ADK Bear Camp 2011

Bear Camp 2011 has ended, and there are no bear steaks to distribute to Grouser friends.  I had a great time, though, exploring the environs of my new ADK camp, christened Twin Moose.


I made camp with a friend two days before the opener of early bear season on the "middle landing" of the timber lands I am leasing in the Big Moose tract, near Big Moose station, Twitchell Lake, and Big Moose Lake. The weather was unseasonably cold and we spent the first few nights dealing with the hardest September frosts anyone up that way could remember.  But it felt like hunting season, and all was well, so long as you had a mummy bag and some good whiskey.  I had both.

Bear Camp on the middle landing

Another view of Bear Camp.

My friend Paul and I fished Twitchell Lake and scouted on the first day and probably spent too much time crashing through the thick stuff bushwacking the property lines.  It is my opinion that we sent a bear right through the camp the day before the season, and I could hear my dog Artemis going absolutely ballistic like I have never ever heard her sound before. We could find no bear sign in camp, however.

Twitchell Lake at sundown.

On opening morning, we were up long before dawn and made a hearty eggs and sausage breakfast complete with Cagey's campfire coffee.  We flipped for stand selection and Paul won the toss.  He selected "the bench" stand, a stand up on a bench between two beech ridges.  Its a great spot.  That left me with the stand along one of the two beaver ponds on the lease, along a recently cleared logging road-come-snowmobiling trail.  There was game sign of all kinds in the mud there a-plenty- deer, turkey, fox & coyote, and older not-so-fresh bear sign.  And there were moose tracks.

After a few uneventful but stunningly beautiful early morning hours on stand, where I watched the frost melt from the leaves of the reddening maples and heard it rain down on the still lush forest floor like a spring shower, I was jolted from my reverie by the sounds of crashing brush and snapping twigs coming down the mountain to my south east.  The sounds got closer and louder, and my heart raced as I raised my gun (the trusty drilling) and began to collect a site picture through the scope of a spot on the logging trail where I expected the dark and large sounding bruin to pop out.  As I found a rest on the tree, the brush rustled and a branch snapped at the overgrown-with-brambles trail's edge.  Any second.  I saw movement.  I saw a a dark shape. It poked out its head and there stood before me a massive brown horses head.  I blinked. "What the f*#$?!" could be heard in the Adirondack wilderness.  As my mind raced to make sense of what was unfolding before me, and as I watched through the scope, the "horse," after pausing a few seconds to make sure the coast was clear, stepped into the clear.  The cross hairs drifted to vitals as this beast stood broadside.  And then, out plopped one, then two, miniatures of the big long-legged creature, which I was now identifying as  Alces alces americana.  Now, I have seen a few moose, but never a cow with a calf, certainly not a cow with twins, and most definitely not within bow range broadside.   This was just simply COOL.

The moose hung around abit, winding me, and causing me to remain frozen for as long as I could rather than make movements to lower my gun and try to retrieve my camera.  They finally ambled off, to the north west, vaguely in the direction of Paul, who was about a mile away.  The excitement was over by about 9:30 am.

I spent the rest of my morning hunt relishing what I had witnessed, and basking in the good fortune that was mine in seeing any moose at all in the Adirondacks.

Almost unbelievably, it turns out that about a half hour later, the same three moose passed directly under Paul's stand as well.  He, though, was, er, resting, and was awakened by the sound of a rock being kicked. He opened his eyes, saw moose, and grabbed a camera. What are the odds?!  The odds of me seeing a moose, never mind three moose, including twins at that, are slim indeed.  But the odds of Paul seeing them as well, almost a mile away in thick country, the same day--- now that is damn near auspicious. Hence, the camp has been named Twin Moose Camp.

Cow moose and twin calves, 2011.

The following day's hunt was uneventful and I bid Paul a goodbye.  I remained in camp for another few days, a week in total, exploring, paddling ponds, pointing and flushing grouse into impenetrable labyrinths of leafiness. It was bliss, but no bear.

