Maine Waters

Last weekend we took the boat out on one of the many lakes in the area - Boyden Lake - for a little swimming, fishing, and picnic supper.


the serenity was only disrupted by the danged bald eagles cruising the skies and landing in the big pines along shore.

First off, Collin got a hit on his Spiderman rig too strong for him to hold onto, so I assisted.

He was pretty proud of the smallie we landed; it went backinto the depths. The perch began to hit, and pretty soon Angela caught another bass, about a 2-pounder.

A friend had mentioned fishing the drop-offs for white perch, so we went armed with worms. The fishing became very good as the sun dropped; it was hard to quit.

Now, there's a keeper!

We kept the decent sized perch (10.5-12 inches), which I filleted that night. There must be a High Life commercial about cleaning the catch... Cagey?

Heavens, they're tasty! Only hitch is the state gov has a consumption advisory on most species of warm water fish, so we end up sneaking in a couple tilapia fillets for the kids.


The perch came fast -- you could hardly keep a line in the water. Great fun for kids of all ages.

Fortunately I didn't have nav lights on the boat, so we had to quit fishing and head for the landing. Otherwise, I'd still be cleaning fish today.

That's not a fish; NOW THIS IS A FISH!

Been way to long since I posted anything on the Grousers Blog. Thought I'd share a video and a few pics I took from my Great White Shark diving trip this summer off of Dyer Island, near Kleinbaai, South Africa!

AWESOME EXPERIENCE!! We must have had 10 different Great Whites visit the boat, which made we wonder how many of these damn things might be down there cruising the island hunting for seals. Also made me wonder what this new tourist industry might be doing to potentially increase human shark conflicts. Humans = Food?

Hope everyone is doing well. Sending positive thoughts to Mo and the Tidballs!! Looking forward to seeing many of your in Wisconsin this Fall!

SafariJim

Cagey Wanted Some Good Stuff

Happy to oblige...the Anniversary Salmon. Even with tilting 'im towards the camera, he was a pretty big fish. Kisses to Mo...see you guys soon.

Moira Update

Mo has been recovering well from her spine injury, despite some scary set backs, one of which required an additional surgical procedure. She soldiers on, as does the rest of the Tidball gang. We have been overwhelmed by the outpouring of friendship and love that have been such an important part of this last week. Heartfelt thanks and gratitude for all of the support and prayers. Moira is an inspiration, a strong, tough-minded combination of grace and grit. Here is a picture of her, full-out in her passion, a sporting pursuit as well. I won't speak for all Grousers, but we are sure lucky to have the spouses we have. Let us not take these things for granted.

























Now, somebody please post some of the good stuff. I am armed with a stout bottle of Scotch (from good Sir Peter), and am in need of a good story to go with it.

Horse for Sale...

...or target practice.

For those of you that don't know, Moira was thrown from this horse Wednesday night and suffered a severe spine injury. She is in surgery today, and I am suspended in the wash of all that was, is, and will be. There have been some touch and go moments, but if the surgery goes well, she'll be walking again before we know it. Appeals to whatever gods or deities you make offerings to are appreciated.

The best cure for scurvy

Sunday morning after the grouser mini-reunion found three of us - two suffering from IPA deficiency, one scurvy free - on Seneca Lake in George's magnificent Penn Yann. Slicing through a slight chop, we trolled lures at depths from 25 to 60 feet. Lightning quick, Keith claimed the first strike for his own and soon landed a 21" lake trout. I bungled the following few, but the population was quite forgiving and we eventually landed five of 13. Even Capn. George, ravaged with manly scurvy, left the tiller once to land a magnificent 24" leviathan. Please visit me in PA Furnace if you'd like to sample trout, smoked per Moira's orders.

Fruity, Fruoffy, and other F word beers

Had a nice reunion of some grousers down at the Cayuga pond the other night... cooked up some home grown burgers and kicked back enjoying the High Life...well...some of us did. ;)

A Guide to Snakes of Whip-Poor-Will Hill

Well, two snakes so far (and one lizard: eastern fence lizard, unphotographed).

I came across this black rat snake, about three-feet long, on an old logging road below the house. The dogs ran over it, twice, and never noticed.

