Originally filmed on Ernie's couch...

Geico changed the image of the person on the couch to protect Jim's fragile emotions... Thank goodness for the loving support Jim get's from the dozer pile boys!

Opening Day Waterfowl (2nd Half) 2010

24 geese

40 ducks

8 hunters

Strangely Jim wasn't there to claim geese. Perhaps he was comfortable in a sauna talking alot about hunting. ;)

Happy Holidays from the Grousers

apparently this photo has been circulating on the Information Superhighway lately. Happy Holidays.

Excellence in outdoor media award for 2010

definitely hunting-related. Apparently the full-length feature film was released on December 3, 2010.

I want to hunt the ruffled grouses . . .

this excellent video comes to us via our favorite local northeast region Ruffled Grouse Society biologist. enjoy.



If the video doesn't show up in your browser, click here to watch it on xtranormal.

Tagged Out

9 points
14 1/8 inside spread
very nice mass at the bases and throughout
easily my 2nd best deer to date
currently in third place in the Kuneytown Big Buck Challenge

Got a coyote earlier in the morning.

Sarah Palin versus Aaron Sorkin

Don't know if you guys have been following this story, but here's the Sarah Palin clip of her taking six shots at a caribou that has sparked a lot of discussion/debate/criticism this week.



Aaron Sorkin let loose with this expletive-laden diatribe against Palin: "In Her Defense, I'm Sure the Moose had it Coming."

Now, the most fun yet: Rutgers law professor Gary Francione--he of the ultimate pro-animal rights position--writes to Sorkin saying "I Hate to Say It, but Sarah Palin is Right: A Response to Aaron Sorkin."

I haven't had this much fun since I was reading for my A-exam.

Gun hunting ban in primitive areas?

Have you guys heard about this? Kind of puts the damper on wilderness designations if it goes through.

U.S. Sportsmen’s Alliance 801 Kingsmill Parkway, Columbus, OH 43229 Ph. 614/888-4868 • Fax 614/888-0326 Website: www.ussportsmen.org • E-mail: info@ussportsmen.org

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE Contact: Greg R. Lawson (614) 888-4868 x 214 December 10, 2010 Sharon Hayden (614) 888-4868 x 226

Forest Service to Consider Banning Gun Hunting in Parts of Huron-Manistee National Forest (Columbus, OH) - As a result of a recent anti-hunting court ruling, the U.S. Forest Service is starting a formal review of its Management Plan for the Huron-Manistee National Forest to consider banning hunting with firearms in some areas.

In September, the Sixth Circuit Court of Appeals ruled that the Forest Service’s regulations required that it consider banning hunting with guns on lands designated as “semi-primitive.” The Court found that the noise associated with gun hunting could harm the quality of the recreational experience of hikers, backpackers, and cross county skiers.

Just as troublesome, the Court ruled that the Forest Service was required to consider closing these areas to gun hunting in places where there is other public, non-Forest land nearby that is open to gun hunting. This could require the Forest Service to close lands currently open for gun hunting when other state or federal hunting lands are opened. The court ruling has prompted the Forest Service to start a formal review of the Huron-Manistee Management Plan. Primarily, the review will focus on whether or not hunting with guns should be banned on the “semi-primitive” areas.

Sportsmen will be given opportunities to submit comments to the Forest Service throughout the review process.

“This court ruling is a major threat to hunting on these lands and across the country,” said Rob Sexton, USSA vice president for government affairs. “Anti-hunters will likely use this ruling to try and force the Forest Service to ban gun hunting on other Forest lands.

On October 26th, the U.S. Sportsmen’s Alliance and a coalition of nineteen other leading conservation groups sent a letter to the Forest Service requesting that it rewrite the regulations the Court used to render the anti-hunting decision.

The USSA will keep sportsmen apprised of when and where they can submit comments on this issue.

About the U.S. Sportsmen’s Alliance The U.S. Sportsmen’s Alliance is a national association of sportsmen and sportsmen’s organizations that protects the rights of hunters, anglers and trappers in the courts, legislatures, at the ballot, in Congress and through public education programs. For more information about the U.S. Sportsmen’s Alliance and its work, call (614) 888-4868 or visit its website, www.ussportsmen.org.

Better start writing your Congressional reps . . . .

