Hunting with Dad

Myself (left) and my father (right).

This past weekend I drove to my hometown of Sherrill, New York and got to hunt with my father. On Saturday morning we went out for partridge in Deerfield, just north of Utica. This is a spot that my father hunted as a boy, and where he took my brothers and I when we were growing up. In the past, Deerfield was always good for a bird or two and the occasional rabbit. Its landscape is comprised of old apple orchards, fields and patches of pine and hardwoods. Small cricks meander through the valleys between the fields. I flushed out one partridge but couldn’t put my eyes on him in time to get a shot off. I also kicked out a woodcock and a couple of deer; one of which was a buck. We came across a Garter snake who was stretched out on the bank of a small creek, sunning himself. We thought for a minute that he was hurt or dead until my father reached down to touch him. Shortly thereafter, we became very certain that the snake was indeed alive and did not care to be touched! I was really surprised that we didn’t see more birds here; the old apple orchards we hunt are completely loaded with apples. Nevertheless, it was a beautiful breezy day with temperatures in the 70’s. I rolled my shirt sleeves and took off my hat several times to cool down. Leaves fell constantly and the wind produced a steady “woosh” through the trees. We sat at the top of a hill, overlooking a meadow and shared an apple, while we talked about guns, previous hunts, how my father’s uncles were upset that he had scheduled his wedding on the opening day of deer season back in 1964 and other random things. It was great.   (Click here for a gallery of photos from this hunt!)

Mr. Porcupine.

The next day; Sunday, in the afternoon, I went up north, past Utica to Forestport, New York. I wanted to do some hunting in the Adirondacks while I was home. Something I hadn’t done since high school. My father stayed behind, this time, to spend some time with my oldest sister, Kate, who was visiting. Although I was alone, I was so glad that I still went up north. Hunting is one of my favorite things to do, but hunting in the Adirondacks is completely amazing and brings the trill of the hunt to a higher plane. There is nothing like it. Fifty feet in to the woods I came across a porcupine who scurried up a tree and waited for me to pass by. I have only seen a porcupine once before. They’re darker than I remembered; almost all black except for the ends of their quills. He stood out like a sore thumb, against the yellow leaves of the birch tree, he so fearfully clung to. Numerous little red squirrels scurried about as I made my way through the forest; constantly startling me into shooting position (Those little squirrels must have a death wish). About a mile later, I came across the Black River and a fantastic little fishing hole. It was a warm day, probably around 80 degrees, and I was tempted to jump in for a swim, but thought I’d better just keep moving; there was lots to see. A while later, I found myself looking down into a deer meadow, with wavy tall grass flowing with the breeze. After scanning it for deer, and the surrounding ridges for foxes, I walked down into the meadow and made my way slowly across its center. In doing so, I saw something white, and moved towards it to investigate. Kneeling down, I realized I had found a deer skull with a tiny rack. This is the second one of these I’ve found in the last two years. I tossed it in my game sack and decided to head back to the truck; the sun was starting to set. It was another great day in the woods, with beautiful sights, sounds and smells. I met my older brother Jim at the Wigwam for a couple of beers before heading back home. The Wigwam is an old tavern; a land mark really, known for the tail end of a piper cub stuck in its roof. The inside of its log structure is decorated with saw blades, propellers, skis and topographic maps of the surrounding mountains. It was the perfect watering hole after a few hours out hunting in the Adirondacks. Classic!  (Click here for a gallery of images from this hunt!)

Squirrel hunting - Frederick Watershed

I was lucky enough to get a few hours of hunting in, today, at the Frederick Watershed.  This area is my primary deer hunting area but I always see squirrels here.  I took my Rock Island Armory Mig 22 again because it is just so much fun to shoot, and it's accurate as hell.  About an hour into the hunt, I heard a squirrel barking about 40 yards off of the trail I typically walk.  I stalked in and watched him for a while.  He slowly worked his way down the trunk of the tree and onto the ground where I watched him dig for a bit before squeezing off my first shot.  As luck would have it, he jumped just before I let the shot go and I hit him in the hind quarters.  I had to come in close and finish him with a second shot.  He was still mobile and climbed about 15 feet up a small tree, keeping the tree between him and I.  This is where I came up with an idea I hadn't used before; no matter where I walked, he kept on the other side of the tree.  So after a few moments of circling the tree, I grabbed a stick and tossed it on the other side of the tree.  When he scurried over to my side of the tree I popped him in the head.  One more squirrel for the freezer; this makes four this season already.  Stay tuned for the squirrel feast!  

