when no words would come to me. So, again, I picked up pen and paper…

Morning writing time was spent with a juvenile robin checking me out.

Little visitor

I had the cutest visitors when I’d sit quietly on the porch and decks overlooking the lake. We also had time to do some paddling and explore our little area. The peace and serenity were therapeutic, as I settled into my surroundings for a few days, quieted my ever busy mind and just began to breathe.

The Ladies of the Lake – four of my cabin mates

Catching a free ride on my kayak

The workshops were just what I needed to transform my mindset regarding my writing, but the time spent with like-minded women was the sweetest. Evenings were spent on the front porch, gabbing, sipping wine, snacking on almonds and laughing. We are all so different, some of us from the inner city and some of us from the back woods, and we are all just the same. Kindred spirits formed bonds while lounging peacefully in adirondack chairs.

Most afternoons and evenings were spent reading and writing on the porch of our cabin.

Beautiful flower gardens surround Pyramid Lake

Views that make me smile

I’ve already put the third week of July 2016 on my calendar.

Till next time…

Outdoors Woman, Meet Outdoors Man: The Neverending Trail from Mt. Katahdin

To recap: Air Rescue on Mount Katahdin’s Dudley Trail – Sunday, June 22, 2014

Hiking in to spend a night at at Chimney Pond is enough of a treat. The trail starts at Roaring Brook Campground and winds up through the woods, over brooks and streams. Dennis calls it “the longest 3.25 miles you’ll ever hike.” After last summer’s adventure, we know that’s not quite THE longest!

Rocky stairs on the trail to Chimney Pond

Chimney Pond, June 2014

With my stomach turned inside out and with more careful foot placement than ever, we made our way up toward Pamola Peak. The rate of incline up Dudley Trail is so steep, hikers are warned that climbing up is fine, but are strongly discouraged from attempting to climb down. For only my second time to climb Mount Katahdin, this trail was extremely taxing on my body. “Just put one foot in front of the other. Step, step, step.” Dennis’s words churned in my mind, and I added, repeating to myself over and over and over, “I can do this.”

Working our way up Dudley Trail, not even halfway to the top

We reached the peak, took the obligatory photos of each other standing next to the big sign and took a few shots of breathtaking views at every angle. We had lost so much time already. It was after 1:00, and darkness would fall around 9:00.  After a brief rest, we struck off descending the Helon Taylor Trail with 3.2 miles left of our journey, and I was never so happy to reach the end of a trail as I was this dreary day.

Already exhausted after climbing nearly straight up the side of Katahdin on Dudley Trail

We needed to descend this stretch before dark, and climbing down generally goes more quickly than climbing up. Hiking down from Chimney Pond takes us three to four hours with a few stops to rest, so we estimated reaching the Jeep around 5:00 – 6:00 p.m. We’d be fine. We began ambling down the rocky slope.

Looking out from Pamola Peak

The trail coming down the top of Helon Taylor was different than the other trails I’d climbed. We were traveling down a rocky spine with some stretches of easy walking on paths of gravel and the occasional hop, skip and jump down big flat boulders. I was relieved at the ease this time, my knees still quite shaky from our morning events. We kept a good, steady pace for quite a while before stopping to rest. I was so ready to end this hike, not many photos were taken.

Helon Taylor Trail leading down from Pamola Peak

Easy flowing gravel pathway on Helon Taylor Trail

“The black flies won’t be an issue when we reach the cooler air on top of the mountain,” he said. Pfft. Wrong. Yes, we plan as best we can for every situation. Plan A: Check your can of bug spray to make sure it has more than a few sprays of protection left in it. I ran out before we got to Chimney Pond the day before, and with my allergy to black flies, lack of a good bug spray is serious business. Plan B: Keep moving!

Dark Eyed Junco on top of Mount Katahdin

Every time we stopped to sit, have a protein bar or drink of water, the bugs attacked with vengeance. They were all over me, on my face, neck and under my hair. It was hot, baking sun reflecting off of the rocks, but I couldn’t risk putting my hair up and exposing even more skin. We had to keep moving. Then, we ran out of water.

Views from Helon Taylor Trail

Packing as light as possible means including only two plastic water bottles. 40 ounces of water for a full day of any outdoor sport isn’t enough, and our last reliable source of water was back at Chimney Pond – nine hours behind us. We looked for water available along our path, and we found a small pool of rain water in the sunken top of a boulder. I was thankful for the short rain shower we’d sat through earlier. We drank it.

Views from Helon Taylor Trail

My legs and knees were in bad shape when we finally made it below the treeline. It seemed we’d been coming down that trail forever already, and looking at the time, we were more and more skeptical of making it out before dark. We had flashlights, but hiking down rocks and over extremely uneven surfaces in the dark was more than my brain could wrap itself around. The tears welled in my eyes again. I was beyond exhausted, hungry and needed water so badly I was looking around every bend for any water source I could find. At that point, I didn’t care that we were below the canopy where the risk of beavers contaminating the streams can’t be ignored. My muscles were mush, I was sorely dehydrated, and my legs were starting to cramp fiercely, my knees nearly giving way with every step I took. Finally, I heard the sound of running water. Praying this was the beginning sounds of Roaring Brook, I sped up as much as I safely could to get to the source of the sound.

Finally settling below the treeline

It was not Roaring Brook, dammit, but it was water. Cold, clear running water. Not clean, not really safe to drink without treatment, but my body wasn’t making it any further without water. So we filled our bottles and drank. Ok, I guzzled. A lot. We still didn’t know what stream we had found or how far we had to go, so we kept moving without a real rest that time.

Darkness fell, and the flashlights came on. The thought that I was going to lay down on a rock somewhere and wait for Dennis to come back with park rangers to carry me out on a stretcher was at the forefront of my mind. I.Could.Not.Take.Another.Step. My knees buckled every time I put my foot to the ground. The path had become fairly level by now, with few step downs off of rocks and only some tree roots to navigate, but I’d already had enough. I was certain I couldn’t go on. Crying again. The severely injured hiker on my mind. Watching my husband’s flashlight bobbing up and down on the path in front of me as he kept moving at a good clip, more and more distance between us…then I heard it. It was the unmistakable roar of Roaring Brook – aptly named.

We rounded the end of the Neverending Helon Taylor Trail, onto the short stretch leading to the parking lot, the Jeep and HOME. That night, I vowed I’d never feel the need to climb the mountain again. I would keep my feet on solid ground with no desire whatsoever to kill myself for the sake of “accomplishment” or “overcoming.” There are much easier paths in life to tread than up and over the mountains. Then again, mountains are made of solid ground.

Till next time…

Paddling Hodgdon Mill Pond at Sunset

Dennis, our son, Alexander, and I recently took the opportunity to canoe Hodgdon Mill Pond at sunset.

Canoeing Hodgdon Mill Pond, Maine

We met our cousin, Rachel, and her son, Aaron, who kayaked with us.

Rachel and Aaron paddling Hodgdon Mill Pond at sunset

In a two mile round trip, we enjoyed quiet conversation and reminiscing about Dennis and Rachel’s childhood growing up in the Maine woods. There were memories shared of sunny days spent at family camp, kids’ silly happenstances and favorite breakfasts. Then there was the busy Sunday morning Aunt Jean forgot the skillet of trout cooking on the stove and went to church. Dennis and Cousin Rob woke up to find the house filled with smoke and the most awful smell, but found the culprit quickly. Oops!

Aaron enjoying the sunset

Time spent with family is a precious gift. When we can also share the gifts of beauty and nature right here in our own back yard – priceless.

Hodgdon Mill Pond, July 2015

Rachel overcomes Multiple Sclerosis to pursue her outdoors lifestyle

Rachel battles Multiple Sclerosis. I am thoroughly impressed with how well she tackles life with such determination and grace. She has a physical challenge, but it doesn’t keep her tied down. She has simply made adjustments and set herself up with the awesome tools available to her that allow her to continue to pursue the active outdoors lifestyle she enjoys. Rachel has become such an inspiration to me as I have followed her travels and her participation in many events to support MS awareness and research.

Rachel riding in the MS GREAT Maine Getaway Ride in Biddeford, ME at the University of New England

It was a beautiful evening to be on the water. We saw several female ducks followed by broods of fuzzy little ducklings. Ducks flew overhead as we floated, watching. The water reflected trees, grasses and water lilies and the most gorgeous sunset I’ve seen in a while.

Sunset on Hodgdon Mill Pond, Maine

Sunset on Hodgdon Mill Pond, Maine

Sunset on Hodgdon Mill Pond, Maine

“You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment. ”                                                                                                                                                  ~Henry David Thoreau

Outdoors Woman, Meet Outdoors Man: A Walk in the Clouds, Part 2

Air Rescue on Mount Katahdin’s Dudley Trail – Sunday, June 22, 2014

Chimney Pond, Baxter State Park

We go for the fun, the experience and to see the things we can only see from 5,000 or so feet in the air.

Views from Mount Katahdin

It’s the toughest physical challenge I’ve ever faced. Mountain climbing is not for the faint of heart but well worth the rewards. It’s also a dangerous sport, not to be taken lightly. Our degree of physical conditioning, difficulty of the terrain and sudden weather changes can’t always be predicted or controlled. Trails prove more difficult and time consuming than you sometimes expect. Flashlights for the “just in case we don’t make it back before dark” are an absolute must. We used ours this weekend. Accidents happen, and people get hurt. Sometimes people die.

Dudley Trail, Mount Katahdin

We climbed up the Dudley Trail, starting very early Sunday morning. Dennis and I are slower than the 20 year olds who bounce past us on trails, hurdling over rocks and boulders like they have springs in their shoes. I sometimes tease and poke fun at them when they speak to us. Fellow expeditioners seem to be quite a friendly and respectful group, so greetings and a few sentiments pass with most people who meet us on a trail. I called one of them a show-off as he was hopping down the rocks past us. He just looked up and grinned. When three older men breezed past us Sunday morning, I just shook my head, put my hand on my hip and thought, ‘Figures. They’re even faster than me! But I’m doing it, damn it. That’s something.”

Working our way up Dudley Trail, not even halfway to the top

I remember his face clearly. I moved over on the rock we shared for a brief moment to let him pass and told him to go ahead so he could catch up with his group. His face showed as much strain as mine did. I felt his pain! An hour or so later, we came upon a scene that turned my stomach.

The gray haired man was laying covered in layer after layer of blankets. There were blood stains on several rocks above him. He was moaning in pain. He didn’t speak English. We learned from his two friends that he is French Canadian. Several other hikers were sitting and standing around, waiting to see what they could do to help until the park ranger arrived from Chimney Pond. Dennis asked if they needed sleeping bags or an air pad. They had done all they could do until further helped arrived. He had fallen from a rock face, the rock face we were getting ready to climb, and landed 20 feet or so below in a crevice. He was bleeding from his head in several places, complaining of head and neck pain and couldn’t feel his legs.

I doubt it happens often in these situations, but there was a doctor standing at his head, working to stabilize him, keeping a check on his waning pulse. The doctor spoke French and kept him communicating as needed. No, I doubt it happens often, but what a relief that this particular doctor was on this particular mountain on this particular day.

The ranger arrived and took charge of the scene, communicating via radio with the rescue teams. Maine Army National Guard’s medical evacuation team was dispatched. Waiting on the side of a mountain with a severely injured man, indications of a probable spine injury, it seemed like the rescue helicopter took forever to arrive. My stomach was so sick, I didn’t think I could go on. I had no choice.

Maine Army National Guard’s Medical Evacuation Team

Another group, then finally Dennis and I were released from the scene, and the Ranger encouraged us to hike out the Helon Taylor Trail due to the late time of day. We decided that was really our only safe option, at that point. Trembling, I started to ascend the cliff the injured hiker had fallen from. Dennis, ordinarily climbing ahead of me to guide me through the tough spots, stood behind me this time. I said, “I don’t think I can. I’m scared.” I had tears in my eyes. I felt his breath in my hair as he whispered, “YES, you can.” As I lifted up over the first level, a pretty tough stretch for me, I felt his hands on my hips supporting me. It was the most comforting touch I’ve ever felt.

We climbed for quite a while, listening for the rescue team to arrive, hoping to get some photos of the actual extraction. When they blazed in, we were at a good vantage point well above the scene and took about an hour to sit, rest and watch them work. Hoping the man was still holding on. Thinking, with heavy heart, about what his future may look like. I’m still thinking of our fellow hiker and wondering how he’s doing. I hope to hear a positive report soon.

Maine Army National Guard’s Medical Evacuation Team at work

Maine Army National Guard’s Medical Evacuation Team at work

Maine Army National Guard’s Medical Evacuation Team at work

Injured hiker being lifted into the Blackhawk helicopter

We were still quite a long way from Pamola Peak and had to hike out from there, down the Helon Taylor Trail and out to Roaring Brook Campground where the Jeep was waiting for us. We had no idea how long our day would turn out to be.

To be continued…

Wordless Wednesday: Texas Cattle Country

Texas Cattle Country

Wordless Wednesday: Morning In My Kitchen

Morning in my kitchen

2014 Presque Isle Fish & Game Club Sportsman Show

There are many sportsman shows held throughout Maine each year, and this is one of the best I’ve attended. It’s nice that it is so close to home, too! I’m always pleased to see organizations bringing “the way life should be” to every county and corner in Maine. The community spirit in our state can’t be beat.

L.L. Bean Bootmobile

This year’s show in Presque Isle seems to have had more vendors than last year, and we found they have added a number of booths geared toward kids’ outdoor sports. That was a really nice surprise.

Trout fishing in the stocked “pond”

Alexander and Collin both caught small trout

Our son, Alexander and his friend, Collin had a blast! We enjoyed watching them. I was a bit disappointed that the archery booth was for youth only. I wanted to play!