Local deer photo

wow. just ran across this photo in the Ithaca Journal . . . out of Hector.

from the Journal:
"The Seneca Buck

11/20/2010 8:08:59 PM|Vannmiester

This buck was taken by Jamie Vann of Trumansburg. Grossed an amazing 175 5/8 in. and was taken in Hector National Forest."

NPR is now Nimrod Public Radio

For Some Girls, The Ultimate Goal Is To Kill A Buck

Heated blinds!

Baiting!

Texting while hunting!

Girls hunting!

Cats and dogs, living together ... mass hysteria!

Man, sleepy.

taking tomorrow off. maybe the whole d*mn weekend.

Even God rested on the seventh day.

Thanks for the whisky, PW.

Newsflash--the Wild Harvest Table on the Radio

Hello fellow grousers. I may have mentioned to some of you that Mo and I are making a big push to get the Seneca Wild Harvest Table more squarely on the Cornell Cooperative Extension map. We are succeeding in incremental ways as far as the bureaucracy goes (DEC and Federal Formula Funds both look promising), but perhaps better in the "local buzz" category--check out Mo's radio interview this morning here.

What to do with a gunshy lab

I'm thinking this year we may just dress him up as a Christmas tree and put him on an extended sit-stay for the month. 

jt

p.s. wondering if Santa Paws has brought the Pennsyltucky hunters any venison yet?

Too late for turkey day

counted 38.  They never seem to be around when you're looking for them, though.

Two more days

Until the Pennsyltucky rifle opener. Driving home last night, 10 pm, 0.25 miles from the Valley of Death, my deer hunting ground. What's that in the headlights? An apparition? Phantom? Fantasy? 10 points with tines scraping tree tops. Into the Valley he slinks. I, KG and Ben will lust for his soul in the days to come.

It takes a village...

Thanksgiving on the Tidball ranch; a fantastic tradition that brings together family, friends, land, sky, and the creatures therein. Jim and Keith, each having shot multiple deer, felt sorry for my state of deprivation (22 hours in the stand and no deer seen) and devised a plan to push something past me.

The morn dawned grey and windy, strong out of the SE, so we drove around to the W of Keith’s back field and worked our way E. I wore my throwback hunter red and black plaid Woolrich coat that belonged to my grandfather. Jim and I each sat on a fencerow, and Keith chose the hickory lot. A brush-busting neighbor paid me a visit, having managed to sit on his stand for an entire 20 minutes!! After departing, he pushed out a couple of deer a couple hundred yards away. My deer shotgun is pretty low tech (smoothbore and no scope). It is more like bowhunting (gotta upgrade) so a few hundred yards feels like the next county. Probably they had been working their way right to me, but at least I had seen deer.

We regrouped. Keith had seen deer as well: a buck and four does. I still hunted my way along the N fenceline toward a good stand just off the corner of the field and with a good view as well of the big gully. A buck jumped up when I was about 30 yards away, but flashed through the thick stuff and was gone. No shot. I settled into the stand and Keith and Jim began a slow push toward me. Movement in the brush along the fenceline. A coyote! Despite farm protocols that suggest I should take advantage, I really didn’t want to shoot the dang thing.

I still wanted a deer.

About 5 minutes later, from where the coyote disappeared, I caught movement. A doe (or so I thought), working her way toward me, down in one of the smaller gullies that drop into the main branch. About 50 yards. She was coming closer but I saw that if she stayed in the gully, she would soon be below my line of sight. She showed me some chest and I held behind the shoulder and touched the trigger. She tumbled, letting out a bloodcurdling bawl that Jim heard from a couple hundred yards away. She lunged to her feet and then crashed down again, and lay still, white belly toward me. I sat still for 5-10 minutes, watching.

Dead deer.

I still hadn’t moved, but then suddenly she was on her feet, lunging away, too thick for a shot. I called to the boys and told them to watch out. Jim walked toward me along the fence, where I had last seen the deer. I still expected it to be dead along the fenceline.

A single shot from Jim. “Great,” I thought, “the finishing shot”. My heart sank, though, when Jim’s shot was followed by another, 10 seconds later. The deer was on the run, the chase was on, and my role was that of the guy trying to piece it together from afar. More shots from the gully. A call from Keith. “The deer is down!”. Relief. Followed by more shots. “What the ****?”