Squirrel Hunting - Patuxent River State Park

Phil and his .17 caliber.

This week, after work,  I was lucky enough to get out squirrel hunting on Tuesday & Wednesday evening.  Both hunts were at the Patuxent River State Park.  I went alone the first night, and was joined by my buddy Phil on the second night.  I work with Phil; he’s an avid hunter and all-around good guy.  He kept an eye out for me, and grabbed up a decent .50 caliber muzzle loader for me to hunt deer with this season (Stay tuned).  At any rate, large plots of tall, old hickory trees make Patuxent Park an ideal habitat for grey squirrels.  Both evenings I entered the woods around 4:30pm which is just about feeding time.  Grey squirrels are active feeders around mid-morning and in the evening.  If you keep your eyes and ears open, and know what to look & listen for, you stand a good chance of honing in on their location. There are still a lot of leaves on the trees which works both with, and against you.  The leaves provide good coverage for the squirrels to hide behind but they also act as giant flags for activity.  In the treetops, the squirrels feed on the hickory nuts, leaping to and climbing out on to the smaller limbs, which dip and shake under the weight of their bodies.  You can usually see and hear this activity pretty easily.  Another good thing about the leaves is that, when the squirrels perch on a branch and “cut” their nuts (chew the exterior shell away), they drop the shavings down below.  You can zero in on their location by listening to the shavings drop down through the leaves.  This week, at times, there was so much feeding activity that it sounded as if it were raining.  Sometimes if you’re “a bit early for supper” and the squirrels aren’t out feeding yet, you can coax a few squirrels in by rubbing two quarters together.  This has worked well for me in the past.  The serrated edges of the coins mimic the cutting noise made when squirrels work the shell off of nuts.  You want to hold one quarter firmly and drag the edge of the other quarter over its serrations, as if you’re playing a washboard.  A lot of times squirrels will come to see who is eating nuts in their area. Tuesday night I sat and watched as many as eight squirrels crawl around in the upper branches cutting nuts, barking, and leaping from limb to limb.  The difficult part is keeping an eye on them and waiting for them to pass by an open area, where you can send a bullet to meet them. 

Results:

Tuesday night:       1 squirrel for the deep fryer.

Wednesday night:  2 squirrels for the deep fryer.

Above: Tuesday night I used my Marlin XT17 (left) and Wednesday I used my Rock Island Armory Mig 22(right).

Squirrel Hunting - Frederick Watershed

Its that time of year again:  Hunting Season.  I thought it'd never arrive!  So far, the only thing in season is squirrel, which I do enjoy hunting, so I took a rifle out that I haven't used for hunting before:  My Rock Island Armory Mig 22.  I got a late start this morning and left the house around 8:30, putting me at the Frederick Watershed around 9:30; later than I wanted, but still prime time for squirrels.  I crept into my usual spot and sat for a while.  I sat peacefully, enjoying the activity of the chipmunks and birds, yet there are still too many leaves on the trees to catch all the activity up above.  Nevertheless, it was a cool and breezy 57 degrees out so I didn't mind just relaxing in the woods on a beautiful morning.  After sitting in a few different spots, I got ancy and decided to go check out my deer sitting spot.  I searched around my deer spot for buck rubs and deer poop (Or as my father always called them "smart pills"... which begged the naive question:  "Do they really make you smart?" ... My father is a great guy.  Thank you for not letting me eat deer poop when I was little Dad)  After a few minutes of sitting where I usually do with my .30-30, I saw some activity far down in the valley below.  I zoomed in with my scope and had a squirrel in my cross hairs just long enough to estimate my holdover before he scurried out of sight.  It would have been a 125 yard shot, had he sat still long enough.  Still, I'm confident that I could have "rung his bell"; no problem.  Next time little buddy!

I, of course, couldn't leave without shooting some beer cans.  Check the video below; I'm going to go make a snack...I wonder if we have any smart pills in the pantry.