Alexander got the balloon on his second shot!

The Gentile Building, University of Maine at Presque Isle, was filled with crafters, educators and numerous outdoor organization reps from various areas of the state.

Male Pheasant

The hand carved items were gorgeous!

Talented crafters displayed their unique creations.

A favorite activity for the boys was climbing the rock wall. I was glad to see our son and his friend gear up to climb. Hiking and mountain climbing are important parts of our lifestyle, and I hope to have my kids climbing Mount Katahdin with us one of these days!

Gearing up for rock wall climbing

Going up!

Alexander made it about half-way up the wall. Great effort for his first time climbing!

Collin’s turn climbing the wall!

He did great!

The wildlife displays were fantastic! Animal pelts to see, touch and identify were laid across several tables throughout the room. Educational and entertaining booklets were given out to the kids. I took one for me, too! I didn’t do as well as I should have identifying pelts from Muskrats and Fishers.

Animal Pelts

Caribou rack, black bear and fish mounts

Non-typical Trophy Mounts were quite impressive!

It was a great day with family, friends and community!

 

Outdoors Woman, Meet Outdoors Man: Sunbathing Northern Goshawk

Sunbathing Northern Goshawk, Aroostook County, Maine – what a beauty!

Winter Morning in Maine From Our Front Porch…

It’s a brisk winter morning in Maine, with the real temp hovering at -23° and windchill as low as -40°. Yep, it’s a bit chilly up here in The County!

My son, Alexander, tried to escape the house this morning without his hat and gloves. He was met at the door with, “Um, I don’t think so!” He missed the bus, but no child of mine is going out in this weather without proper safety gear. Yes, at these temps, it’s a matter of safety.

From the front porch – there is actually a large pond out there under that snow!

I got Alexander to school – properly bundled finally – then came home and did the outside chores while I was already half frozen. I poured hot water/grain mash to all the birds and added to the horse water, which is now controlled by the underwater heater to keep it thawed. I fixed up the dogs’ food with hot water and milk poured over, which they gladly lapped up after their morning constitutional outside.

Tori and Gunner love the snow!

Winter Views From Our Front Porch

Now I’m inside thawing out my toes and fingers, greatly appreciating our AMAZING wood stove and the generous and caring employer who keeps us in plenty of firewood every year. I think we’ve already been through more than the usual amount of wood used by this time most years, but the shed is still plenty full of the promise of warm, cozy fires to last the winter.

Gunner, our youngest bird dog, warming up by the fire!

This is a good day to settle into the couch with a hot cup of coffee and laptop and do some overdue editing from last fall’s modeling sessions. Hot soup and homemade bread for lunch! Winter model sessions begin next week, and I really hope it warms up to at least 15° (heatwave!) by then. I’m shooting Snow Babies sessions this month, but I’d like to not have my clients frozen to the ground when we’re done!

Life is COLD…but very good…in our little cabin in the Maine woods!

{this moment} Dennis and the Goshawk in the First Snow 2013

{this moment}

A Friday ritual. A single photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. If you’re inspired to do the same, leave a link to your ‘moment’ in the comments for all to find and see.

Dennis and Goshawk in the snow

Wordless Wednesday…

Training with Gunner, our new bird dog

Outdoors Woman, Meet Outdoors Man: We Lost Our Goshawk!

We lost AIM-9 one night recently. We were out late hunting her, and she had a great flight but lost her prey. We had Tori, our six year old Field Gordon Setter, with us. She got to help find the pheasant. It all went really well and was a great experience for both dog and bird. Then, as Dennis was putting the Goshawk back into her box to come home, she flew out, and her leash came untied!

Bells and telemetry had already been removed, so she was totally free and untrackable. She was a full bird, content, up in a tree…then another tree…then a tree a bit further. She wasn’t coming down, and it was getting dark. When it’s dark, they perch and stay put, so we knew she was there for the night. The problem was (other than the potential of losing her altogether) that her jesses were still clipped to both legs. She could easily get hung up on tree branches and die. That was inevitable, and Dennis knew it. He was just sick over it. He did some quick thinking, listed everything I needed to go get from home and sent me off while he kept trying to call our Goshawk down.

AIM-9 was looking to roost for the night.

I came home and got our camping gear, food for the bird and food for us, then went back to meet him in the woods. We spent the night on the hill just below the last place we saw her. We laid our sleeping bags on top of the field grass, laid talking quietly for a while, watching a sky full of stars. We saw several shooting stars. It was amazing, despite the unpleasant circumstances that caused our impromptu camp out. It was COLD. 36* that night, and we woke up to frost on the ground around us. We have great sleeping bags, though, and were warm and cozy even without our tent.

At the first daylight, he took the lure and whistle and started calling. After about twenty miserable minutes with her not making a single sound, us thinking she was gone and my stomach churning with worry, AIM-9 swooped over our heads and landed in a nearby tree. He called and swung the lure again, and she flew again twice, making her way closer. The last time she moved, she got hung up on a branch just as we knew she would. Again, my heart sunk, and I started brainstorming to figure out how we were going to get up that tree, reach her at the end of the flimsy branch she was hung on and free her. She fought and was able to work her way loose. She came down on the lure (thank goodness for great lure training!) and Dennis got her attached to the glove. That was the first time we breathed without our hearts in our throats all night.

Our Goshawk up a tree, calling her in to the lure.

Within half an hour, we were home and settled in, AIM-9 was quiet as a mouse on her high perch in the living room, and Dennis left for work. It was as if the whole awful episode never happened. Almost. Except in our minds as Dennis thought through the processes that we’d be changing before taking her out again so we could further insure her safe return home every night.

I was tired that morning and got a nice fire started in the woodstove. 36* in the woods that morning was COLD. Did I mention that? Yep, I love a warm fire!

Another day in our lives as I explore the Maine woods with this outdoorsman of mine!

Till next time…

Outdoors Woman, Meet Outdoors Man: A Walk in the Clouds, Part I

The day I told my best friend, Robin Follette, that I was going to climb that mountain one of these days, the idea sat in the bottom of my belly just like most “one of these days” statements that we all make. I knew it was never likely to happen. I was overweight. I was sorely out of shape. I was getting older by the minute. I have a bad knee. I’m *extremely* afraid of heights. Extremely! Any excuse I could think of would hold me back. I was certain of that, but it was a nice dream! We stood at Sandy Stream Pond that morning, took our photos of deer and landscape, then hiked the four-tenths of a mile back to the parking lot where warm vehicles were waiting for us. We drove the scenic roads in and around Baxter State Park and took some great photos of Mount Katahdin from a good safe ground level. Yep, one of these days!

From the time we met, Dennis and I started talking about climbing the mountain. I told him it was on “my list.” He has climbed it many times since the first trip up with his family when he was 12 years old. At 56, he was game to do it again! Nothing stops this outdoorsman of mine, and I was determined to not let (insert my long list of inexcusable excuses) stop me. So I announced on Facebook to all my friends and family, 2013 would be the year I climb. I was going to do it. Really! I am! Really???

Dennis called in April to reserve a couple of nights in a lean-to at Chimney Pond, and our official plan was hatched. I think that’s about when my knees first started shaking, but I was still excited about the prospect of overcoming Mount Katahdin. I had to do it – no excuses, as my life has taught me well. You push through the fears, push through the pain, push, push, push. It’s ALWAYS worth it in the end when your goals are accomplished and dreams realized. I had grave doubts that I’d be able to make it all the way to the peak, but I had to give it my best shot.

Gearing up to hike up Chimney Pond Trail, Baxter State Park

After a long spring in the woods, hiking miles on end on snowshoes then through wet terrain searching for Goshawk nests, my feet and legs had gotten much more adept at traipsing through the wilderness. I’m more sure-footed now than I was even six months ago. I found myself very glad for that when we started the 3.2 mile hike to Chimney Pond. Climbing up and over rocks and large boulders…NOT a walk in the woods! This 11 mile, 3,778 foot elevation gain, three day hike was the longest – and highest – I’ve ever made. I was in for the challenge of a lifetime, more so than I even realized.

 

Dennis decked out in Frogg Toggs rain gear and his pack

It was wet, wet, wet when we started up the long trail. We knew our first day of this adventure was going to be a washout according to the weather forecast, but this was the last weekend of the year that we were able to get reservations. Rain or shine, we were going! Dennis has a great deal of experience planning for a wide variety of outdoor conditions, so while I was shopping Saturday morning for a pair of pants to wear to a wedding I was photographing that evening, he was in sporting goods picking us up a couple of rain suits and a cover for my pack. He takes such good care of me!

Dennis is brutally honest and never sugar coats things for me, even when I wish he would! He had already warned me that this was the longest 3.3 miles he’s ever hiked. Knowing how many times he’s made this hike, I knew he was serious about that. In just this stretch of our journey, we would gain an elevation of 1425 feet. I learned that’s enough to get the heart pumping very quickly and requires a number of breather stops along the way.

Gorgeous Views Along the Chimney Pond Trail

No matter where you choose to sit and rest along the trails, there are unlimited views you will find absolutely enchanting!

Fall colors were spectacular in the park this weekend!

 

Bridges along the Chimney Pond Trail are a welcome sight after climbing boulders for long stretches!

Resting a minute, taking in the views not far from Chimney Pond Campground

We arrived at Chimney Pond to some of the most jaw-dropping views I’ve ever seen in my life. Dennis has told me for months, “I can’t wait to see your face when you first walk out onto Chimney Pond. You’re going to love it!” Now I knew why he was so eager to get me up there. Wow!

The Walk into Chimney Pond, Baxter State Park

The fall colors in the trees were really nice, but I was amazed at the variegated colors in the rocks. It was stunning!

 

Chimney Pond, Baxter State Park

In the backwoods of Maine, if you want or need it, you take it in your pack. Don’t take, do without! No bathrooms most places, no clean water source, no food, no heat, no shelter, no light after dark  – you get the picture. The caveat…if  you put it in your pack, you have to carry it all the way in and all the way out. The further you hike, the higher you climb, the heavier that freaking pack gets on your back and shoulders. Pack smart!

We took just enough for each meal we’d need for three days, including freeze dried soup, instant oatmeal, granola bars and Crystal Lite. We took a couple of empty drink bottles to fill at streams and ponds. Water would be boiled in a light aluminum pot on a single burner white gas stove (White gas is much lighter to carry than propane.) to kill the micro-organisms and to prepare our food. We found ourselves wishing we’d brought hot chocolate packets when our temps dropped to freezing the second night. Hindsight!

Filling water bottles at Chimney Pond

We packed one change of clothes, several pairs of socks in anticipation of wet feet off and on, down sleeping bags in compression sacks, sleeping pads, coats, flashlights and a few choice personal care items. Dennis has a saying. If you pay attention to the ounces, the pounds will take care of themselves. When you’re carrying a full backpack seven miles round trip, every single pound counts. Our bags were 14 pounds and 20 pounds. That was quite enough on the 1425 foot climb to Chimney Pond. I swore my bag gained ten pounds every mile we hiked. I was sure of it!

Checking in at the Chimney Pond Ranger’s Cabin – a cardinal rule of hiking. Safety is our responsibility when we venture into the wilderness. Always leave a paper trail. Look what happened to Hansel and Gretel!

We settled into Lean-to #4, got a fresh supply of water and ate some nice, warm soup for supper. As soon as darkness fell, we snuggled in to get a good night’s sleep. We’d need an early start the next morning for the next leg of our journey. Katahdin was looming over us all night…waiting…

 

 

 

Outdoors Woman, Meet Outdoors Man: Morning Coffee With Moose

After our land was cut last winter, we had high hopes that the wildlife would respond positively to the new growth provided for them. They have! Since the 12 acres of timber was harvested using a checkerboard pattern as wildlife management experts recommend in some situations, we’ve seen several moose up very near the house. We’ve spotted hares crossing the trails, heard ruffed grouse beating their wings in flight and have found a slew of tracks and scat out back.

Young calf makes a morning visit

Dennis’s focus for managing our property is primarily on falconry. He hoped to provide a suitable habitat for ruffed grouse and snowshoe hares that would eventually be hunted with the hawks. As we waited for the green to start popping up after the winter thaw, our fingers were crossed. We wanted (needed) LOTS of poplar regrowth. As the snow melted, the ground thawed and the shoots began to emerge, we knew the effort was a huge success! The regrowth and the emergence of wildlife outside our windows continues.

In addition to the prey base we’re looking out for, we’ve also seen a broad-winged hawk, a mature sharp-shinned hawk and an immature female goshawk, likely fledged from a nearby nest we’re yet to find as I continue to explore the surrounding woods with this outdoorsman of mine.

Till next time…

Outdoors Woman, Meet Outdoors Man: Life in the Making!

What a busy, hectic summer we’ve had! Sitting down to write? Why, that means staying home and missing out on exploration time!

West Quoddy Head – Lubec, Maine

We have been on the road every weekend, wandering around the nooks and crannies of Maine.

Moosehorn Wildlife Refuge

We’ve been on birding hikes with our club,  Aroostook Birders. We’ve camped in Acadia National Park, 11 of us, including our kids and grand kids. We  recently visited the decommissioned Loring Airforce Base where Dennis was born. Extremely cool place!

Gray seal, Herring Gulls, Bonaparte’s Gulls, Black-legged Kittiwakes – Atlantic Coast off of Eastport, Maine

We’ve enjoyed family birthday parties, canoed,  kayaked and fished with the kids. We’ve been raising and training AIM-9 every day. My,  has she grown!

AIM-9, our Northern Goshawk, at 8 weeks old

Now, we’re settling in for the impending birth of a new grandson, Gage Rue. Excited! Our days and weeks are filled to overflowing, and life is GREAT with this outdoorsman of mine!