The deer was running the gully, with Jim following and Keith racing to outflank. He made it, to the promontory that overlooks “possum flats” where we dragged out his deer a couple of days earlier. The deer was trying to climb out of the gully to the east. If he made it to the open field, he’d be across route 89 and into the marsh on the other side. Keith hit him again, from ~150 yards across the gully, and down he went.

Only to get back up again.

To be hit at last from Jim. Bang. Dead deer.

Mostly. After yet another shot in the neck.

I have never seen an animal that wanted to live so much, that fought so hard, as this guy (as he turned out to be a button buck). Altogether we hit him five times. I surely am not proud of this, but I am proud of how well we coordinated as a team. Without the team effort, he surely would have not been ours. Much to be thankful for here—the winter meat yes, but so much more.

shortest. writeup. ever.

appointments over -
three o'clock home and in stand
four thirty . . . deer . . . bang

The 2010 NY deer opener (southern)

(This is an abbreviated version of the post at http://tidball.blogspot.com/2010/11/odd-season.html)

Saturday was the opening day of the firearms deer season. At around 7:30 am, I missed a moving buck, a very wide and thick 6 pointer, at about 90 yards in cover. This buck was just hammering on a small button buck, literally kicking his can all over the place. I watched this big old buck throw the little feller into the air with his antlers, chase him down, and pin him to the forest floor. When the shot (80 yards or so, moving- high winds) finally, briefly, presented itself, I was surprised and frustrated by the miss. The day's frustration continued with increasing heavy winds, and the hunting pressure from neighboring farms, as it seemed every time I got settled into a new location, within an hour bright orange blobs could be seen in my upwind scent cones.

I finally decided to finish the opener in a newly installed, safe, two person ladder stand in the "square wood" otherwise known as the "hickory lot." This stand has a great view to the east and the south east of two large fields and a hedgerow. As I entered the little grove to climb into the stand, I kicked up two deer, but I could only hear them and see their tails. About an hour later, two deer, does, appeared at the end of the large field I was hunting over, out of range. They were feeding relatively comfortably on the clover. I watched them for quite awhile through the Nikon BDC scope mounted on my Ithaca Deerslayer II. They finally drifted out of the field and into the gully. Ten minutes later, another doe appeared, this one moving more purposefully toward the gate at the far southeast corner of the field. After 5 minutes, another deer appeared- the big 6 pointer.

The wind was blowing from the West, from behind me, to the field and the deer. I had not noticed any of the three does from minutes earlier obviously "scent" or "wind" me. However, as I had an aerosol can of "Buck Bomb" given to me, I thought I 'd see how well it works by spraying some in the air and hoped it would drift down wind to the buck and lure him my way. I sprayed, and within a minute, the buck could be seen scenting the air, nose high, in my direction. He immediately began to move towards me, closing the 300 yards step by step.

At about 150 yards, the buck veered slightly left (south) and was concealed by the thin hedgerow that runs perpendicular to the line of woods where I was positioned. The sun was setting, a big full moon was peaking in and out of the clouds. I assumed the buck was marching toward me. Five minutes, ten minutes, twenty minutes elapsed. No buck. I resigned myself to the fact that he had been dissatisfied with something and lured elsewhere. I packed up my satchel, slung the gun over my head and shoulder behind me, and prepared to descend from stand. Just as I extended my foot to step down to the first rung, I heard leaves crunching steadily, from behind the hedgerow where I had been expecting the buck. "It's him!" I nearly said out loud. "Better late than never." I clumsily removed my gun, knocking my hat off in the process. I settled in to a shooting position and tried to calm my nerves.

The bright moon and lingering sunset gave decent light, which was improved by the light-gathering qualities of my scope. I watched the end of the hedgerow intently. The sound of shuffling leaves grew louder . I could see feet, legs. The deer paused. Head movement. I could see an antler. "It's him!" I thought again, almost out loud. He was hanging back, sniffing. I needed two steps for a 15 yard shot at vitals, broadside. He took ones step, still partially obscured by the tangly brush of the Buckthorn and other hedgerow miscellany. As he bobbed his head I could make out his profile, tall antlers, points, some thickness... he stepped again. A clear shot at vitals. Bang. The Hornady SST was on its way.