Sorry Rico

More uses for mouse thumb puppets

Been pretty quiet lately. Here's another Tidball-worthy taxidermy project for all you grouse camp mouse hunters out there. Remember: full utilization of the resource is good.

computer mouse

On Suffering- Antlers Come and Go

I had been seeing him since July- the monarch, the twelve point with drop tines (10 pt plus drops). He was the biggest of the "Gang of Four." The others include a wide 9 (Rich's story) a perfect 8 with wide spread(missed at ten yards in archery by one of the guys that hunts here--I saw him twice during archery but too far), and a huge 7 point. I saw these four bucks many times in velvet together, then during hay making season in August and September. Twice while varmint hunting/ deer scouting armed with a scoped .223 I had them at 50 yards or less, inspected every fiber of the big 12's vital area with the cross-hairs overlay-ed...talk about temptation. Anyway, I knew these four well.

Two evenings ago, after having spent countless hours during shot gun and more recently the muzzle-loading season, I found myself once again reveling in the mediation of suspension by deer stand. I have so enjoyed the hours this year, the time to collect thoughts and put them in quiet places for long periods, the time to focus intently on being aware of being totally present. I was in my third "half hour perfectly still" repetition ( I allow myself a five minute break between these to look around) when I heard a muffled sound to my left and a bit behind me. I moved only my eyes and picked up a fast moving doe. She stood out well against the snow in the fading light of the lead sky.

As I prepared to move slowly to take the doe (thus far I have killed a small buck,no antlers to speak of, in archery and the 11 pt "bizzarro" in shotgun, so I still have excess DMPs), she stopped and looked over her shoulder. I froze, and looked with eyes only, further to the left and rear. There with his nose down and snuffling was the perfect 8, looking just like the picture on the "Wanted" poster of the Gang of Four hanging in my mind and robbing me of sleep for months. He was trailing her by only a few yards, and then, he looked back. Through the whip saplings and briers I could see the monarch. He was cautiously trailing the doe and the 8 pt, but was exhibiting signs of nervousness. The other two deer entered the thicket in which my stand was placed haphazardly...the big boy was not so sure. He sniffed the ground where my footprints were in the snow, walked forward, swung his head down and up quickly, suspicious.

I quickly assessed my situation. Clear shot at the 8 pointer slightly quartering away at 15 yards, or, potential shot at the monarch broadside at 25 yards in a few seconds/steps if he stays on his current left to right path skirting my stand thicket, but a very narrow shooting lane. Decision needed NOW. The decision was the monarch, of course. I got the gun up, a New England Firearms "Sidekick" muzzle-loader with fiber optic sights, and swung with the deer evenly. The deer stepped four times and had his vitals in the shooting lane. I whistled lightly and he stopped. I touched the trigger, heard the snap cap go "pop"...and watched the startled deer take two steps to the right before the follow up "BANG" of the pyrodex powder ignition. The deer squatted at the shot. It was chaos...smoke in my eyes, attempting shot follow through but incredulous and panicked at what I thought probably just happened. Two trophy bucks and a doe running in confused circles under my feet. Physiological reactions to the situation manifesting themselves in my body as I tried, futilely, to reload a muzzle-loader while balancing in a tree-stand wearing a f*#@-ing moon-walking suit. Total soup sandwich.

The big deer ran down the logging trail and I listened for any tell-tale crash but heard none. The other buck stood and stared at me loading my gun, at about 100 yards, right up until I finally had the thing loaded and ready to go. Then he bounded away. It was quiet. I had a bad feeling, like I imagine a professional football player feels when he realizes that the Superbowl has just been lost by one point with seconds remaining on a 3 pt kick that was somehow blocked.

I waited for the woods to settle down and for my hands to stop shaking. I realized that light was fading fast, so rather than wait the obligatory 30 minutes, I descended and slowly puzzled through the tracks in the snow to the point where the buck stood when I shot. It was brushy. I could see the impact of the bullet in the dirt, where it had kicked particles of frozen mud into the pure white snow. There was neither hair nor blood. I looked back upwards toward my stand and guessed at the angle of the bullet. There was a twig recently broken, hanging awkwardly, in the path. Damn... very bad luck. Hit a branch, deflected the bullet. Game over. I blew it.

Antlers come and go.

Tonight, and last night I have sat in the same tree-stand, more out of penance than passion. I have been over the scene many times to be sure I didn't miss something; a speck of blood, a hair. Nothing. Nada. The red gods graced me with a consolation prize tonight, unexpectedly. I shall try once, only once, again and finally, on the morrow.