A few weeks ago we found a three-foot timber rattlesnake just up from the driveway. This photo was taken by my brother-in law Chris, who had never seen a rattlesnake in the wild. We came across this one as we were driving back from a nice swim at Trout Pond, the only natural lake in West Virginia. My reaction when we drove up to the snake was to stomp on the brakes and yell, "Everyone, out of the car NOW!!" so we could gather around the snake and appreciate it slithering across the road. Probably not a sound behavior from a evolutionary standpoint.

Salvelinus namaycush

A 10 dollar Cameroon wrapper "Black Opal " cigar
and a + ten pound Lake Trout
on a beautiful July morning on Seneca Lake.
Priceless.

Noz on the Rocks

As I mentioned in an earlier post, Noz loves to climb the rocks in WV. Video evidence presented.

... the shock that overrides

Came across this quote I thought I should share while doing some reading...

"I whisper thanks to the animal, hoping I might be worthy of it, worthy of carrying
on the life it has given, worthy of sharing in the larger life of which the deer and I
are a part. Incompatible emotions clash inside me—elation and remorse, excitement
and sorrow, gratitude and shame. It’s always this way: the sudden encounter with
death, the shock that overrides the cushioning of the intellect. I force away the sadness and remember that death is the spark that keeps life itself aflame (p. 263)."

Nelson, R. (1989). The island within. New York: Random House.

An Evening at the Ponds

Warm Water...good for the soul. Enough of the snooty trout, let's get muddy.

Joined up with Mr Bill's clan for an evening of dog training, burger flipping, and kid fishing.

Hannah has a new 'biggest fish', with an assist going to Ben...not Arkansas class catfish, but hey...

And even McPhee went for a swim.

15 minutes of fame?

Hate to blog right over such an...uhm...inspiring post, but here is a piece that my friend Pat Durkin just wrote for NRA's American Hunter magazine on Heberlein's deer / grouse camp 'Up North' in Wisconsin. Some of you have been there, others may be soon.

You'll notice the genesis of Conley's name. The story of me and the farm girl is true, but by today's standards would probably be rated PG-13.

Jim has assured me that pasting in a screen grab of the first page and then a link to the full article will work:

link to download full article.

If it doesn't...blame him. 'Course he's the one who's gotten me this far.

Excellence in nature reporting

hard to know whether this is for real. Enjoy.

Rain.

Ask me how my "2 dads, 4 kids, 2 wives" fathers day tent camping and trout fishing trip to Kettle Creek (Potter Co, PA) went this weekend. Nary a High Life man in sight, but I enjoyed frying bacon in ankle deep water.

Truck

in honor of Father's Day.



Some of these are just making me laugh out loud.

Fish sticks

Josh, those Miller High Life ads are fantastic. I've just spent the better part of (cough) an hour watching a ton of them. Here's one that I like:



say . . . didn't you just buy a hunting cabin with a cappuccino machine?

Ice Fishing

Wow, two posts in a day for me. A record.

Keith's earlier posting of another in this commercial series enticed me to revisit these classics:

For Your Bogsuckin', Mudbattin' Pleasure

American Woodcock Population Status Report - 2009
with love, from the good folks at USFWS (you know, people like PW).

Red Tide Hits Downeast Maine

Brody ("... from the muddy place") arrived in Bangor yesterday evening on a Northwest flight that originated in Missouri. Geographic location of breeder will weigh more heavily on pup choice next time around -- shipping a verb can be expensive! Things have changed since I paid $25 for Butch puppy's flight from Detroit (but he did share the crate with his sister).

So far, so good. Eight weeks old, first of his clan to hit the highway. Seems like a bright little devil. No accidents on the floor, didn't cry the whole night, pretty mellow (so far), and the bride and boys love him.

Pointing golden retriever? Well, officially he's a red setter (http://www.nrsftc.com/), owing to an injection of English into the Irish ancestry in the 1950s.
His dad's a field trial stud from Kansas (http://pinehollowkennel.nrsftc.com/), mom is a hunting dog from MO. He should be about 50-55 lbs (Spy's 53); he's got bits of white on the toes of his rear feet and specks of white on his armpits and chest. He'll be at rookie camp this fall. Hard to tell just yet if Spy's nose is out of joint.