He jumped straight up, and then went running. I shot four more times at him running, later learning that three of these running shots connected. The final shot downed him in the middle of my field, out about 150 yards. It was done. I descended the ladder, slightly shaky and well adrenalized, was smiling as I walked up to the big buck... but he got smaller as I approached. I stopped, paused... "that's a different buck" I said aloud. I walked closer, knelt over him, gently took the tall but juvenile antler, and chuckled softly. "Sorry boy- a case of mistaken identity" I said.

Apparently the original big 6 point deer, when concealed by the hedgerow, was met by the smaller 8 point 1 and 1/2 year old buck. Whatever transpired, time elapsed, and one buck went one way, one buck went my way. The smaller one went my way and is now headed towards the sausage maker.

I believe this is the same buck as pictured below from pre-archery October trail camera shots. He was supposed to benefit from QDM. Instead he fell victim to classic buck lust and "eager orange" as I call it. I have been struggling with that since the kill, but have resolved to be thankful and move on, perhaps wiser. In any case, as I have been told, you can't eat antlers. He'll be tasty. I will remember him for what he is and isn't, and for the Opening Day hunt under a full moon that I wasn't going to get to experience, but did.


















Day two of the opener dawned sunny and with little wind. I set up in the second of my three two-person tree stands, the one that faces south down in the gully. I set Rich up in the "Quickie" stand that overlooks "The Bedroom," a deer bedding area that has traditionally held big bucks every year. My goal was to fill the first of my 2 DMPs (the second is for a different WMU). At 7:30 am, I filled that tag with a nice, neat, single 50 yard chip shot that anchored the deer in her tracks. In the picture, the white spot in the center is the doe's belly. Rich helped me gut it and drag it out. There will be feasting.

McPhee: Feb 6, 1996 - Nov 19, 2010

McPhee has joined his hunting companions Abbey, Cody, Fiona, Ginger, and Taga on the other side.

He loved well the Wisconsin grouse woods; the big water, prairie potholes and coulees of Alberta; the rocky hills of Pennsylvania; and the marshes of the Finger Lakes country.

He gave us almost 15 years. He loved us and we loved him. We'll see you again, old pal.

No longer "just" the cook

So I was feeling slightly fraudulent with the attention the Wild Harvest Table has been getting and therefore being asked the question, "do you hunt?", to which I had to reply, well I fish, but I am more the cook. So last weekend I accepted the invitation to go on a squirrel hunt with my family. Cagey set me up with his beloved LC Smith 20 gauge and our oldest daughter had her .22 Chipmunk. We set off for the wood line in the front field. We noted that there suddenly weren't any squirrels to be found when you are actually hunting them, but then we saw one up ahead. Our guide hurried us on. He told us to wait as he went around the huge cotton tree to push the squirrel to our side and not to worry as long as we aimed high. Sure enough, the squirrel came around to our side up high in the tree and I shot. "BOOM", yes the gun tip went up, but the squirrel was shot. He scrambled/fell down the tree and started across the ground. Damn. I shot again. Now he was clearly hit hard and feebly moving away slowly. I have no more shots or ammo to reload, so I call in the sharp shooter with her .22. "Quick, take the squirrel that is getting away (unless I choose to go pick it up, I realized in hindsight)...shoot it in the head", I plead to my daughter. Aim, fire, and the squirrel is quickly dispatched. We now have squirrel to add to our Thanksgiving larder, and I am no longer just the cook.

Kuneytown Youth Hunt!

My next bird dog

apparently a new breed of bird dog is being developed: 

from Terry's Diary.

Dispatch from the Front (archery deer hunting obsession)

Ambush nearly successful STOP 20 meters but obscured by cover STOP target is a "shooter"STOP presented "quartering toward" shot oblique STOP shot declined, reference ROE STOP target has exfiltrated STOP will reengage at 1500 STOP regaining radio silence FULL STOP


Trail Cam recon

Honor the hunt by hunting with honor

Some of you know that I've started writing again. For better or worse.

Latest entry at the Fair Chase blog: http://fairchasehunting.blogspot.com/2010/11/honor-hunt-by-hunting-with-honor.html

Yes, but is it sporting?

You labba dabba guys never cease to amaze me.  When will you learn that your stupid pet tricks will never measure up to the True Greatness that is the Pointy-Sissy-Dogge.  harrumph.