I have so much to write and share, and I WILL sit down to write again…soon.

Till next time…

Outdoors Woman: Fishing With the Kiddos!

Victoria, Olivia, Alexander and I enjoyed a trip to a local “kids only” fishing pond this week. Victoria’s friend, Sarah, was along for the outing.

Fishing with my kids is a favorite activity. I think back to only three years ago when they cast lines in the water for the first time in their lives. We had moved to Maine to pursue an outdoors lifestyle, and we set about immediately, outing by outing, exploring new experiences. It took us a while to jump into fishing, but from the first cast, all three kids were hooked!

Victoria has become quite the competitive and avid fisherman since she was first introduced to fishing.

I remember sharing with my best friend, Robin, that I’d been wanting to get the kids out and teach them to fish. Her husband, Steve, showed up one afternoon with three brand new fishing poles. The kids were ecstatic, and I think Uncle Steve enjoyed it, too. We started fishing just about every body of water we could, every chance we got.

It didn’t take long that summer for the back end of my van to look like a rolling campsite. Everywhere we went, the ice chest, camp chairs, fishing poles, tackle box and assorted gear and necessities were readily available when we opened the back door. I often picked the kids up after school, ran a few errands, then ended up on a bank or dock somewhere. Lines were in the water, and we were laughing and enjoying sunny days together.

Liv caught a bullfrog pollywog in the edge of the pond this week.

I learned right away while out fishing with three kids that as the only adult in the bunch, I didn’t have time to fish. In the beginning, I spent the majority of my time baiting hooks, untangling lines, unhooking lures from rocks and weeds, and taking fish off hooks. I had to get creative, at times, to keep the chaos in check with three kids, fishing lines and sharp little hooks flying everywhere.

I taught them that if they were going to fish, they were going to learn to bait a hook…keep their lines untangled…and clean fish. So they learned to be more self-sufficient, and I bought myself a new fishing pole. I enjoy fishing, too! As one, two then three trout came out of the water on our afternoon fishing trip this week, there was only one argument…who GETS to gut the fish. They each took care of their own, and I sat back, watched, smiled. I’m a very proud mother of capable outdoors kids.

Pumpkin Sunfish

 

 

 

Outdoors Woman, Meet Outdoors Man: Inside the Gos Nest (Part II)

We got home and settled after the exciting morning in the woods retrieving our eyas goshawk. We were both tired and sore from the long hike through wet, muddy trails. Dennis felt the burn from his tree climbing task, but there was still work to be done.

Building a goshawk nest

Our baby needed a new nest and had to be fed as regularly as a human infant. With no adult male and female goshawks present now to provide food and proper accommodations, guess who became Mom and Dad with the charge of caring for this new baby and meeting all its needs. Dennis cut branches and formed a nest base, then lined it with soft, brown cedar boughs. Our gos would be living in this nest for weeks, and our charge would include keeping the nest properly lined and free of left-over debree from feeding times. Poop in the nest…not an issue.

The dining table in the middle of our kitchen was lined with plastic, the nest bowl set in the middle, and he went to work building the “Poop Containment System” now fondly known by friends and family as the PCS. I’m REALLY thankful Dennis is such a smart and skilled craftsman. Yes, goshawks poop. A lot. Not neat and tidy style. They back their butts up to the edge of the nest and project poop across the room. FAR across the room, getting farther by the day the larger she gets. Yes, it’s gross, but it’s all part of the process and the commitment to “deal” when we chose to raise an eyas gos to hunt with.

Dennis and the eyas goshawk getting to know each other

The baby goshawk doesn’t eat grain or other plant based food. From the beginning, a hawk is a carnivore and requires numerous meals each day consisting of raw meat. Until they are old enough to learn to hunt and kill for themselves, it’s a chore for Mom and Dad. A typical goshawk diet consists of birds and mammals such as pigeon, quail, ruffed grouse, ducks, squirrels, chipmunks, hares and many other small to medium sized quarry. Food sources may be hunted during legal seasons, raised or purchased from a number of suppliers. Our freezer is being filled with a mass of red squirrels knocked out at our bird feeders, quail  and pigeons we raise for the hawk.

I was well versed in raising and butchering my own chickens and turkeys, but I still had to get through the learning curve involved in processing small game. The first day I cut into a squirrel while Dennis was at work and unable to show me the process, I had a few “Ewwwww” moments. I kept cutting. When your baby is hungry and looking up at you with those big, round eyes, you suck it up and do what you must.

Processing a quail to feed AIM-9

We are feeding off of wings and carcasses to familiarize the gos with what “food” looks like in the wild. It’s a crucial part of her training that she recognize food and not associate eating with human hands and fingers, so we are very cautious in our approach when we feed. She can’t be allowed to see us placing food in her nest, because we value our fingers and have to look ahead to when she’s full grown, nearly 1000 grams in weight and can rip a hand apart with her beak if it looks food-like to her. No, raising and training a raptor is not for the sloppy, careless or faint of heart.

Eyas Goshawk feeding off of a squirrel carcass

While raising a goshawk intended to hunt successfully in cooperation with a falconer, socialization is extremely important. We placed our nest area in the busiest, central location in our home. The eyas gos doesn’t need to be shielded from human contact or tucked away in a dark, quiet area. Our kids, grandkids and dog, Tori, all work and live around AIM-9 on a daily basis. She spends as much time as possible in the middle of our living room floor, surrounded by newspapers to catch the projectiles. 

(The AIM-9 Sidewinder is an infrared homing, short-range, air-to-air missile)

Liv and the Eyas Goshawk

We encourage the kids to pet her, handle her wings, tail and feet gently with only one cardinal rule – they cannot pick her up. It is an insult and sure-fire screaming match for the gos to be picked up and must be avoided as much as possible in her handling. She is being raised as naturally as feasible to become the stealth killing machine she was born to be. I’m so eager to see the amazing creature she grows into in the weeks and months ahead!

I have shared in previous articles the reasoning behind choosing a female goshawk as opposed to a male for better hunting capabilities. After an unsuccessful attempt to train and hunt with a tiercel, Dennis was adamant in choosing a female eyas this year. We chose to go the route of sending off DNA samples to a biotech lab for accurate sexing so there was no guess-work involved. We waited impatiently between Saturday and Tuesday afternoon…very impatiently! I checked, re-checked and checked again for the results to be posted online. We kept thinking and talking about that one little baby gos we left behind in the nest, surrounded by the wild and so many predators. What if…

What if the eyas we brought home was male? What if the little nestling turned out to be the female and we went back to find her gone, the nest empty. What if Jimmy G went home with the only female and our baby AND the nestling were both male? What would be our Plan B? Would we return a tiercel to the nest and just try again next year or would we attempt another training with a male? In dealing with nature, anything is possible and nothing at all is predictable.

Around 5pm, just before going outside to watch the girls work with the horses, I took one more look at our account online at Avian Biotech. There it was! OMG, THERE IT WAS!

Dennis: Male

Jimmy: Male

Nestling: Female

I could hardly breathe on my way down to the pasture to tell Dennis the news. There WAS a female in that clutch, and she was still 35 feet up that Ash tree in the nest that I only hoped was still intact and safe for her. I told Dennis with tears in my eyes, and he immediately flew into action. It was nearing dark, but we weren’t wasting another day getting back to that tree. We loaded the climbing gear and the tiercel male we’d been caring for and headed to the woods. We KNEW it. We just had a feeling that was going to be the case after the visual IDs left us all thinking the chicks we took were probably male.

Of course, this nest was down the longest, most difficult hiking trail in our  inventory of nest sites. It was a long, hard walk that was reallllly slow going for me. I told Dennis to go ahead. I’d catch up. He needed to gear up and could be ahead of me and ready as soon as I reached the tree. I mushed on behind him, quickly losing sight of him as I battled thick masses of mosquitoes and even thicker, deeper mud. My Mucks sunk up so deeply I had to wiggle and pull my feet out of the ground at times. I don’t think any of the times past that we’ve walked that particular trail took half as long as it seemed to take that day, knowing (hoping) our little huntress was waiting at the end of the walk.

I finally reached him, all ready to climb, ropes around the tree holding him securely. He headed up. The female goshawk was circling and kakking at him before his feet left the ground. That was a great sign! I was able to photograph her for the first time that day. She’s been super stealth all other times we’ve heard and caught glimpses of her. That day she wasn’t screwing around!

AIM-9’s Mama is a smart, fierce, absolutely gorgeous goshawk!

He reached the nest to find the baby there, our little female eyas goshawk! He was securing himself to the tree to begin the swapping of babies, Mama Gos circling and screaming at him. We both heard her coming in, and I was trying to get my eyes and camera on her when suddenly, there she was!

Dennis had just turned to see her coming at him in time to get hit, head on. She hit him with such force that he saw stars, and I heard the thud. I couldn’t get my camera up fast enough, but breathed a sigh of relief that he was still securely attached to the tree. If he had been untied during that impact, I’m certain she’d have knocked him out of the tree. So there it was! He’d been hoping for some battle scars to take away from this experience, worn as badges of honor. Boy, did he get rewarded that day!

Dennis after goshawk attack while retrieving our female eyas gos

We brought home a prized female goshawk. She came to us through blood, sweat, tears and miles upon miles of hiking, hunting and priceless time spent together in the woods. I’m settling well into the task and joy of raising a special hunting partner with this outdoorsman of mine leading the endeavor and training me and her both as we go along. She is already growing and learning incredibly fast! What an adventure!

AIM-9 at 16 days

Till next time…

Outdoors Woman, Meet Outdoors Man: Inside the Gos Nest (Part I)

We started our hunt in March. Snow was up to our thighs in many places deep in the Maine woods. Brooks and streams were still frozen, and we were walking with snowshoes and sometimes without on top of hard crust. At times, we broke through and buried up to our asses. We were bundled up to our eyeballs and sitting against trees on zero degree mornings before daylight, listening for those unique courtship vocalizations. We logged no telling how many miles of hiking in our search for goshawk territories. We discovered 15 nests and concluded that we had three active pairs. We knew, regardless of our successful finds, that we may come up empty-handed when it became time to retrieve a female eyas gos. We still hunted.

Goshawk nest hunting in April just before sunset

Dennis and I sat in our usual seats eating desserts at the counter at Grammy’s Country Inn as a wicked storm cell blew through that Friday night. We heard the wind roaring and rain beating down. Fallen apple blossoms were swirling in the air. We watched through the window, looked at each other and shook our heads. We were concerned about our baby gos filled nests being damaged before we could get back to them the next morning to bring our eyas home. I felt like an expectant mother who had just run into complications, and it was nerve-wracking. It turned into a long night of restless sleep and a phone call at 3:30 in the morning to get us up and running.

We were joined by a couple of Dennis’s falconer friends for this excursion. Jimmy G came up with hopes of acquiring his own eyas goshawk if our nests proved reliable. Mark taught biology at Bonny Eagle High School in Standish, Maine and has become quite the expert on these birds of prey. He has proven highly reliable in distinguishing the males from females in their earliest stages. I was looking forward to watching these guys in action and learning all I could. Also along on this trip were good friends of Jimmy. Sean, who works as an arborist, came to climb one of the two trees, and Kyle wanted to come along for the ride to check out this falconry thing. Before they left, he’d been well indoctrinated and sounded like he’d been bitten by the bug. I could totally relate!

Dennis gearing up to climb up to the first nest while I checked out the claw marks left by a predator that had tried to get past the tin barrier we’d placed to help protect the nest.

We hiked to our first nest site just after sunrise on this warm and humid June morning. The mosquitoes were relentless, making their way through multiple layers of bug spray. The ground was wet and slippery, our jeans quickly soaked through. We were all so excited and hopeful of going home with the coveted babies that inconveniences and discomforts were easily overlooked. Our eyes were on the prize!

We got to the yellow birch that housed our first nest, and Dennis got his gear together, put on spikes and ropes and started the 45 foot climb. He secretly hoped the female would hit him, and he’d get a nice badge of honor (scar) to sport after this adventure. Ok, maybe it was no secret wish. I think he told everyone he talked to leading up to the big day. I secretly (or not) hoped he’d get through this day without a scratch.

I checked out the tin we’d placed on a previous visit to help secure the nest, and it became clear to me why we take that extra step. There were claw marks in several places on the tin where a predator had attempted to climb the tree. We hoped it hadn’t made it past the barrier. We’d know soon.

Dennis climbed the slippery yellow birch to see what was in Nest #1

We watched anxiously, our necks bending further and further back the higher Dennis got. He has no fear of heights. I actually think he has no fear of anything! Me…terribly afraid of heights. I was antsy watching him climb the wet, birch with its slippery peeling bark. He slipped and slid part of the way down the tree once, taking my breath away. I don’t think I breathed again until his feet were back on the ground.

Jimmy G watching patiently…or impatiently!

We waited until he reached the nest. The mama goshawk soared, circled and kakked away at him, but she never went near him. I watched her closely. We were silent, expecting his announcement any moment now. He said quietly, “Shit.” The nest had only one baby gos, roughly 12 days old at best guess. After looking it over for a few minutes, Dennis decided it was most likely a tiercel (male). It was not what we were looking for, but being the only eyas in the nest, we weren’t allowed to remove it anyway. Disappointment was felt in the air and on the ground. He began the climb down as we prepared to move on to the next – and last – active nest site.

Sean prepares to climb to the second nest.

This was our last chance to acquire an eyas gos this season, so we were all anxious about what we’d find up that tree. Sean geared up to climb, Dennis prepped the basket to lower babies down from the nest, and the rest of us scoped out the area while watching and listening for the mama. We checked out the tin on this tree and determined that a bear was the culprit for the damage found there. It left a paw print behind! A bear wouldn’t have been after the babies but may have simply been curious to check out the funny looking Ash tree with a black band.