Crashing the Hatch

Penns Creek, PA at Green Drake time. Hallowed ground. Maybe the Hendricksons on the Upper Delaware come close, but this really is the holy grail of eastern flyfishing. Approach on your knees with the proper reverence.

Serious guys taking themselves seriously, reminding me of the great line from Greg Brown..."looking like everything just kinda stuck to 'em the last time they walked through ol' LL Bean..." Hushed latin whisperings overheard..."ephemerella grandis...quid pro quo...sic semper tyrannis..."

And then there was us. Four or five dads, a mom or two, and five kids rampaging through the woods at the top of their lungs. Falling in, dropping cameras, throwing rocks, playing tag, occasionally making a cast or two. Random screamings. Real life. Bet the fancy guys hated it, but they probably needed it too. I know I did.

another new bird dog

all this talk of bird dog puppies has made me nostalgic . . . . Some of you grousers have been around long enough to know that the first bird dog I hunted over was our Boston terrier Lucy, and I killed one of my first-ever grouse at Connecticut Hill with Lucy's help sometime in the early 90s.

well boys and girls we're back in the Boston terrier business at Chez Tantarlow--meet Henry, named after another famous transcendentalist Bostonian who will remained unnamed.

Henry belongs to my daughter Sophia, who saved up her own money for quite some time to get him.

Don't know how he'll be on grouse, though.

Welcome Maya!

On Memorial Day weekend we came home with our new pup, Maya. My daughter Emma picked the name based on sound rather than meaning. But the various meanings (spring, renewal, rebirth) feel like good omens to me. I’m looking forward to some renewal and great days ahead. Maya, Emma, and me (maybe Ben, too, if he picks up his sister's love of dogs).

Maya is a black and white Llewellin with a half mask. The breeder thinks she will be heavily ticked, like her half sister in the photo (black is the new white!).

I am technically co-owner and co-trainer in this enterprise. I get the back end and the part that wakes up at 5am. I also get October and as much bird dog as I am willing to create. Emma gets to be a 12-year old raising a puppy and training a best buddy. I am buying Emma a set of hunting chaps and a check cord. My "No Father Left Indoors" campaign is off to a great start.


A poem just for Maya
By Emma

When I look at the rain,
I think of the saddened tears rolling off of God’s face
When I look at the babies running around and screaming,
I think of all of the mothers at the spa
When I look at the color yellow,
I think of the giant sun that is warming the hearts
and souls of others
But, when I look at my English Setter
I think of the most beautiful, elegant and graceful
dog in the world
But, the one thing that is the most important about her
is that she is my very own

New pup

A long lost member of Grousers will soon return with dogge news (the Afore mentioned Grouser is pictured here at about the time his dissertation replaced all recreational activity except the occasional visit to a bear den). Looking forward to rejoining the fold.

Landed

Kids just love the outdoors.

Twenty-seven hilly acres of sandy soil in Hampshire County, West Virginia. Huckleberries, white and chestnut oak, Virginia and Scotch pine, sassafras, hickory and honey locust. Big boulders and wet-weather creeks. Deer and turkey sign everywhere.

After many years of dreaming about it, Karin and I finally have a place to release our kids into the woods. It’s quiet there, except for the phoebe, great-crested flycatcher, chipping sparrow, pileated woodpecker, and Carolina chickadee calls – and the incessant, insistent voices of the whip-poor-wills in the evening and early morning. The house on the property is very nice, came with a cappuccino machine and has a mountain view.

The kids have already constructed a lean-to against some boulders and dammed-up a creek to make a swimming hole. My first projects are to sow native wildflower seeds over the septic drainfield, and pick out a couple trees for next season’s deer stand.

The dogges are loving the place. Nos takes particular joy in clambering up boulders to survey her new domain, Stella is excited about the infinite variety of things she can get her nose into.

The habitat looks bearish (huckleberries galore, natch), neighbors have reported seeing el bruno, but I haven’t noticed sign. No bear season in Hampshire County, but one in nearby Hardy.

On a morning walk this past weekend, I bumped a whip-poor-will. She only flew 10 feet from me, perching on a fallen log. I stared at her for a bit, then looked for her nest. I found two eggs laid on bare ground to my right. I retreated and walked back to the house to make myself a cappuccino.

Sibley’s guide says whip-poor-will chicks can fly off into the woods within ten days of hatching.

Cool.