Cobalt skies

Stolen poem - picture taken after a long, very cold day of fishing the Gallatin River outside of Bozeman last fall.

A Blessing

by Ken Hada

After three days of hard fishing
we lean against the truck
untying boots, removing waders.

We change in silence still feeling
the rhythm of cold water lapping
thankful for that last shoal of rainbows
to sooth the disappointment
of missing a trophy brown.

We'll take with us the communion
of rod and line and bead-head nymphs
sore shoulders and wrinkled feet.

A good tiredness claims us
from slipping over rocks, pushing rapids –
sunup to sundown – sneaking
toward a target, eyes squinting
casting into winter wind.

We case the rods, load our bags
and start to think about dinner.
None of us wants to leave.
None wants to say goodbye.

Winter shadows touch the river cane.
The cold is coming. We look up
into a cobalt sky, and there,
as if an emissary on assignment,
a Bald Eagle floats overhead
close enough to bless us
then swiftly banks sunward
and is gone.

Requiem for Herter's decoys

Yes, it's sad but true, Herter's decoys are no more. As reported on a number of hunting sites, including http://www.yellowdogpatrol.com/2010/09/cabelas-discontinues-herters-decoys.html

In Herter's and KGT's honor, I spent some time yesterday repainting some Herter's 72s that were looking a little beat up. Better keep an eye on the Pennysaver and Craigslist for now on, 'cause they ain't making any more of these.

Cabela's is starting to garner a reputation as an evil empire. Hard to believe.

jt

p.s. And in case anyone's wondering about the size of those neck bands . . . take a look at the videos on takeem.com .

15 minute epic

Opening day for ducks (as well as the morning following the full moon and west wind that might bring a flight of mudbats) coincided with Nolan's last soccer game of the season as well as the long-awaited Insectapalooza at the university (and notwithstanding my lack of federal duck stamp), so the sporting life of this household didn't get started until the sun, under a heavy veil of clouds, had descended substantially in the west. Both the boys thought it was a good idea to put off supper for awhile so that we might bring Brody out to look for a woodcock.

And so, attired in boots, orange vests and hats, and toting side-by-side shotguns real and real-looking and a spear, we three trudged with Brody up past the barn and pigeon loft to a small stand of red maples above the pasture. We were going woodcock hunting.

A light wind was out of the southeast, so we entered the woods from the north to give the dog some wind to work with. I activated Brody's beeper collar and sent him in. Nolan and Collin followed me; we paused while I answered questions about the beeper and how we'd know if Brody found a bird. In a minute or so (probably less) Brody went on point. I found a good place for the boys to stand and watch while I went ahead to flush the bird. Collin was backing me up with his shotgun (minus caps), as was Nolan with his spear. My stomping about didn't produce a bird, and before long Brody worked cautiously ahead. He came to a stop after another 30 yards.

I brought the boys up to another opening where they had a view the dog, and again I went in to flush a bird. This time a woodcock whistled up. My first shot whistled up through the air past the rising bird, and the second shot tumbled the woodcock to the ground. There was no need for Collin to fire his pop gun, and fortunately no need for Nolan to hurl his spear. Brody over ran the bird, which allowed me to get there in time to take it from the dog soon after he picked it up (haven't progressed that far w/ fetch yet). The boys were pretty excited (so were Brody and I for that matter). They'd seen the dog go on point, the bird fly up, the shooting, and the bird fall. They each wanted a "smoky shell". It was getting late, and the odds of improving on the hunt were about nil, so I heeled the pup and we headed to the house. The kids took turns carrying the woodcock. They recounted the hunt over pizza, and after supper they did a fine job of plucking the bird. The only drawback of this perfect hunt is that their expectations may be a bit too high now. For what it's worth, it didn't seem like a flight had come in last night.

2009 WC Carnage Report

I know Keith likes his carnage reports--sorry I didn't post this earlier.  Perhaps Andy can provide some analysis of the data or an overview of how the nation's numbers were last year.

We got out again yesterday to help the state manage its pesky woodcock problem. Six birds, five points, one shot, one kill. NO grouse. hmmm.