A bear tried to climb the tree, pulled the tin down a couple of inches and bent it up. Mark takes a good look at it.

Bear paw print

Sean was up the tree before we knew it. We waited for the word. Two babies. Three babies! We put a couple of our cameras in the transport box and he pulled it up by its rope to get a few shots of the hawks in their nest before lowering the babies down for inspection to determine the sexes. Not many people will ever be lucky enough to see an eyas gos in person, much less have a bird’s eye view of their nest. How cool!

Three eyas goshawks in their nest near the top of an Ash tree

Sean lowered the nestlings down and Dennis, Mark and Jim went to work immediately looking them over. At such a young age, sexing these birds is a challenging task. It takes a lot of experience looking at a variety of them to get a feel for spotting the extremely subtle differences between males and females. After the best guess, it’s still an absolute crap shoot without DNA testing. We had already decided that’s what we’d do, no matter how certain we may be of what we were looking at.

Inspecting the nestlings to determine sex

The guys decided we were looking at two of the same sex in the first hatchlings, which were a good bit larger than the little bitty one. Judging by the shape of their heads, beaks and the length of feathering down the tarsi, it was decided they were likely tiercels. The little one was nearly impossible to sex due to the small size. That nestling was only a day old.

They clipped a talon on each eyas to collect a few drops of blood. We decided to take the two larger birds so we’d have an imprint to work with (male or female) in case something happened to the nest before the DNA results were in. We may just be stuck with a male unless we opted to return it to the nest based on the test results. Dennis and Jim would make that decision when the time came.

DNA samples were collected from the three baby goshawks.

Sean repelled out of the Ash, we secured our gos babies in the carrier so they’d be safe and warm, and we headed out of the woods.

Sean repels out of the Ash tree.

We had to get home, get the babies set up and finish the paperwork for the DNA testing. We wanted to get to the post office before it closed so we could expedite shipping. That done, our very happy group of adventurers headed to Grammy’s for lunch. Job well done through some awesome teamwork! Now the hard part…waiting.

Proud goshawk mama

The guys escaped attack from both female goshawks that day, but Dennis didn’t fare so well on our trip out a few days later. Check back next week for the DNA results and to hear the rest of the story when I tell you about my greatest outing of all time with this outdoorsman of mine!

Till next time…

Outdoors Woman, Meet Outdoors Man: Exploring Our Own Backyard

The sunny afternoon drive back to Hodgdon was nice after our morning on the water with friends at Tomah Stream.

Low geared for a good time!

That was the furthest I’d paddled so far, so my arms were sore. I think Dennis and I both yawned all the way back. The plan was to swap canoes with Joe and his friend, Jon, then head home to rest for a while before picking up the rest of the kids. As usual, we got a little sidetracked with the scenic route!

Joe and Jon enjoying fishing Hodgdon Mill Pond every chance they get.

We pulled in at Hodgdon Mill Pond and saw the boys out in their canoe, lines in the water. They usually catch a slew of big pickerel at this location, and it makes for many hours of enjoyable time on the water for Joe, my girls who often go out with him and a number of his friends who get to tag along.

Dennis and Joe have been observing the activity around this pond for years. They have seen quite a variety of animals, water fowl and small birds that inhabit the area. They have seen moose, deer, beaver, otter, muskrat, mink, Canada geese and loons.

American Bittern

The ducks commonly found on Mill Pond are Black Ducks, Mallards, Golden-eye, Ring-necks, Wood ducks, Common Mergansers, Hooded Mergansers, Green-winged Teal and Blue-winged Teal.

Wood Duck

Among the birds seen over the years are common grackles, red-winged blackbirds, American Bittern, Great Blue Heron, Osprey, Turkey vultures, Broad-winged Hawks, Red-shouldered Hawks, Red-tailed Hawks, Sharp-shinned Hawks, Goshawks and the incredible and always impressive Bald Eagle.

Red-winged blackbird

For some time now Dennis, an avid nest watcher, has watched two eagle’s nests that rest near the top of eastern white pines (Pinus Strobus). There have been a number of clutches of eaglets hatched between these two nests. I had never seen baby eagles, so I was hoping it was still active this year and they’d hatched. Dennis was really hoping to be able to show them to me. I think he gets just as excited as I do when he’s able to show me new things and give me the chance to photograph such cool sights!

We paddled out and began to turn back toward the shoreline, as Dennis pointed out the nest. I arched my neck to see it, but had trouble spotting it against the sun. When I finally saw it, I was amazed at how large it was! This was the first eagle’s nest I’d seen from such a close distance. Impressive!

Eagle’s Nest in Eastern White Pine at Hodgdon Mill Pond

An eagle’s nest is generally several feet in diameter and can weigh 1000 pounds or more. It’s no little bird’s nest hanging onto a tree branch, yet it can still be difficult to see amongst the thick branches and greenery of the old growth coniferous trees they seem to prefer for roosting and nesting. Nests are found on or near bodies of water that provide plenty of fish for the eagle’s diet as this is their primary food source.

We moved around to the other side and tried to get to a spot where I could see and photograph it without the sun coming directly at me. When we got to the other side of the tree and looked up, there they were! We saw a mature female eagle and one of her young perched near the edge of the nest. It looked as if she was feeding the eaglet.

Eagle caring for her young

The sight was just amazing! Before moving to Maine, I’d only seen one eagle in my lifetime. It was housed in a “natural habitat” exhibit at the Houston Zoo. I was so sad to see this incredible creature surrounded by bars, manmade rock, “naturalistic” water formations and fake wooden perches, never allowed to soar and hunt as is natural to its existence.

THIS is the way an eagle should be seen, in its natural habitat. I’ve seen many eagles soaring overhead, fishing in the ocean and perched in trees. Now I’ve seen eaglets in the nest.

Mature female eagle and her young eaglet

We’ll be going back to check on this nest and watch the babies as they grow and eventually fledge. I can’t wait to see them again when we’re back on the water, but it won’t be this weekend. It’s finally just about time to go back into our gos nest sites and retrieve the eyas goshawk we’ll be raising and training to hunt. Check back for the photos and to hear all about the exciting experience we have coming up this weekend as this outdoorsman of mine goes back up the tree to meet a female gos that will be defending her nest while he attempts to remove one of her babies. They’ll likely end up face to face…or talons to face! Yep, I’m nervous!

Till next time…

 

 

Outdoors Woman, Meet Outdoors Man: Views From The Canoe

Dennis and I spent most of Sunday paddling. We enjoyed the morning with friends on Tomah Stream in Codyville then took a detour on the way home and ended up back on the water at Hodgdon Mill Pond near our home. It was a great day, and I had time on the water unlike any I’d experienced in my short history of kayaking and canoeing. I’d only paddled on ponds and lakes, so the stream was new and different.

Ready to go!

Tammy and Dennis on Tomah Stream, Codyville, Maine

The twists and turns, doubling back and forth, winding waterway and surprise views around every bend was just my kind of adventure! Being so near water level while paddling along stream banks and meadows of tussock sedge offers such a unique view and some really cool photo ops.

Canoeing Tomah Stream

The group on Tomah Stream

It’s nice to enjoy a slow-paced trip down a waterway. Enjoying it with friends, laughing, chatting, goofing off…even better!

Felicia and Steve paddling along beside us for a bit

Taylor has been paddling since she was a little girl. Quite the pro!

Tussock Sedge Meadows

As we traveled along the stream, we saw many trails out of the water, muddied paths forged through the grasses where beaver, otter and other animals have wandered through the meadows. There were a number of beaver lodges along the way, more than I’d ever seen in one place. None were inhabited, and we only spotted one feedbed suggesting recent use. They were quite impressive structures to look at.

Beaver Lodge

The rich and diverse habitat along Tomah Stream makes a great home to local wildlife such as beaver, otter, Canada geese, a variety of ducks, birds and the unique Tomah Mayfly. We hoped to spot one of these creatures, an endangered species only found in a handful of locations in Maine, but we were too early in the season. We’ll be going back!

Canada Geese

 

Canada Geese in Flight

Another elusive creature I’ve been trying to get a good photo of is not on the endangered list, but it sure disappears quickly when I aim my lens at it. The Red-winged Blackbird caught my eye about three years ago when visiting Moosehorn Wildlife Refuge just outside of Calais, Maine. This flashy little bird literally caught my eye…the corner of my eye…on a trip to photograph the scenery at Moosehorn one morning. I spotted a flash of bright red as the blackbird buzzed by, and I thought I was seeing things. After a few more trips and some research, I learned its identity and set out trying to capture it in photos. I was happy this weekend to find so many of them out and about and was finally able to get eye level with them to catch my shot.

Red-winged Blackbird

I was a little disappointed to see the end of our paddle down Tomah that day. The trip was a little shorter than we had anticipated. It will be a good excuse to go back soon!

End of the stream for us

We hauled out the canoes and kayaks, enjoyed a picnic lunch with the gang then loaded to head home. We stopped in to exchange canoes with Dennis’s son, Joe, who had been fishing with a friend. While we were waiting for the guys to come across the pond to meet us, I was thrilled when Dennis said, “Let’s go out for a few minutes and see if we can see the eagles on the nest.” So we put in again. I couldn’t believe what I got to see for the first time in my life while paddling at Hodgdon Mill Pond with this outdoorsman of mine!

Till next time…

Outdoors Woman, Meet Outdoors Man: On The Nest

It’s almost time for the goshawk eggs to hatch, though all our guesses about this timing are just that – guesses. We hiked into our two active sites to look for a couple of key signs. When the eggs hatch, the female will typically come off the nest and go into attack mode defending her young. There would also be mutes, baby gos poop, on the ground around the tree. Neither of these signs were there today, but I was thrilled to get a great look at mama…while she was keeping one eye on me! She’s a beauty!

Female Goshawk on Eggs

Outdoors Woman, Meet Outdoors Man: Incoming! (Part II)

The disappointment of the day before dampened my enthusiasm when we went  into the woods to check on the nesting tree we hoped to tin this evening. I plugged away beside Dennis as always, crossed my fingers and hoped, but I had no real expectations that we’d find what we were hunting for.

We found three nests at this location in the week or so leading up to this visit, but there was no sighting or sounds of a gos in the area during that trip. The newest nest didn’t show signs of fresh materials, so we really had no idea if there was still an active pair in this territory. Dennis decided it was a good idea to go in early one morning to sit and listen and see if he heard any of their pre-sunrise vocalizations before counting too heavily on this being a good location.

He went in before work one morning, got within a few hundred feet of the nest that looked like the newest construction, sat down on a fallen tree and waited.  In the final two minutes before sunrise, a tiercel goshawk swooped down the trail in front of him. The gos was carrying food and landed on the ground about midway between Dennis and the prospective nest. He heard the tiercel call, so he backed out of the woods and left. That was all he needed to confirm that location as an active territory.

We went back a few days later. Dennis lugged the backpack filled with supplies, determined to get this one confirmed with eggs and tinned. A backpack filled with a roll of tin, moth balls, a can of black spray paint, binoculars, duct tape and climbing gear can be extremely heavy! That’s what it takes to do this right, and Dennis won’t do a half-assed job of anything. I’ve come to admire and greatly appreciate this about him.

Headed in to find an active nest…hopefully!

We walked quietly down the old road and into the clearing to the nest. He dropped the backpack and got the binoculars, I pulled out the camera, and we started scanning the nest for the activity we should be able to see. Well… We SHOULD see something. Hmmm, there was still no sign of fresh materials, and no sign of the female. After doing a 360° around the tree, Dennis stood off a bit to watch the nest, and I took a stick and hit the tree a couple of times. Nothing. Nothing at all. I probably heaved a pretty big sigh at that point.

After seeing and hearing the tiercel a few days earlier, there was no doubt this was the active area. The forests in Maine go on for countless miles. Remember, this nest hunting process is looking for a teeny, tiny needle in a massive haystack. We knew it was there somewhere. We just had to keep searching. Just as we did at location #1, we went back to the spot Dennis sat a few days earlier, set our sights in the direction the tiercel gos went down with his prey and headed that way. We didn’t have much daylight left, but we’d make use of every second until we HAD to leave or until we found that nest. Giving up on this location wasn’t even an option.

We wandered around for a while, searching the crotches of every hardwood tree in that stretch of woods. We made a circle out and around the nest we just ruled out and came along the backside of that area. I spotted a nest through the trees, but upon inspection, Dennis decided it was most likely a raven’s nest. We bushwacked, climbing over fallen trees, and I was stumbling around rocks and crevices. We got a bit separated, but I could hear when Dennis whistled to me through the trees. I was making my way toward him. Then we heard it. It stopped us both dead in our tracks and had us looking skyward.

Kak! Kak! Kak! Kak! The tiercel flew fast over our heads and swooped down toward the old road. I didn’t know at the time, but Dennis had whistled because he saw another nest ahead. He was waiting for me to catch up so we could check it out, but with this fly-by, we knew we were in the right spot! We hurried toward the nest while the tiercel flew over screaming at us a couple more times.

Tiercel goshawk defending the nest

I knew getting hit by a gos defending a nest is highly likely, so I was watching and prepared. We leaned into a nearby tree and scoped out the nest. There were green and down easily visible, and there was something else this time. While Dennis ran back up the road to get the backpack, I kept watch on the nest to make sure the female didn’t leave undetected. I watched through my camera, as always and saw movement in the nest. I watched closely and saw her head moving back and forth, likely watching me as closely as I was watching her. Unbelievable moment for me! My heart raced. WHO GETS TO EXPERIENCE THESE THINGS? “Awestruck” doesn’t come close.

Female goshawk on eggs

When I figured out that the movement was her head, I could make out the outline of her back leading to the left, her long tail sticking out just above the nestline. It was amazing to view! Dennis got back with the supplies, and we went quickly to the base of the tree.