"Why Hunt" video

pretty well done video from California Waterfowl on "Why Hunt" . . . . Enjoy.

Why Hunt from California Waterfowl on Vimeo.

Post yer Kids Fishing over Memorial day Weekend!!

Here's mine... this was Friday. There will be more if the weather holds. Click here for more of the story.

Brookies in Jefferson County

After meetings at Fort Drum and Jefferson County Extension yesterday, I slipped away for a few hours in the afternoon for some Brook Trout fishing. Had 7 on, four of which I landed, all decent fish. Caught 'em on a little terrestrial imitation of the black flying creatures that were dining on my forehead. Felts Mill Creek is a very pleasing pastoral bit of water, and 15 minutes from the extension office.

Welcome Izzy

Beer camp has a new member as of 5-7-09 and her name is Izzy. She is a small yellow lab, about 55 lbs., that Carol found through a dog rescue program in the Rochester area. She is between 6 and 8 years old and very well trained already. She comes with an existing dental problem that lead to the removal of 14 teeth earlier in the week but it appears she is handeling that well as she is eating good and shows no signs of discomfort. hopefully this will give her a soft mouth when it comes to hunting. She is very alert to birds and small animals in general. Carol is thrilled to have a dog back around the house and we look forward to enjoying her for a long time too come.

Geneva firearms auction May 9

for those of you with money or curiosity or both . . . Hessney Auction House is having a big gun auction in Geneva, NY, this Saturday, May 9.

Here's the link to the catalog listing on the web: Lots 1 - 400 are guns and decoys; lots 400 - 1200 are army surplus.

Lot 262

Great Shad Fishing Adventure of 2009

Fishing was slow--Lou caught 2 doinky little shad and I caught, as my friend Rob says, "fvck all". A comedy of errors: Fri aft Lou picked me up from the bus from NYC--we rushed back to the motel, got gear ready, and were ready to blast off to the river. Checked boat trailer lights--nothing. The aft fishing degenerated into trying to trouble shoot the trailer: checking wires, connections, etc. Cussin' Pete and Reigel the whole time for the trailer still not working right. Of course, Fri pm at 6 no real place is open, so we got to know the folks at Walmart automotive real well. Jen was kinda cute with her horse tattoo 'n all, and I did get one classic line from her:

"we don't really have any tools here".

Nice.

Finally got the bright idea to find a Lowe's (up in Port Jervis) with a utility trailer parked out back. We plugged in Lou's truck to the trailer. Nothing. A problem with the truck, rather than the trailer. Sorry Pete, sorry Eric.

Choked down a truly crappy dinner at Apple Valley (never again), had a couple of beers and fell asleep exhausted. Next day, by God screw the trailer, we were gonna fish. And we did. And not much happened (see above). Except that the motor wasn't running so well. Seemed to not be getting gas, and some disturbing white smoke. Middle of the day, Lou cut out to go to the NAPA store to get a new relay converter box for his lights. We fished until dark with one small shad that barely fought.

Back to the hotel with a pizza. Let's work on replacing the relay box. Yeah right.
His wiring system had 5 wires, this box had 4. No biggie says Lou--we'll just cut this red one. Say WHAAAAT? And the helluva it was, it actually worked. Triumph!! Boat loaded for the morn, ready to go--THIS TIME, we're gonna kill 'em. On the water early. Full of coffee and hope. Load the boat, stow the gear, and...yank the starter cord on the outboard. A lot. Nothing. Smell of gas. Lots of gas. Hmmm...gas dripping in the river. That can't be good. Open the cowling. Squeeze the pressure bulb. Hmmmm...why is gas spraying all over the inside of the motor every time the bulb is squeezed? Seems to be coming out of that little crack there...

Checkmate. I told Lou it took me back to being 8 yrs old and wanting so badly to fish while my grandpa screwed around with machinery---lesson being that these things never work right.

Thus endeth the great Shad expedition of 2009. Better luck next year?

Lou--who is currently all geeked up on Springsteen because he is playing State College (!!!) on Friday night, made the following changes (6 letters only!!) to his classic "Badlands". To wit...

Shadlands, you gotta live it everyday

Let the broken hearts stand

As the price you've gotta pay

We'll keep Fishin' till it's understood

and these Shadlands start treating us good

I guess we have to go back!