Home for the Holiday

The in-laws came Downeast for the extended Thanksgiving weekend. The past couple years my father-in-law, Ken, and I have hunted deer together at Thanksgiving, sort of continuing the tradition my dad and I began when I was a pup. My dad gave up hunting a few years ago, so our tradition now is for me to call him after I get in from deer hunting.


Thursday morning was crispy, upper 20s firming up the rain of the preceding day. I dropped Ken off in the dark to walk to his tree stand, then continued on to my parking spot. I had a quick half mile walk to where I'd left my climber attached to an oak looking over a fairly open side hill. The deer and bears had been feeding on acorns.


The bark of the tree was slick with an icy film, causing me to be extra careful and deliberate ascending to my perch. An hour into my sit, I was wondering when I'd be able to get out for a duck hunt... a flicker of white off to the left got my attention. Within a minute I saw it again. Through the developing fog I could make out the form of a deer facing me, head down nibbling acorns about 100 yards away, the tail occasionally twitching a flash of white. Cranked the scope to 7 power; when the head came up I could see antlers. Small antlers. This time of year, yearling head gear is first choice for choice eating... if you even have a choice. In my 8-10 hours of hunting this year, this was the first deer I'd seen, buck or doe. Around here, with a deer density well below 10 deer per square mile, it's always bucks-only hunting.


The buck was slowly heading in my direction, munching acorns. He drifted a little downslope, but still advancing in my general direction. Then he drifted into a beech thicket, and soon I lost sight of him. Then I couldn't hear foot steps. After 10 minutes of not seeing or hearing "my" buck, I started to worry he'd simply walked away. Or bedded down? I pulled out my trusty Primos "canned heat" doe bleat can. Baaa baaa. Immediately I heard foot steps, but my eyes straining through the fog failed to locate the source. Then I saw him.... walking away. Another bleat, and he's no longer walking away, now he's running away!

A year ago I used the same call to bring in (*almost* for a shot) a mature buck not 200 yards from this location. This year's buck most certainly was not high in the pecking order in these parts. A deer trotted through an opening 80 yards downslope, but I could not see antlers. Through another opening at 85 yards... I saw antlers. I was ready when the buck stopped in an opening at 90 yards. It disappeared at the shot. I kept the scope trained on the spot; 30 seconds later I saw a brief flicker of white, and began descending the tree. The buck lay dead where I shot him, the bullet entering the chest high behind the shoulder, breaking the spine. Not the preferred neck shot, but the carcasse damage wasn't too bad. And the tag was filled, duck/bird hunting opportunities awaited, no longer constrained by the concern to put deer meat in the freezer.

Propped up for draining.

Slid easily on oak leaves.

Yearling 3-point, field dressed 103. I gave dad a call, told him the story.



We arrived home for lunch to an enthusiastic reception.

Ken watched a large cow moose Thursday morning, and a doe the next. Angela hunted deer for the first time Friday morning. In 5 hours she saw no deer but plenty of sign. Seems eager to try again.

Saturday night we had a meal that needs mentioning. The whole holiday weekend was more or less a game feed, with woodcock and fresh deer tenderloin on the menu Saturday. I prepared the woodcock according to Pete's blog entry of October 08. Rave reviews from all -- the legs were especially liked by the women and boys, the breasts being craved by the men and the boys. So far I'm on the good side of the dog spirits.

The deer was delectible as well.

Canoga Creek Deer Opener 2008 (shotgun)

Rich and I had a great opening day...there are good stories to follow.

Click below on the picture for details on the buck.

Bears and Presidential Politics

For the story on how Bears and Pork are in McCain's sights, see:

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/03/09/AR2008030902152.html

The One, True, Correct Way to Hunt Big Game

I have this video on recommendation of Mr. Michael Miezzzzzzhak, of "Mr. Mike" fame. Enjoy.

New Mexico Prongs

Sorry I dont have alot of time to tell the long dragged out story but the short version is this.Last weekend I flew to New Mexico for the two day antelope season. We had a great hunt my uncle and I both shot some nice prongs. I scored mine at 83 3\8 not 100 percent sure I did it properly but he will definitely score 80 or above. Long shots in the desert but the 7MM 140 grain nosler ballistic tip did the job.

see you in the woods Eric

Trailer for future Cagey stories...stay tuned