Getting the tinning supplies out quickly.

He pulled out the duct tape and tin and started the process of wrapping the tree to lend a human hand in helping to protect the nest and its precious contents from predators.

Dennis quickly works to tin the tree and get us out of there.

As soon as he started wrapping the duct tape around the trunk of the tree, the female lifted off the nest and flew up above us into a neighboring tree, screaming fiercely. Kak! Kak! Kak! Kak! I snapped some photos, hands shaking from the adrenaline. As the female screamed and Dennis worked quickly, the tiercel flew over again and landed in a tree to our backs.

Tiercel gos defending his nest, trying to drive us out of his territory.

Both goshawks now in quite an uproar and screaming at us almost constantly, we worked as fast as we could to complete our task and get out of there. Dennis painted the tin black so it wasn’t quite so visible through the trees to anyone else who may wander through the woods.

Black tin in the woods doesn’t stand out quite as much.

I spread moth balls on the ground at the base of the tree to mask the scents and hopefully deter predators from that area.

Moth balls around the base of the tree are said to deter predators from ransacking the nests.

Mission accomplished! We hiked back to the jeep, all smiles, pumped up on adrenaline and more than just a little excited about our experience. I sat down and chugged a bottle of water. Dennis climbed in and squeezed my hand. It was a great day in the woods with this outdoorsman of mine!

Till next time…

Outdoors Woman, Meet Outdoors Man: Incoming! (Part I)

Finding a goshawk nest does not mean you have found a goshawk. Hearing a gos in the area – still not a sure thing. There is only one way to know definitively that you have, in fact, found an active nest. You have to see the goshawk in the nest. And even then, nature can be cold, cruel and unpredictable in the end. Eyas gos in your basket…now you’re getting somewhere!

We’ve found three nest sites this spring, but finding the active nest is the big goal after the egg laying stage. You can sometimes tell which is going to be the active nest by getting close-up views with binoculars if you’re able to see down or fresh greenery in the nest, but that isn’t always the case.

As of this week, Dennis and I have viewed 13 gos nests, have heard six goshawks kakking and have actually seen three this spring. I am reading, hearing and have come to realize how rare (and completely cool!) these experiences are. Most people never see or hear a goshawk in an entire lifetime, and I’ve had the great fortune of encountering this many in my first spring while learning and pursuing falconry with Dennis. Yep, I consider myself one lucky (and happy) woman. Cruising through the woods in search of gos nests with a skilled and knowledgeable hunter makes all the difference!

Some of our outings have been a lot of bushwacking and enjoying the woods around us, with very little excitement or progress toward our goal to show for our efforts. Sometimes, it’s been downright disappointing. We go anyway. Time spent in the beauty and serenity of the woods is better than time spent anywhere else.

Serenity in the woods

And then there have been times we’ve gone out, not sure what we’d experience, and end up so pumped up on the rush and thrill of the hunt and missions accomplished that we can hardly contain ourselves and return to the jeep with beaming smiles, chatting away about our excursion. Let me tell you about two of our evenings in the woods last week!

Once Dennis knew it was the right time frame for egg laying to be complete, our next task was to go back into each of the nest locations we’ve spent hours scouting out, find the nest the female is using for the year and get the tree tinned to help protect the nest, mama and her eggs. Nesting 30-50 feet up in a tree may help protect the nest from some dangers, but they are still easy prey for predators like raccoons, martens, bobcats and fishers. Last week, we went in to find the active nests, and met with some excitement!

We first visited the nest we thought most likely to be the active this year near the location where we heard the pair of goshawks during their courtship vocalizations. We stood back, looked around the top and edges of the nest with the binoculars and saw no signs of activity. Dennis took a stick and tapped the base of the tree while I watch through the binoculars. Nothing. Dammit.

We went back and checked last year’s nest where he’d retrieved Kahn, but there was no sign of activity there, either. We decided to go back to the hemlock tree where we sat that first morning in March and listened to the courtship vocalizations, get a bearing on the GPS and go searching again in that exact direction. He set a course and off we went through the woods. We hiked and searched only a little ways in, and there it was! We found a nest right in line with the location we’d originally heard them, and the nest looked highly promising. It was lined with fresh greenery and down.

Goshawk nest at the site of the pair we heard during their courtship stage.

Looking at the condition of this nest, we expected to find a female on eggs, but no sign of her! No sign, no problem. Dennis explained that sometimes the female sits so low in the nest that you may not be able to see her or even catch a glimpse of her tail hanging over. The next step in this process was for him to climb a nearby tree to get a better look and verify before counting this as our nest and tinning the tree. But we knew this was our nest, because we’d seen the greenery and down, so she had to be there.

Dennis and my son, Alexander, checking out the nest.

He geared up and headed up a hemlock a few trees over.

Dennis gearing up to climb

He climbed while I watched, my eyes darting back and forth between the nest and him climbing a REALLY tall hemlock, my fear of heights – and him falling -kicking into full overdrive at this point. I watched to make sure the female gos didn’t fly off the nest during this intrusion. They can disappear into the woods quickly and silently, and we’d have been none the wiser without keeping an eye out.

I was anxious to get the thumbs up from him when he reached eye level with the nest. I waited. I watched. I held my breath. Well???

Dennis near the top of the hemlock tree

He sat near the top of the tree for a few minutes before looking down at me and shaking his head…NO. What? NO! Ugh. We’d been so sure of this particular location, moreso than any of our others up to this point, because all the signs were right.

I sat on the ground and checked out the little wildflowers popping up through brown leaves around me while Alexander squirmed restlessly a few feet away, sitting on a tree stump.

Trout Lily

 

We waited while Dennis made a slow descent from the tree, eager to hear what he’d found. I hated seeing that disappointed look on his face. I know how hard he works at this lifestyle and the countless miles and hours he has put in over the years scouring these woods and practicing careful husbandry and wildlife management. Score one for Mother Nature this time. There was no female gos and no eggs. The nest was empty, lined well with fresh greenery and down but that was it. My heart sunk in my chest a little. What a disappointment. We lost this one.

It was nearing dark, and after a short trek through the surrounding woods just to see if we could spot another nest nearby, we made our way back to the jeep. He decided this must have been the active nest, and it was likely ransacked by a predator that ate the eggs. That’s the only reasonable explanation we can think of. We only hope the female has survived, and we can find her still in her home territory and ready to lay again next year.

We planned our trip out for the next evening to check the nest at our second location. Supplies were left in the jeep, ready to go when he got home from work the next day. We’d try this again, hopefully with success on the next trip out with this outdoorsman of mine.

Check back this weekend to read Part 2…till next time!

Party At Our Bird Feeder!

It’s a never-ending party at our bird feeder this spring! Here are a few of the recent visitors we’ve seen this week.

Male Purple Finch

Female Purple Finch

American Goldfinch

White Throated Sparrow

Common Redpoll

Female Cowbird

Outdoors Woman, Meet Outdoors Man: One Crazy, Busy Summer!

Winter didn’t slow us down too much, and spring has been hopping with Dennis and I going out weekly in search of goshawk nests. Finding three nest sites and identifying three active pairs of goshawks during mating season made for one exciting prelude to the upcoming season.

Looking at our calendar, it’s shaping up to be one crazy, busy summer! I’ve started a list of dates on a sheet of paper on the fridge. I think I’m going to need a bigger sheet of paper since we keep adding to our list of events. In addition to our personal outings for nest hunting and goshawk selection, camping and hiking through Big Reed Pond Forest Preserve, baby shower, birthdays, camping at Chimney Pond and climbing Mount Katahdin, a family camping trip to Acadia National Park, canoeing, kayaking and fishing every chance we get, raising and training a goshawk and the upcoming birth of a grandbaby…deep breath…we have several daytrips planned with our birding group.

Dennis and I are members of the group, the Aroostook Birders. (Also on Facebook!) The group, led by President and bird expert, Bill Sheehan, is a highly active group. Spring and summer events are getting into full swing, and we’re really looking forward to some of the outings we have scheduled.

Aroostook Birders Waterfowl Walk

Saturday, we drove up to Fort Fairfield for a waterfowl walk and enjoyed a perfect, sunny spring morning checking out a large variety of local wildlife. The focus of the morning was on waterfowl, but we spotted quite a few beautiful birds that trip, including a nice display of raptors.

Wildlife gazing with the group

I am admittedly not the greatest wildlife photographer, but I don’t think I put the camera down most of the time we were out. It’s pure love of nature and my fascination with wildlife that keeps me shooting!

Immature bald eagle

We visited Nadeau Pond, Lake Josephine and Puddledock Pond. There were many species of waterfowl that I’d never seen before. Of course, Dennis was able to identify most of them. We watched a beautiful pair of Redhead ducks, Northern Shovelers, American Wigeons, Gadwalls, Ring-necked Duck, Common Goldeneye, Common and Hooded Mergansers, Green-winged Teal, Mallards and Blacks.

Ring-necked ducks

There were also our more common Canada geese in abundance.

Canada Geese Galore

Common Loon

Male Mallard

There were Common Loons, Double-crested Cormorants, Belted Kingfishers and Brown Thrashers dropping by off and on.

Double Crested Cormorant

Belted Kingfisher

We weren’t the only folks enjoying the morning on the water!

We watched a huge American Bittern trying to hide in the tall grass at Puddledock Pond in Fort Fairfield. He fooled no-one!

American Bittern in camo!

We enjoyed seeing a number of impressive raptors, including Northern Harriers, Ospreys, American Kestrel, Merlin, Red-tailed Hawk and a Bald Eagle.

Dennis got this nice shot of a kestrel while we were on our way home.

Dennis and I took the long way home after our morning with the group. There is an “alternate route” involved most every time we strike out for a drive together in the Jeep that will get us just about anywhere we want to go. There is a saying here in Maine, “You can’t get there from here.” Pfft! No problem so far! On road or off, there is no end to the sights, sounds and adventures we can find to entertain ourselves. It’s all in a day’s play with this outdoorsman of mine!

Till next time…

(For more info on how to become involved with the group, Aroostook Birders, please visit the WEBSITE and check out what we may have going on in your neck of the woods.)

Outdoors Woman, Meet Outdoors Man: The Search Continues, Part II

Dennis and I were up and out again bright and early Sunday morning. Ok, not bright – still pitch dark out – but 4am is definintely early. We were eager to get back into the woods and hike in closer to the area the unidentified bird sounds were coming from the morning before. We both had a hunch.

Sunrise would be shortly after 6:00, and we needed to be well into the woods and as close as we could to where the bird sounded off. Dennis recognized that the sound had come from the direction he’d found a nest many years ago, so he knew just the area we needed to get to that morning. We got to the beginning of the old logging road, climbed out of our warm Jeep and into the frigid morning air and geared up.

We decided to go in on snowshoes this time, not knowing exactly how long we’d be in the woods searching and listening or the ground conditions we’d find the further in we got. Snowshoes made hiking in much easier. Picking our way through the woods, over fallen limbs, rises in the snow and the partially frozen brook, we continued looking up in to the trees hoping to spot the coveted needle in the haystack. Roughly 3/4 of a mile into the woods Dennis looked up through the treeline in front of us, and there it was! The silouette of a large nest about 35 feet up an ash tree stood out clearly against the slowly brightening sky.

We are thrilled at our newest goshawk nest discovery!

He checked out the nest, and we got a couple of pictures of it with my cell phone. After seeing it up close, Dennis decided it’s an old nest, probably last year’s. We stood quietly observing, listening, taking in the thrill of the find, but we knew that was no real indication of an active pair of goshawks in the area. We started to move on a bit further and had barely made new tracks along the brook when he spotted a second nest!

This nest was in a maple tree and within sight of the first, approximately 200 feet away, we guessed. Upon inspection, we agreed it was a new nest under construction. This is a great find! We didn’t want to go any further with the liklihood of a pair of goshawks being nearby, so we crossed back over the brook and sat down on a fallen tree to listen for courtship vocalizations. We hadn’t been there more than five minutes when we heard the scream of a tiercel (male) gos…KAK KAK KAK KAK KAK…he knew we were near the nest, and he wasn’t a bit happy about it.

Second goshawk nest of the morning, and this one is under construction!

We made a quick exit of the area and started the short hike back to the Jeep, smiling and whispering along the way. Finding one active nest and pair of goshawks is quite a feat. Finding two in only a couple of week’s time – incredible! We were so excited, knowing that our odds of acquiring the female we want to raise and train just increased exponentially!

I’m amused and somewhat girlie feeling every time Dennis gets “that look” on his face when we stumble onto a great find in the course of our explorations. He gets the biggest shit-eating grin on his face, and it’s nice to see the look of excitement and accomplishment in his eyes. For the hundreds of miles he has walked through these woods year after year, searching for promising nest sites and these fascinating birds of prey he has learned to hunt with, each success is deeply satisfying. Also deeply satisfying for me…sharing newfound adventure with this outdoorsman of mine.

Till next time…

 

Spring is Here!

We had a wonderful Easter holiday weekend. Friday, the kids were out of school so we joined the grandmas and aunts at NeeNee’s house so the kids could decorate bunny cakes and have a lesson about our family’s beliefs regarding the meaning of Easter.

Making Bunny Cakes

They each got to plant morning glories in their own little cups, meant to represent the glory that came in the morning when they discovered the tomb was empty, and Jesus had risen.

Planting Morning Glories

The kids really enjoyed it, Afterward, they spent time playing outside and enjoyed the beautiful weather. Saturday was a little busy for us so we wound down the day by grilling some steaks and dying 27 Easter eggs with the kids. Boy they had a blast!