More misadventures in backyard varmint shooting

Reynard meets his demise

Sluiced the first fox of 2009 yesterday. My daughter Sophia had spotted him while she was doing her homework on the kitchen counter. This one was tricky because of the tough angle he initially presented through the swingset. I also had a tough time setting up into position on the back mudroom steps because of my gunshy lab getting in the way.

Finally he moved away from the swingset, and I put a bead on him and fired away. He flipped over, but incredibly came back to life, got up, and started walking away with our less than one year old camper directly behind him.

I waited for him to clear the trailer's tires, with the knowledge he had but five feet to crawl off into the bushes. I figured the bullet would go through him and end up in the ground under the camper somewhere. So then I shot him a second time, and he was down for good.

Unfortunately these Federal Nosler tips do a hell of a lot of damage at 60 yards (or 600 yards for that matter), and when I arrived at the scene of the crime there was fox blood, guts, and tissue sprayed all over the side of the camper. What a mess.

And of course, in the five minutes it took me to get the hoses connected to clean it off, the little bits and pieces of fox gore had all baked hard and dry on the camper walls in the late afternoon sun. I didn't have a scrub brush so I used my fingernails.

What's more, is that of course all of our garden hoses had decided to crack over the winter, leaving me with an intermittently but nicely watered lawn along the hose path and severely depleted water pressure at the hose's end 100 yards from the house. I can tell you now that cleaning dried guts with reduced water pressure is like using a squirt gun to wash three day old dirty dishes.

Twenty minutes later the camper was clean and I was resolved never to shoot a fox in front of the camper again.

kids don't try this at home

Didjya hear?

Newsflash.

Doctor Richard C Stedman is negotiating with Riegel Marine for Naval Fleet Expansion (from 0 frigates to 1 frigate). Apparently the cut and pasting has gotten under his skin and now we wait in breathless anticipation for the HMS Authentica.

Preview below.

Ernie smelled a rat . . .

and here we have conclusive evidence of the real truth of the weekend's trolling.

fish Cagey claims to have caught

Spring Trolling

With frozen hands,

tossed around on Cayuga's cruelest April waters,

I wallow in prehistoric pike snot, smelling of my youth.

Whenever I twist longnose pliers to treble hook shank, my grandfather is near,

although I never called him "grandfather".

Cagey meanwhile soldiers on, defending our shores and loved ones

from the German immigrants, more democratic than the natives,

as they bring the depths of the lake up, up, up

into the towns, forests and fields

during the uncertain verb seasons.

Steelhead Weekend

This past weekend a few Grousers kicked off the 2009 fishing season with some Steelhead fishing on a Lake Ontario Tributary called Sterling Creek. The photos and video below tell the story.





























No Grousers gathering would be complete without some low level argument about something. Rich and I hashed over the reclassification of Steelhead. To wit, the following from a NOAA web site:

Until 1988, steelhead (the anadromous form of rainbow trout) was classified in the genus Salmo along with Atlantic salmon, brown trout, and several western trout species. With additional osteology and biochemistry data, biologists have now reclassified steelhead as members of the genus Oncorhynchus. The reason for this is that new information suggested that steelhead are more closely related to Pacific salmon than to brown trout and Atlantic salmon. As such, the American Fisheries Society - American Society of Ichthyologists Committee on Names of Fishes voted unanimously to accept Oncorhynchus as the proper generic name. For full scientific details, see Smith, G. R., and R. F. Stearley. 1989. The classification and scientific names of rainbow and cutthroat trouts. Fisheries 14 (1): 4-10. As such, the scientific name of steelhead was changed from Salmo gairdneri to Oncorhynchus mykiss. The generic names of the golden, Mexican golden, Gila, and Apache trouts were also changed to Oncorhynchus. Since all of these western trouts including steelhead are biologically capable of repeat spawning and do not die after spawning, it has been suggested this group be called the Pacific trout.

It was a great weekend of fishing and grousing.

COYOTE UGLY

I caught this big male crossing a field on the Canoga Creek Conservancy the other day. Since the season is open and I happened to have a .223 in the truck, I decided to take crack at him. He was about 200 yds out, but the 55gr full metal jacket found its mark. He ran to the edge of the field and it was all over.

See you in the field.

Eric