Snippet from Minnesota

Bird numbers were good in NE Minnesota. Weather was balmy, a little on the dry side. Unfortunately I wasn't able to get my dogs on the ground much -- a couple hours for Brody on Saturday 10/9 and a couple hours more later in the week during scouting; an hour w/ Spy during the RGS hunt, and finally (after the work was done) about 6 hrs w/ Brody over this past Sat eve/Sun morn. This was our first hunting of the year anywhere.

Little things can make or break a hunt. Spy made the most of his hour of hunting last Friday by pointing 3 wc and 4 grouse; all 7 birds were quite killable and were shot at, but we bagged just two: a wc by my hunter (his first!) and a grouse that I killed on Spy's last point of the day (at his age -- 13 -- you never know when it's his last. Period.).

Brody showed alot of... "variation", and alot of progress in a short time. He bumped plenty of birds early on, and made some nice points - and more consistently worked birds nicely - as his time on the ground increased. He ran w/ alot of urgency initially, probably a combination of pent-up energy and inexperience (as well as the potential to race in his breeding), and later settled into an easy handling mode, but still covering ground quickly. In the end I killed a woodcock and 3 grouse over his points, and I let go alot of killable foot-flushed and bumped birds. All those bumped birds and the few killed birds are great training. It's those pointed birds that got away that I regret not bringing down to reward the pup.

The photo is Brody last Sunday morning/noon in MN. It was dry as chips, but the birds were abundant and Brody was getting the hang of it. I had just knocked down a grouse from his 3rd or 4th point in a row, and he pointed it "dead" -- you can see it through the veg below about 6 inches to the front-right of his nose, its head is up. Pup was in a stupor, standing paralyzed, drunk on scent, eyes were just slits.

Also that morning I got to educate Brody on porcupines. For anyone who runs an e-collar, you might want to take advantage of your next porky encounter by setting the transmitter on fry-o-lator and nicking your dog when he knowingly approaches the porcupine too close. You want him to see and smell it. He'll think the porky gave him the jolt. Don't say a word, just pet him when he runs over to you, and hunt on. Try to come back around down wind later for another lesson. This could pay off some day. Hopefully you'll never know.

Phoebe near Kenneth, Michigan

Here's another pic from the trip.  Woodcock were spotty, as usual.  Had a good first day on the eastern U.P. and landed these three bogsuckers with Phoebe.

I must say I got to see good work on woodcock from Bill's dog Maya and also from Rich's Conley, he of the earlier Pillsbury Doughboy fame.

My GPS crapped out on me last week, so Pete, no coordinates for you.  Sorry.

Preventative Maintenance

Grousers, here's what you need to do to your 2000 F-150s prior to taking them off-roading in the wilderness.

The excitement starts at 2:45. Enjoy.

We Hunt Where the Pavement Ends

It has come to some grousers' attention that other grousers consider Wisconsin to be a "second rate" suburb to Minnesota, and far below the great state of Maine as a desirable grouse camp location.

Be that as it may . . . we hunted hard all week, scouting some new coverts as well as revisiting some old ones. It was all good.

Here are some more pics.

Rich finds the wilderness

And a wilderness movie:



Finally, when you hunt where the pavement ends, bad things are bound to happen to your truck:

Tow dogge hooked up to truck

My rescuer celebrating my misfortune; aka

"Rich busting my ball joints"

A Wisconsin Grouse Epic

the camp...4 happy guys and 3 good dogges. Wish you guys were here...

Mr Bill and Maya score...the old fashioned way.

The Cornell Flag flies proudly...

Jim in the "Rich, I hurt my truck" covert...

A good dog. Josh's gun connects for the sixth time on the trip.

Woodcock 2010 opener

Finger Lakes and Forest, in all due glory.

More woodcock flushes than can be remembered.

In times like these, you learn to live again.

A brace of woodcock, old guns, true friends.

Salmon River Outing

Jen, welcome to the family.

TR's AH Fox for sale

Teddy Roosevelt's A. H. Fox 12-gauge side-by-side shotgun goes up for auction on October 5.

Photo courtesy of James D. Julia Auctioneers, www.jamesdjulia.com

Full story here.

Something Old, Something New, Something Borrowed, Something Camo

Happy Tidings for the soon to be wedded, from the good people at RealTree Frosting Company.

Funny, Scary, Both?

I think some new Chequamegon covert names are in order ...

Agents raid pot operation in Wis. national forest

PETA and...

Staring at your feet...