Dying Easter eggs

Sunday we woke up to filled Easter baskets and kids who were ready to go to church and have the church egg hunt. Then it was back home to cook and get ready to head back to NeeNee’s for a nice afternoon of food, family egg hunt and a lot of laughs. The dads decided that kids have been cheated out of the fun of egg “hunting” these days because some people just toss them out in the yard and let them go pick them up. Those eggs were hidden really well this Easter! It was very entertaining to watch them climbing trees and sifting through leaves and flower gardens. They were everywhere!

Hunting Easter eggs

It was a great way to get the kids burning off that excess energy we adults only wish we had. Once they found all of their eggs, we had lunch and let them eat their bunny cakes. It was quite a sight! Cake all over. ALL over! But they had fun, and there was still plenty of daylight to play outside until they were completely worn out for the day. They ran races, played with sidewalk chalk and looked a little more to make sure they got all the eggs.

Levi got egged!

Overall, it was a wonderful weekend. Not super eventful, but life isn’t always go, go, go. Sometimes you just need to kick back on the porch swing and watch the kids play. Hope everyone else’s Easter was just as wonderful.

Outdoors Woman, Meet Outdoors Man: The Search Continues, Part I

Have you ever walked through the woods before daylight and watched the sunrise light up the trees, the ethereal glow starting at the top, sliding inch by inch down each branch until it finally reaches the base of the trunk? I hadn’t until I started hunting in the Maine woods. Walking into the woods before daylight is the most amazing way to start a morning. Walking into the woods and enjoying the birds’ sunrise serenade with my man by my side…absolutely priceless. I’m the luckiest woman to have found a man who shares my passion for the outdoors. Oh, the places we’ll go and the things we’ll see!

Sunrise in the woods

Having found one goshawk nest and mating pair this spring is exciting, but it is no guarantee of acquiring an eyas (unfledged baby) gos, much less the female Dennis and I are holding out for. Our search continued this weekend amidst moving, unpacking, cleaning, hauling off trash, cooking breakfasts and suppers large enough to feed a small army, Easter Sunday with the kids here for the afternoon – yep, we have our priorities – we have to find another nest! So, Saturday and Sunday morning before the day’s pace became hectic, we headed into the woods to do some hiking and scouting.

When searching for a goshawk nest, there is great benefit to getting out during the early stages of mating season. Starting early February to mid-April, the goshawks will use dramatic aerial displays and specific courtship vocalizations to bond with their mates. Finding a nest in the Maine woods is like finding a teeny, tiny needle in a haystack that spans thousands and THOUSANDS of acres. Becoming familiar with the gos’s prefered nesting habitat helps narrow down the search a little – very little – but it does help give us a better chance of getting within hearing distance of a hawk’s call. As the woods come alive each morning with sounds of wildlife, if there is a mating pair of goshawks in the area, their courtship vocalizations can be heard from a distance. These vocalizations are generally heard from about a half hour before sunrise to an hour after, and the sound is very distinct. The catch to this method of scouting – they will only be vocal until egg laying occurs, then they fall silent to protect the nest until the eggs hatch. Our window of opportunity is very small each year. After the eggs are laid, we will only be able to find a nest on sight, and with the trees starting to leaf out, this will become more difficult as the days pass. No time to waste!

We left home Saturday morning around 4:15 so we could be in the woods well before sunrise. Dennis knew the area he wanted to scout after having found a nest in that location years ago. The surrounding land has since been cut, and the goshawks abandoned the area for a time. He searched for a gos nest in the same location last year with no luck, but the landscape is too right for gos habitation, so he knew it was certainly worth revisiting. Though the hawks left the area for a while, he knew they would be highly likely to reinhabit, repair old nests and build new ones. We were sure hoping.

We hiked in on top of crusty snow, crossed a partially frozen brook a few times and found our way onto an old logging road he knew to lead into the area he’d previously found a nest.

Old logging roads make great trails through the woods

We hiked a bit, stopped to listen…hiked in further…stopped to listen…the woods at that time of morning are absolutely enchanted. We listened to the “wuk wuk wuk” of pileated woodpeckers and their rap-tap-tapping on trees. We heard a barred owl calling from the distance, “Who cooks for you? Who cooks for you?” I heard a loud call I didn’t recognize and listened closely, in case it was the prize bird we sought. Dennis knew its sound right away. A flock of geese flew across the sky in front of us, followed by a very loud raven. Another raven flew by close behind them. No gos. Dammit.

We walked a bit further, watching the trees light up above us as the sun quickly rose. Spectacular sight! Dennis decided the snow was getting pretty soft underfoot, and we were breaking through too frequently. We didn’t want to get trapped, fighting to mush through thigh deep snow getting out of there, so we started to head back up the logging road toward the Jeep.

Impressive trees in an old hardwood stand

I heard the faintest bird call out in the distance, and it stopped me in my tracks. Was that it? Dennis listened closely, and seconds later we heard it again. It was quite far away, and we just couldn’t be sure what we heard, but it was too familiar a sound to discount it. We left, a bit frustrated that we had to abandon our search that morning and get back to the main road, but we’d be going back in tomorrow…

 

 

Common Goldeneye Courtship Display, Hodgdon Mill Pond

Dennis and I were returning from a morning in the woods where we’d been searching for another goshawk nest. The woods and fields were alive with wildlife activity this morning! We spotted this group of ducks, mallard and common goldeneye, enjoying some time in the  open water. The Goldeneye male was displaying for the female on the edge of the ice.

Common Goldeneye courtship display

Outdoors Woman, Meet Outdoors Man: Hunting for a Needle in a Haystack

We got out of the Jeep an hour before sunrise, climbed into our warm Carhartt overalls and headed up the trail into the woods. The hard-packed, newly refrozen snow crunched loudly under our boots. Dried beech leaves and fallen twigs were scattered along the path, sunken into the snow. The woods surrounding us were thin, most of the tree branches bare. Other than the sound of our footsteps, the forest was quiet.

Not much is going to get me out from under our cozy blankets at 5:00 on a weekend morning when the thermometer is reading 3° except a trip to the woods to hunt for something! This weekend was the start of our hunt for a goshawk nest and a female gearing up for egg laying. When you’re searching for a gos nest in northern Maine, the key word is “searching.” Finding…that’s usually another story. A huntin’ we will go!

Goshawk nest

The Northern goshawk (Accipiter gentilis) is the largest of the North American accipiters. An agressive and fearless hunter, they are well adapted to hunting in forests as their short, powerful wings and long tails allow them to maneuver well through the trees and attack their prey stealthily. The gos is an opportunistic hunter and will eat a wide variety of birds and mammals ranging from medium sized songbirds to ruffed grouse or snowshoe hares. It is one of the most versatile hunters of all the raptors, making it a favorite among falconers.

Kahn eating a squirrel

 

 

Kahn eating a chukkar

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I had never heard of falconry until I met Dennis, and I’ve become completely facinated with the sport! It is, in fact, considered a sport, though it’s difficult for me to label it as such. Falconry, as any other form of hunting, is the conscious preservation of a historic way of life. It is actually believed to be the oldest recorded sport, along with other types of hunting. It is an artform that requires great patience, dedication, skill, knowledge and understanding of the “weapon” and the prey.

Watching Dennis care for, train and hunt with a gos for the last few months has been an incredible experience. He found his first goshawk, Kahn, last spring. He had previously trained and hunted with red-tailed hawks, but his dream was to hunt with a gos. So he went searching.

Dennis up the tree retrieving Kahn

As with all wild animals, the Northern goshawk has a preferred setting where their nests are ordinarily built. Nests are large, ranging around three feet in diameter, and flat on top with very little hollowing. They are made up of thin sticks and lined with twigs and greenery. When Dennis found the nests that spring, they seemed to be predominately associated with mature hardwood stands, a water source nearby and often on a downward slope. Nests are secured in the crotch of large trees, 25-50 feet in the air and are protected vehemently by their makers.

Male goshawk defending his aerie (nest) after Dennis stumbled upon the site.

Dennis found the nest with three birds and took what he thought was a female, as they grow much larger than males, are easier to train and seem to make better hunters. At such a young age, the eyas males and females can only be distinguished by weight (measured in mere grams) and the length of their feet. It’s difficult, at best, to know what you have at a week or two old. At three weeks and beyond, the size differences start to become more pronounced. As Kahn grew, it became apparent that Dennis had taken a male instead of the female he’d hoped for.

Kahn’s siblings in the nest

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After several months of training and hunting with Kahn, Dennis found more and more that the limitations due to his small size were a major issue with the quarry (snowshoe hares) he has available to him. He transfered the gos to a fellow falconer whose quarry is more suitable for him and will try again to retrieve a female, waiting a bit longer to choose this time so the size differences will be more recognizable.

Kahn, an eyas (unfledged) goshawk

 

 

 

 

 

 

We had been out Saturday morning before sunrise and sat on tree stumps in a nearby cut block to listen for mating calls that are just starting this month. We sat quietly listening to tree branches cracking in the cold, chickadees sounding off to each other and the sound of our own breathing. No gos calls that morning. So, Sunday morning we loaded up again and went to another location Dennis knew to be a good possibility for a nesting area, bundled up and walked in.

We got a little ways down the trail well into the tree cover and were just about to sit down by a tree when we heard a faint “chup, chup, chup” sound to our right. We stopped and listened. Silence. We looked at each other, wondering what we really heard. Then it started again and got louder and faster. Within seconds, we heard two goshawks performing courtship vocalizations that went on long enough to leave us no doubt…we found them!

There was a nest about 200 feet in front of us, goshawks going into their courtship rituals and two extremely excited humans in the woods that frigid morning…and we’ll be back! For now, we’ll be hunting for another nest or two to increase the odds of finding the female we want to raise. What an exciting adventure to share with this outdoorsman of mine!

Till next time…

 

 

 

Outdoors Woman, Meet Outdoors Man: Gone To The Dogs!

After a few weeks of working like crazy, family obligations and trips to make, Dennis and I finally had the chance to get away for a Saturday adventure. We loaded up around 6am with my three kids and his grandson, and took off for a fun-filled day outdoors.

I have a list. On my list are a number of things I’ve always wished to see and do, and most are specific to our outdoors life in Maine. My list includes learning to hunt with rifle and bow, learning to fly fish, visiting the Western Mountains and exploring the area on horseback, back country camping with just a sleeping bag – no tent or other shelter, hiking all over Acadia National Park and Baxter State Park, climbing to the peak of Mount Katahdin, paddling the Allagash River start to finish and camping on the river banks for several days along the way, developing and managing an active homestead in the woods, complete with my own fruit orchard…the list goes on and on. Somewhere very near the top of my list is taking off one weekend to stay in a cabin in the snowy mountains to enjoy some dog sledding.

Cadillac Mountain, Acadia National Park

I’ve seen pictures of these hidden areas of Maine that are only accessible during the winter by sled or snowmobile. I’ve always wished to be tucked away in the peace and quiet reserves of a remote area where civilization isn’t breathing down my neck. I love to walk outside a cozy cabin in the woods and hear nothing but nature surrounding me…see nothing but the walls of the forest…smell nothing but “green.”

Trail to Sandy Stream Pond, Baxter State Park

I’m slowly but surely whittling away at my list, and on the schedule this weekend was the Can-Am Crown International Sled Dog Races in Fort Kent, Maine. The entire event is made up of 30 mile, 60 mile and 250 mile races. I wouldn’t be able to actually ride the sleds, but watching them in action was going to be a blast! It also proved to whet my appetite even more to strike out on this adventure for myself.

I knew Dennis would enjoy taking off for the day to see the sledding event, and he would be able to tell us all we needed to know about the sport. In his early thirties, he purchased his first Alaskan Husky, McKenzie (Kenzie), and started his own team for mushing. With a little time, experience and a bit of trial and error, he finally put together a great team of dogs from excellent stock including puppies from a dog he procured from Susan Butcher, the second woman to win the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race in 1986. And the “Topgun Team” was formed.

Dennis ran the Can-Am 30 mile and 60 mile races during his sledding years. He enjoyed the sport immensely, but it wasn’t about the competition for him as much as being outdoors, enjoying sledding through the woods.

Dennis and Hunter watching the race

Dennis’s daughter, Ashley, ran a one dog race when she was eleven. They were in Lincoln, Maine and found there was a race for kids. At that time, Ashley had never even stood on the runners, but he gave her the chance to participate. She says, “Well, I didn’t fall off. So there’s that!” She did well, finished 9th out of 16 and most importantly, she had a great experience that day and enjoyed the feeling of accomplishment.

As life started taking a different path for the family, Dennis’s team of dogs was eventually sold to Steve Crone, owner of Telemark Inn Wilderness Lodge, and he began offering dog sledding adventures for families. It was exciting to Dennis when we were standing on the sidelines watching the last team of dogs take off in the 250 mile race that his friend, Steve, was on the runners. He yelled and waved as the team went breezing by.

The kids had a blast!

One of the teams we had the pleasure of seeing at Can-Am was driven by 15 year old Bailey Vitello, a musher from Massachusetts. In 2010, Bailey was the youngest musher to compete in the Can-Am 30 mile race at age twelve. Quite impressive!

Sled dog team run by the youngest participant in the race – age 15

We had a blast watching all the dogs and mushers take off on the trails. It was cold and snowing the entire day, but we were all bundled up well and were never phased by the weather.

Up and onto the long trail

We enjoyed a great snowball fight and some excellent Chinese food before leaving the downtown area to do more sightseeing for the afternoon. It was a great day! Who knows…maybe one of these days a trip to see the famous Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race in Alaska will be on the agenda for me and this fun loving outdoorsman of mine!