Progress

I woke up this morning at 7:00 and decided to get the road bike out and try to put in a few miles before that giant, blazing ball of fire sheds its oppressive heat down on my out-of-shape, fatty, self. The longer I lay in bed, the less chance I have of actually following through with the thought of riding. ... And, so it was, that I aired the tires on the road bike, dug a water bottle out of the closet, stretched my heavy legs and set out into the morning light. Shockingly enough, it was not as hellaciously painful as I thought it would have been. It was a downright awesome little jaunt. 8 miles in total, which is nothing really, but it is something to me these days. The lack of riding I did this summer marked an all-time low for me. I haven’t ridden this little since… before I started riding. And it shows. A lot. But, things can only get better from here. When you’re at rock bottom you can only go up right? Right. Progress.

Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch.

Gunpowder Falls State Park

I decided to get the mountain bike out and check out a trail head that I have been wondering about, for over a year now. I’ve passed it in my truck, numerous times. Turns out; it’s an entry point into Gunpowder Falls State Park. It was a hot one today, but I threw the bike in the truck and drove 20 minutes to the trail head. I was stoked when I discovered such awesome singletrack, and local at that! I only explored about 5 miles of trails but what I did ride was great. The trails were hilly, well groomed, lots of log drops and roll-overs and the terrain varies between overgrown meadows, dark pine and hardwoods. I’m so insanely out of shape that I was huffin’ & puffin’ up the hills but I’m not too proud to use my granny-gear, and so I did. I stopped once to snap a few photos below. I tried to ID the plant with the bright red berries but had no luck. Pretty; probably poisonous.   I gotta say, I love my new helmet too.  Super comfy and light.  If you dig it, check out Urge Bike Products.

Picture of the day

I took this photo at the famous Wellsboro Diner in, you guessed it, Wellsboro, PA. Hoopsie and I were grabbing a quick cup of coffee before heading off to explore the back roads around the area when I rested my four thirds camera on the bar-top and snapped a couple of shots. The diner is your classic retro-styled dinner; tube shaped with a bar area and booth seating. Cream with forest green accents; inside and out. The next day I stopped in for a BLT and a coke before driving back to Maryland. Delicious.

Captured with Lumix GF2 & 14mm prime lens:  1/60 sec @ f/2.5 ISO 100

Toyota Tacoma

I never “officially announced” my new vehicle that I bought this past fall. Yes, I traded the jeep in towards a more economical vehicle; a 2013 Toyota Tacoma. I drive 110 miles each day, from Westminster to Greenbelt MD where I work, and the jeep just wasn’t the best daily driver for that kind of commute. I’m loving my Tacoma. For what I lost in my 3” lift and 33” tires, I made up for with fuel efficiency, comfort and practicality. The truck bed is so handy for those trips to the Home Depot, the dump and will, hopefully be put to use hauling a big buck home from the Frederick Watershed this coming deer season. I miss driving stick, but an automatic transmission is a blessing in stop & go traffic around the beltway. I haven’t had a chance to get it off-road until this past weekend during a camping trip with my buddy Hoopsie. We met up in Wellsboro, PA and spent the weekend mudding near the campground we stayed at. I was pleased at how the Tacoma did on some super steep climbs and the deep mud. Although I did get bogged down in a large pit that was as deep at my 31” tires. I just put some Definity Dakota M/T’s on, but it was just too soupy for me to get out of. Luckily, I was able to toss a toe-strap to Hoopsie helped pull me out with his JK. 

Scope mount attempt: Denied

The other day I attempted to attach a scope to my new Mossberg MMR Hunter (Mossberg's version of the AR-15) but was unable to, due to a lack of Quality Control at the Weaver factory. Weaver, a reputable manufacturer of numerous optics, sites and mounting systems, failed to provide the correct size nuts for the screws they packaged in there scope ring kit.  The nuts were simply way too large.  I'll be taking the scope ring kit back to my local gun shop for a replacment; I need a taller set of rings anyway.  

And yes, a full review of my Mossberg is forthcoming.  ... And, yes, I am aware that Christmas too, is coming.

More baby bunnies

These guys keep popping up all over the yard. Yesterday, while weed-whacking around the back porch, I noticed this terrified little guy who was pretty much hyperventilating and trapped between the confines of our timber-framed back deck and my monstrous self wielding a loud and angry brush-destroyer. I must have scared the hell out of him while whacking down his ideal habitat: the lazy man's ill-kept yard. I put the weed-whacking on hold and ran in for my camera. Poor little guy! Later in the evening I saw him and another tiny bunny hugging the wall of the house as they made their way to a big bush at the corner of the yard; most likely where momma bunny lives.