Till next time…

 

Outdoors Woman, Meet Outdoors Man – The Final Hunt

In the final few hours on the final day of hunting season, Dennis and I hopped in the Jeep and headed to the woods. After some driving around scoping the landscape for deer, he took me to a red pine plantation in Hodgdon, just a little ways from his home. He treated me to a beautiful location not only to hunt but to spend time exploring, walking the pathways through the trees and along the brook.

Red Pine Plantation

There is something that greatly appeals to me about tree plantations. Maybe it’s my slight OCD that makes me really, REALLY like things in order, straight, evenly spaced, etc. Maybe! I find trees of all shapes, sizes and species to be beautiful and have photographed my fair share of them, but when they’re lined up in row after row after row…it’s such a stunning display!

It was cold at the end of November. The sun was just starting to slide down behind the ridge. We walked in quietly and sat down on the ground, leaned against two trees across the path from each other…waited…and whispered. Dennis told me about times in the past when he’d hunted that same area. We were sitting just above a spot where he had found a scrape and had seen deer coming out of the woods to travel through the plantation. He’d also seen quite a number of places throughout the adjacent woods where they’d been bedding down, so we were in a prime location for hunting.

I didn’t have my rifle in the Jeep when we left, so Dennis said I’d use his that day. I hadn’t fired it yet, but I was itching to! He hunts with quite a sweet piece of equipment. He has a Remington Model 7 Magnum Alaskan Wilderness Rifle in 7mm Remington short action ultra mag mounted with a Leupold 6×42 scope. It’s one of his prized possessions and rightfully so! I hoped to try it out that afternoon, but more than anything, I wanted to tag my first deer.

I sat on the cold ground with what I quickly found was not enough layers of clothing for the occasion. I checked the safety again on the rifle,  laid it on my leg with the barrel resting across my boot and began scanning the woods around us with eager eyes.  We watched and listened with hardly a sound stirring in the dense forest circling the stand of pine. I could hear the water moving down the brook, a few birds sounding off, then one sound that made me turn my head. I looked across at Dennis, and he had heard it too. He pointed in the direction to my back, so I turned a little and listened, peering through the trees. Nothing. The sound stopped. I settled back into my pine needle seat.

We sat for over an hour watching the light fade to dusk, to the point I couldn’t see well enough to make out antlers if they’d been 50 yards in front of us. Dennis was watching the time closely and signaled when legal time was over. We got up, I brushed pine needles off my ass, handed him the rifle, and we started making our way back down the long path to the Jeep.

I was absolutely freezing, not having dressed well enough. I know better, and know now after several months with this outdoorsman of mine that I need to be prepared for wherever the road takes us when we leave home. That’s my kind of adventure! He asked if I was cold, and I answered him with trembling lips. He smiled, took my hand in his, and we walked out of the woods side by side. He never let go until we reached the Jeep.

No deer, no significant sightings or heart-pounding experiences…just a man and woman sitting on the ground in the quiet woods, watching the sun set…and it was the best date I think I’ve ever had. A slow day in the woods is better than any day anywhere else.

Till next time…

 

Outdoors Woman, Meet Outdoors Man: Making the Cut

Very early in our dating, Dennis began sharing with me the plans he had for his land, his house and the connection of these plans to his love of hunting and falconry. I remember being awestruck that not only did he passionately pursue some REALLY cool outdoors activities, but he went about it methodically, conscientiously and put great emphasis on conservation and the preservation of a way of life. I figured out quickly upon seeing the hawk house he built from scratch utilizing his own design and milled wood from his land that he pays a lot of attention to detail and quality. I’ve found this extends to every area of his character and his life.

He explained a little about cutting part of the forest behind his house, and our weekend activities soon turned toward getting the tree lines ribboned off for the upcoming cut. Boy did I learn a lot, following him through the thick trees and brush while we worked together to tag miles of trees. He measured off and used a special compass and his GPS to determine the lines, and I followed behind him filling in the gaps with loads of bright pink ribbon so Andy could come through later in the feller buncher and start cutting according to a very specific plan Dennis had laid out. I’d never done so much bushwhacking in my life…and I LOVED it!

When Dennis bought his property in Hodgdon 28 years ago, the land had recently been selectively cut. He, his son Joey, and friend Matt have hunted the thickly wooded 31 acre homestead every year.

Dennis’s cabin and hunting grounds in the Maine woods on a snowy day in January

They have harvested bear, a number of ruffed grouse (“partridge”) and hares and have seen deer and a vast array of birds coming in and out of there routinely. As the landscape has grown up and changed over time, the small game population has dwindled due to the decrease in easily accessible food and shelter. Dennis started reading and putting in some research and has set in motion a plan to revitalize his land, encourage healthy forest growth for proper wildlife management and hopes to increase the game population by providing a suitable habitat for them. His primary focus in this effort is hunting – more specifically, falconry.

Kahn, a goshawk, eating red squirrel for supper

The management process he has chosen involves clearcutting designated blocks of land. The 24 acres of forest he is cutting for managing will be cut in two sessions over a twenty year period. This month, they are cutting twelve one acre blocks and leaving the remaining twelve untouched to be cut after the current cleared sections have regrown and matured. To look at his diagram on paper, it forms a checker board pattern. He studied this method in “Managing Northern Forests for Wildlife” by Gordon W. Gullion, a book promoted by the Ruffed Grouse Society in Maine. Dennis has taught me that ruffed grouse require four stages of forest growth available year-round to provide shelter, breeding, nesting and brooding grounds and food for all seasons. They are a non-migratory bird and tend to spend their entire life in a small area, so all these natural resources must be available in close proximity.

Ruffed grouse I photographed last summer

The ideal prescription for this particular cut is to clear blocks of land every ten years over a forty year period, but due to the limited number of acres he is working with, he will only be able to make this cut twice. It’s difficult to get the logging companies out to cut smaller acreage due to the cost involved, and, as Dennis says, “It’s going to make a hell of a mess, and it will probably take ten years to clean up the front yard.”

Glen in the “limber,” de-limbing and sorting wood into piles, getting it ready for the chippers to come in

Dennis’s son, Joe, hauls trees out of the woods with the massive sized skidder so they can be processed and hauled to the mill.

Tree hugger types argue that clearcutting land is an unacceptable practice of deforestation, destroys wildlife habitats and contributes to negative climate change. “SAVE OUR FORESTS” has become a blanket battle cry and clearcutting trees for any reason deemed incomprehensible. Some scientists, foresters and hunters who are familiar with the patterns of wildlife and habitat around them argue just the opposite. Deforestation is the removal of a forest with no intention of establishing a future stand of trees. Deforestation occurs every time a piece of land is cleared for the purpose of putting up a man-made permanent structure, such as shopping strips and housing. Those of us concerned with true environmental conservation and well thought out wildlife management can clearly see the value in carefully planned management of our forests. This is a project I can easily support Dennis in seeing through, and I’m thrilled to be involved in the process.

When this cut is complete and the trees are yarded out, the ground will be exposed to the sunlight again, and the regrowth will begin nearly immediately. The soft and hardwood varieties will thrive in the newly designed space, with more sunlight and breathing room that will encourage healthy growth. The popple roots will start sending up sucker shoots rapidly and provide a very quickly growing habitat for animals to move into. There are drumming logs that have been set aside and will soon be moved into the centers of each cut block for the male grouse to use in their rituals. We’re already saving all the apple cores we can to seed in the cuts to grow for the deer. The new environment should be welcoming to a large variety of area wildlife.

Soon, we’ll be making plans to set up observation and hunting blinds and make good use of the 10,560 feet of new edges available along the cut blocks. Joe will be clearing a couple more trees to make a good view from the hunting stand he already has built in the woods, and we’ll be looking for a couple of good spots to set up bear bait cans for the fall hunting season. The popple will start filling in, the wildlife will multiply, and the hawk will have some prime hunting grounds to soar and explore. Yes, there will be bear, deer, grouse, hares, coyote and hopefully moose harvested on this land. The hawk will hunt and eat live prey. No, it’s not always a pretty picture, but it’s life. It’s natural, it’s useful, and there is a healthy balance to be maintained between man and nature. Harvesting on this land will be selective, well thought out and planned for with Dennis’s ever watchful eye focused on conservation and proper management of these resources.

Dennis and the Hawk – photo courtesy of his daughter, Ashley

With the cut only a week old at this point, we have already seen an increase in the signs of animals coming in to graze on the freshly cut trees and foliage that are now much more easily accessible to them. Standing at the back door the other evening, Dennis spotted a huge bull moose browsing up on the knoll on one of two new trails we can see all the way down from the house. The knoll is now called Moose Knoll. He peered toward us, we gawked at him, he was still eating his fill as we lost sight of him when darkness fell. Dennis said, “This is EXACTLY why I’m doing this.” He beamed with pride at such an accomplishment. I couldn’t help but smile at this outdoorsman of mine.

Till next time…

Outdoors Woman, Meet Outdoors Man

Growing up in Houston, you’d think I had grown up living the city life. In many ways, yes…when in Rome…but I had the great fortune of being raised around my grandparents’ homestead and with a variety of farm animals that my parents dabbled with over the years. I grew up in the garden, wearing bonnets and work aprons made by my grandma. We were surrounded by cows, a horse or two, goats, pigs, chickens, rabbits, dogs, cats and later on a large variety of exotic birds that my grandparents raised. Mornings in the garden and tending and milking animals followed by warm, humid evenings relaxing in lawn chairs under the porch made up a day in my life. We lived an “outdoors lifestyle” but it was a far stretch from the outdoors lifestyle I have discovered a passion for since moving to Maine in 2009.

Maine has become my personal heaven on earth. I never realized how out of place I had been during my entire adult life until I set foot on this soil. From the first visit to check things out before settling on the big move, I was home. It was a surreal feeling standing on the edge of these woods and on top of the cliffs overlooking the Atlantic Ocean and having that feeling that I had finally found MY path. Four years behind me and not one single regret have proven that I was correct. This is the life I was meant to live.

Soon after moving to Maine, I set about pursuing every activity I could think of (and brave) along with my family. We hiked, camped, and did more sightseeing than I thought possible. We learned to canoe and kayak and started fishing avidly during the summer months, as well as spending time on the ice during hard water season. We’ve hunted bear, deer, turkey and partridge and put more miles in on the dirt roads in the last four years than I had in my entire life. Over the past year, the kids and I have begun learning about archery with the goal of adding bow hunting to our annual activities. We’ve been living our dream life with zeal, and I have become a passionate outdoors woman. The only thing I felt I was personally missing along this exciting new journey was an outdoorsman.

Through a series of life events and some major changes, I found myself traveling down a vastly different path and really wanted someone – the right kind of someone – to share the journey with. My “someone” had to be a man who would not only be by my side during an unlimited variety of outdoors activities, but he also had to sincerely enjoy all that the lifestyle has to offer. I had never had the benefit of a partner who was a true outdoorsman, and the idea of a “paddling partner” or “hunting honey” appealed to me greatly. I knew I’d *know* him when I met him. I had all but given up and sworn off the whole dating scene, and then I met Dennis. What a perfect match he’s been.

We had a number of friends in common through the logging industry in Maine, with Dennis working many years for one of the local logging companies, and found an instant and easy connection as we began to talk and compare notes. The man I quickly got to know was all he was cracked up to be…and so much more! I found him to be a great man, an amazing father to his three grown children, proud papa to two super sweet little boys, and he was the quintessential outdoorsman I’d been dreaming of. We spent many hours talking about our families, our kids and our shared life experiences – good experiences and bad. We talked about his years of adventures hunting bear, deer, partridge, turkeys, sledding with his own team of dogs, flying small planes as a certified pilot, raising all sorts of animals, horses he keeps for his daughter and grandson to enjoy, building his amazing cabin in the Maine woods, cutting and milling the lumber off his land to build a hawk house from scratch, etc. Yep, I was highly impressed!

We connected on so many levels, I was just astounded, and I found myself listening at the other end of the phone with pure excitement as he shared some amazing and often hilarious stories. I hadn’t laughed – or blushed – that way in a very long time. Yep, this man was definitely worth getting to know better. I was chomping at the bit to get out there and start sharing in some of these incredible adventures with him. We agreed to meet on a Sunday and had plans for an outing…but after the second week of nightly three and four hour conversations, he couldn’t wait to meet. Sweet! By Friday, he was on my doorstep, and we were on our way! Our first date was a simple evening Jeep ride and relatively uneventful, but when he returned again Sunday for our originally scheduled date, boy did the fun begin!

In addition to his many outdoors skills, Dennis is a falconer and has spent the last several months raising and training Kahn, a goshawk. He had a red tailed hawk previously, but his dream was to find and raise a goshawk, so he spoke about it very passionately, as he began teaching me all about the bird and the process of training him to hunt. I’d never even heard of the sport until meeting him, but what an absolutely amazing concept and activity and a perfect collaboration between man and wildlife. The second day we got together, he brought Kahn and we took him down to a nearby gravel pit for a training session.

Dennis getting ready to release Kahn, a goshawk, for a simulated training hunt.

I was absolutely in awe watching man and wild bird, working as companions. Being the adventurous soul that I am, I wanted my turn!

An absolutely amazing experience being in close contact with a hawk!

It was truly an amazing feeling being in contact with the hawk – my first of many new experiences shared with Dennis. An even better feeling…sharing my passion for the outdoors with a true outdoorsman and great partner at my side. I realized very quickly what I’d been missing in my life. I have a lot of lost time to make up for!

We have since spent every weekend together, sharing, learning, talking, laughing…we have hunted side by side, walked out of the woods holding hands between us and a rifle on each of our shoulders, driven the countryside in his Jeep, hiked for many hours through the thick woods around his house, worked together training the hawk, and spent time hanging out with the kids and grandkids. And for all the ground we’ve covered the last few months…I find myself sitting in the living room of his beautiful cabin in the woods, looking out over the front porch and listening to the horses playing around in the snow…daydreaming about setting up a hunting blind this fall out behind his house along the edge of a new cut. I’ll tell you more about the latest project he has going on around here and another learning experience I have the benefit of sharing with him – next time!

 

 

An Outdoors Woman in the Making

I sit next to my daughter while she is rabbit shopping online, and I’m listening…“Look, Mom! Awwww, how cute. Can I have that one?” For as long as I can remember, Olivia has loved not only animals, but all things related to nature. She reminds me so much of her mother, so I can hardly say anything about her weekly requests for new “pets,” bringing a variety of “really cool” bugs and rodents into the house and pushing the laptop in my face to show me photos of her latest find. She’s a true outdoors-woman in the making. I’m confident that her natural compassion and instinct for working with animals in combination with a healthy respect for the animals’ purpose in our food supply will serve her and the animals she encounters very well.

At 11 years old, Liv has had experiences girls twice her age aren’t fortunate enough to have. She has always been my fearless child and is up for any adventure. When I learned to hunt, she was the first of my four children to say, “Take me with you! Can I go? I want to hunt!” And she did. I took her out to hunt white tail deer, she sat still and quiet beside me on a tree stump when it was so cold we were bundled up to our eyeballs…and she didn’t want to leave when it was finally the end of legal hunting time. We walked out of the woods near dark, and all she wanted to know was when we could go again. She’s been out with me a number of times since to hunt deer and partridge. One day, she’ll be tagging her very own, and I’ll be the proud mother who gets to say “I took my daughter on her first hunt. It was a day I’ll never forget!”

The first year after our move to Maine, we jumped right into the farm life. We started our garden and ordered our first batches of meat birds and layers. We raised chickens and turkeys with the intention of doing our own processing and providing our family with farm raised food. I started teaching the kids right away that these animals were meant to be eaten or to provide us eggs. No names allowed. Yeah, right! Tell young children not to name their “food” and they tend to get creative. Before I knew it, the discussion turned to our flock of meat birds, lovingly named…Roast Chicken, Chicken-n-Dumplings, Chicken Pot Pie, Chicken Stew…

Liv was awed by our first batch of laying hens.

When it came time for the first few harvests, Liv was right there! It took her a bit to get comfortable with the actual killing, but she did. The birds started coming to the processing table one by one, and she got right into the task and learned all about the inside of the animals, verging on an actual dissection to find out “what’s inside that pouch? Cool!! That’s the food crop.” No qualms about it! Her insatiable curiosity made it easy to overcome any discomfort she may have had about it, and soon she was cutting right into the birds like a seasoned farm girl and using her naturally scientific brain.

That same curiosity level drove Liv to be the first in our household to learn to clean and filet fish…yes, after she dissected the first one to see what was what.

Liv’s determination paid off with a nice yellow perch! I’m glad she made a good catch, because we’d have been there until she did, no matter how long it took.

Liv dissects and cleans our fish

Curiosity and strong-willed determination drive this girl of mine, and I can already see what an amazing woman she will become. She never backs down from even the toughest challenge, she pushes herself to do what to some grown women see as the unthinkable, and the best part of all…she loves it!

 

 

 

 

Her latest big adventure has been getting more time, experience and comfort in the saddle. She has always wanted her own horse…I think most little girls do, at some point…and finally has the opportunity to pursue this dream activity of hers more often.  Last summer, the kids attended Living Waters Camp on East Grand Lake in Danforth, Maine (www.lwcamp.com) where she was able to take short trail rides during free time. Of course, as for any natural adventurer, the opportunity only served to whet her appetite even more!

Liv riding Cheyenne

Now, with deep snow banks surrounding us and frigid winter hanging in the air, Liv is asking if she can ride this weekend. If it’s at all possible, she’ll be on the horse all bundled up to withstand the cold, and a super proud mom will be right there with her, photographing her in her element…outdoors!

The Northern Hawk Owl is a rare bird sighting in Maine

The northern hawk owl is a rare bird sighting in Maine, and this cool creature has been hanging out in Houlton, Aroostook County, longer than I imagined! As of late yesterday it was still there, and it’s sure worth a trip out to see.  This northern hawk owl has been spotted in northern Maine for more than two weeks. It is thought to be here because food has become scarce in its home territory this winter.

The owl was first spotted by locals, and word quickly spread among members of bird clubs for quite a distance. I’ve seen a few people out hawk owl gazing, including a couple in a vehicle with Massachusettes plates, sporting a camera that gave me a major case of lens envy!

Dennis Kerekes, a member of the Aroostook Birders (www.AroostookBirders.com / Also on Facebook) took me to check it out so I could try for some good photos to publish.

After several trips to the access road behind the Ford dealership in Houlton, I finally had the opportunity to photograph this beautiful bird just before sunset. The light filtering through the bare trees was magical! Dennis made mouse squeak sounds while I kept my shutter button ready, and the owl was quite intrigued by us for a short time.

For more Maine landscape and wildlife photos, please visit Tammy Lea Photography on Facebook.

 

Sunrise Over Deadwater, Brookton, Maine

An adventurous spirit always asks, “Where do you think that leads?”

A long dirt road…an obscure trail into the thick woods…twisting, winding deadwater that just begs to be paddled…

all too inviting and absolutely irresistable to me!

An early morning drive is easy on the eyes…

A frigid, sub-zero degree Monday morning is a tough one to face. I crawled out from under a cozy blanket, got dressed and spent some time nestled up to the woodstove while the kids got ready for school. It was almost time to head out and chores still needed to be done, so I bundled up, filled feed buckets for the horses, grabbed water for the pigeons and threw the front door open…catching my breath as the icy wind hit me in the face. Brrrrr! Chores done, kiddos dressed, bundled and ready to start another long week of school, appointments and multiple tasks, we loaded up and hit Route 1 headed south toward Topsfield.

Katahdin in the Distance

 

The great thing about a morning drive in Maine…regardless of the time, day, temperature or distance traveled, you are sure to see some amazing views! This particular stretch of road, which we travel frequently between Houlton and Topsfield, gives us access to what is aptly named “The Million Dollar View.” Along the way, we take in beautiful farmland scenes, rolling hills, Mount Katahdin, Peekaboo Mountain and the landscape of New Brunswick, Canada.

Mt. Katahdin

 

On the opposite side of the road, the Chiputneticook chain of lakes including East Grand, Brackett and Deering offers an equally spectacular view and provides some amazing fishing during Maine’s open water and ice/hard water seasons. Ice shacks are already dotting the frozen water, and the smoke from chimneys of lucky home owners living along this byway make for some pleasant images as we travel through. It’s never just “getting from Point A to Point B” when you’re on the road in Maine. Every journey down these roads is an experience!

Chiputneticook chain of lakes including East Grand, Brackett and Deering

L.I.F.E. is an Adventure!

We often nonchalantly use the phrase, “Life is an adventure!”  How often do we actually understand the full meaning behind those few, simple words?  I had a refresher one summer weekend a while back and quickly realized that it’s time I pay more attention to the LIFE in my l.i.f.e.  Robin and I enjoyed a three-day weekend in a cozy little cabin deep in the Maine woods.  The best part about being in that particular cabin in that particular stretch of woodlands on that particular weekend…we were the only two humans for miles.

The road into the cabin area is about ten miles long after you leave the paved road in Molunkus.  That ten-mile stretch of dirt and gravel was the beginning of a series of new experiences I’ll never forget.  Being the textbook Sagittarius that I am, I’m always in search of adventure and experiences that bring greater awareness, understanding and…well, of course excitement!  Add a deeply engrained love of nature to an incurable level of curiosity, and it’s easy to see that this place was absolutely perfect for me.

Some people will have to ask…”Oh!  Weren’t you scared to be all alone, two women in the middle of the woods?”  My answer, “Not at all!”  I actually mentioned to Robin that it’s more frightening to walk down a sidewalk in Houston after dark than to hike through the woods with nothing more than a small flashlight and a camera, even knowing that wild animals were likely watching us through the trees.  Adrenaline rush?  Definitely.  Remember the part about life being an adventure?  Things that make your heart race are an indelible part of that experience.

We spent our first afternoon in and around camp with Robin’s husband and daughter.  We did some target practice and later took a sightseeing and photography trip out to one of the fields.  Then, we sat around the cabin for a while and played cards until they needed to start home.  After a quick supper, Robin and I headed for the deer stand to settle in for a couple of hours of wildlife observation.

We started out early in the evening sitting in a stand on the edge of a field where signs of bear have been found recently.  A bear sighting was our big observation goal for the weekend.  We never saw any, but we saw and heard many other amazing things and definitely didn’t come home disappointed.  After we were sure there was nothing coming to feed in that field other than the variety of birds we sat and listened to for a while, we drove out to check the big field for any late activity before heading for the cabin.

We parked and walked in when it was just passing dusk.  As we came within sight of the right end of the field, I spotted the dark form of a moose grazing along the edge of an island of trees and brush.  We stopped in our tracks, backed out quietly and headed around another trail to get up to the deer stand.  We stood there and watched this huge, beautiful cow moose until she was finally going out of sight and we had lost too much daylight.  We didn’t have the flashlights with us that evening when we walked back to the Jeep after nightfall, but it was the night of the full Sturgeon moon, and we could see for quite a distance.  The sky was beautiful!

The next morning, we got up, brewed coffee, sat on the front porch of the cabin in our jammies and talked and laughed for what turned into several hours.  We watched a few woodpeckers traveling from tree to tree, tapping and chattering away.  There were a number of other birds flitting around, singing and chirping the entire time.  A hawk flew by, and at one point, we watched a Bald Eagle soar above the stream in front of us.  Other than our two voices, the wildlife, water running through the stream and leaves blowing in the breeze were the only sounds we could hear.  It gave brand new meaning to “peace” and “quiet.”

I did something that afternoon during our wandering around the woods that I never in my wildest dreams thought I could do.  This 5’4” woman who is terribly afraid of heights (mainly afraid of falling) climbed 15’ or so up into a bear stand that was attached to the side of a tree.  I’d seen them on TV and in photos but never imagined that I’d have the opportunity or the desire to go up into one myself.  There was little more than thin bars of steel and a soft padded seat tied on with nylon attachments holding me up there…that and the will and determination needed to do whatever necessary to fulfill my desire to hunt.  I decided that if I ever want to hunt bear, which I do, I have to get up in the damned tree.  It’s that or stay closer to the ground where the bear will eventually be coming to feed.  Hmmm…up in the tree I’ll go!  So, I went.  And I did it.  And I even got down.  I’ll do it again soon, and I won’t be quite as afraid my next trip up the tree.  I love when desire overcomes fear, and all it usually takes is a little determination to back it up.

That evening, we took our water bottles, cameras and flashlights and headed straight for the big field, hoping our moose would return for that night’s meal.  We sat and listened to the birds singing, watched a few blue jays playing around the trees, heard frogs and crickets sounding off and just waited.  We decided the silence of nature was actually very noisy, but it’s the kind of noise you never tire of.  The moose didn’t show up that night, but a yearling doe that didn’t think enough of us to be afraid came to visit.  She wandered well into the field and came surprisingly close to the stand, watching us the whole time.  Of course, she couldn’t quite miss our cameras flashing away at her, but she didn’t seem bothered by it for quite a while.  I’m not sure if it was our relentless photo taking or if she heard something else in the woods, but she finally darted away.  We hit the dark trail back to the Jeep and spent the rest of the evening in the cabin with a few good drinks, a lot of great conversation and several hands of Cribbage.

Our final day there really stunk.  No, it was another great day filled with hiking, photographing nature, skeet shooting, and more wildlife observation.  But we knew our time was ending way too quickly, and we just weren’t ready.  We decided late in the day that we’d pack up the Jeep and go back out to the field for one more evening and then leave from there to come home.  Boy, were we glad we did!

We hadn’t been there very long when a mature doe entered from the far left corner opposite where we were sitting in the stand.  She was beautiful and well filled out.  I was happy that both does we had seen were healthy and well fed this summer, because that isn’t always the case in nature.  She was much more leery of our presence, though we tried to hide from her and didn’t even bring our cameras up to shoot that time.  We could tell immediately that she wasn’t going to pose long enough for us if we tried, so we just kept quiet with heads low inside the windows.  She kept a close watch on us, but soon began looking back into the woods.  She was very nervous and watched the tree line intently for several minutes.  We were watching with her.  We knew something else must be coming.  After a bit, another large doe came into view.  Within a minute or so, the first doe we’d been watching ran at the second one and they ended up in the air on their back hooves, and their front hooves came crashing together.  The sound was so loud and sharp that it gave us goose bumps.  My heart was in my throat.  That was amazing!!!  I’d never seen anything like it, and it only got better from there.

The other doe retreated over the hill so we could barely see her, and the first came back out to graze a little more.  Robin heard a couple of new sounds in the woods to the left of the field, and it didn’t take the first doe long to start blowing.  I’d never heard that before, but it’s a sound that will make the hairs stand up on the back of your neck.  The sound was shrill and forceful, and she made it very clear that she wasn’t a happy deer.  We couldn’t decide if she was upset that the other doe was staying there nearby or if she had heard something coming through the woods when Robin did and was sending out her warning.  Both does walked back into the woods and up through the cover of the trees out of our sight, and we heard her blowing seven more times after that.  Whether she was blowing at us, the other doe or whatever wild animal was lurking off in the thick trees, we knew we didn’t want to run into her on the trail in the dark!

It was time to say our final goodbyes and head home – back to UN-civilization, the sounds of traffic, TV, radio, public conversations, dogs barking, cranky neighbors and busy kids.  I’m already day dreaming about our next outdoor adventure, and it won’t come a moment too soon!

Magnificent Views from Abol Bridge, Millinocket, Maine

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