Adirondack Moose
I blame it all on the kids practicing their tuba on the deck of the cabin. Ever since they did that moose have been moving closer and closer. Should have had them (the kids) wait until NY had a moose season.
Showing posts with label Adirondacks. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Adirondacks. Show all posts
Friday, October 12, 2012
Adirondack Moose
My buddy Mark from up in the Adirondacks posted this photo on Facebook yesterday. As you can see it comes from a game camera on September 18, 2012. Mark says it was taken just 8 miles east of the Bolt Hole.
I blame it all on the kids practicing their tuba on the deck of the cabin. Ever since they did that moose have been moving closer and closer. Should have had them (the kids) wait until NY had a moose season.
I blame it all on the kids practicing their tuba on the deck of the cabin. Ever since they did that moose have been moving closer and closer. Should have had them (the kids) wait until NY had a moose season.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Adirondack Air Force
I’m not the only one who has made mention of the Adirondack Air Force: Biting Insect Grand Slam
The good news is that with the current warm spell, we may see the black fly numbers dop sooner rather than later to their usual summer levels. It takes about two weeks of really warm temperatures to get them all out of the streams, feeding and then laying eggs and dying.
Unfortunately, deer flies, mosquitoes and no-see-ums will be around until the first good frost. (Although, dry weather will cause the mosquitoes and no-see-ums to decline.)
The good news is that with the current warm spell, we may see the black fly numbers dop sooner rather than later to their usual summer levels. It takes about two weeks of really warm temperatures to get them all out of the streams, feeding and then laying eggs and dying.
Unfortunately, deer flies, mosquitoes and no-see-ums will be around until the first good frost. (Although, dry weather will cause the mosquitoes and no-see-ums to decline.)
Thursday, June 12, 2008
What I forgot to tell you...
I hadn't realized I was idle from Sunday until today on this here blog. Part of that I blame on being tied to a dial-up connection while I was at the Bolt Hole--and a relatively slow one at that. The rest I'll blame on the heat and humidity I experienced while I was there.
I was lucky to get the grass cut on Saturday for the heat index rose perceptively by Sunday and got only worse on Monday and Tuesday. While the temperature nudged 90 (and may have crossed the line a little) the humidity kept pace and every movement produced copious amounts of perspiration.
Add the pesky black flies to the mix and there was little incentive to go outside and do anything. Even sitting inside with several fans circulating air didn't produce much relief.
I had an appointment with National Grid on Monday morning. Apparently my electric meter wasn't being read by their remote sensing devices. They drive up the road and turn around at my gate which is about 200 feet away from the meter. Their remote reader is supposed to pick up a reading from as much as 500 feet away but they weren't getting a reading. I didn't tell the tech who showed up that they might not have been getting a high enough reading because the only things on for the last three months were a single fluorescent light in the kitchen and the refrigerator--which would not be pulling much juice because 1- the doors were kept closed and 2- it's been bloody cold. Oh, and a digital clock in the bedroom and another on the microwave.(I really need to unplug that when I leave.)
Anyway, the tech made the 50 mile drive from his base at Old Forge to swap out my meter and he was nice and early on Monday morning. He had come and gone by 9:30 AM.
Even so, that was late enough for the warmth of the day to awaken the dreaded black flies. As the tech and I stood and talked, their numbers grew and grew. By the time he left there must have been four or five million of the little bastards out and about. (Or should that be "bitches" since the female of the species is the one that requires the blood meal to lay her eggs?)
Of course that was when I had to go out and load the brush hog into the truck to take it to the repair shop. I tucked my pants into my boots and donned my long sleeve shirt, bandanna, ball cap and copious amounts of Deep Woods Off and set to it. It took me but 15 minutes to load and tie down the brush hog spurred on as I was by my flying companions, then it was time to drive the 35 miles to the shop.
I really didn't mind when the repairman told me it might cost $250-300 to have the oil changed, blade sharpened, throttle cable and belts replaced, and to get it started and running. (Might be more if he has to rebuilt/replace the carburetor.) I've had the machine for about 15 years and this is the first time it's been in the shop. (A walk behind, self propelled, DR Field and Brush Mower with a Briggs & Stratton engine. Excellent machine. But mine doesn't look anything like this: DR Field and Brush Mower, after all, mines 15 years old.)
It took me almost three hours to make the trip to and back from the repair shop with a lunch stop thrown in. But I didn't mind. There were no black flies inside the truck (well, not many) and truck has a very good AC.
The remainder of Monday was one of a short walk in the woods (amazingly, there were no black flies once under the the trees and only a few deer flies) and then just sitting around reading and doing crossword puzzles.
Tuesday wasn't much different. Very early in the morning (like from 6 to 7 AM) I could take a brief walk about the property and into the woods. After 8 AM, the flies were awake and hungry. Around noon or so I had a brief but heavy rain shower that dropped the temperature from 85 to 65 for about, oh 15 minutes before the temp rose again to 85 with humidity in the 90% plus range. For a time, it looked like that was going to be all the rain I got. Looking at the weather map showed heavy and severe storms to the east and another long line to the west but they were sliding to the northeast and I was in the slot between them.
Ah, but the ones to the west were actually the edge of a cold front that was also moving my way. I missed much of the severe weather, but around 7 PM one thunderstorm moved directly over me. For half an hour I could see the lightening, hear a sizzle in the air and then hear the boom of the thunder as rain came down in quantity. I would say that in that half hour I got well over an inch of rain--maybe even two. I know a bucket outside rose about 4 inches but it was slightly tapered and that would cause a false reading.
After the storms passed the temperatures slowly dropped into the 50s and then upper 40s during the night. Excellent sleeping weather. I learned later that there were massive power outages to my west and to my east. All I suffered was a temporary flicker of lights and slowdown of fans.
Wednesday morning was spent cleaning up and packing the truck for my return to the Aerie.
I didn't manage to duplicate my 20 mpg on the way home. While my trip up from NJ was via the NY Thruway most of the way, half of the ride home was by way of Rt 13 which took me through Ithaca (lots of stoplights) and many a small town and village where I was forced to slow down to 45 and 35 mph. I learned that the Tundra definitely prefers to cruise at 60-65 mph by watching the on board mpg calculator. Thirty-five and 45 mph it doesn't like as much.
I was lucky to get the grass cut on Saturday for the heat index rose perceptively by Sunday and got only worse on Monday and Tuesday. While the temperature nudged 90 (and may have crossed the line a little) the humidity kept pace and every movement produced copious amounts of perspiration.
Add the pesky black flies to the mix and there was little incentive to go outside and do anything. Even sitting inside with several fans circulating air didn't produce much relief.
I had an appointment with National Grid on Monday morning. Apparently my electric meter wasn't being read by their remote sensing devices. They drive up the road and turn around at my gate which is about 200 feet away from the meter. Their remote reader is supposed to pick up a reading from as much as 500 feet away but they weren't getting a reading. I didn't tell the tech who showed up that they might not have been getting a high enough reading because the only things on for the last three months were a single fluorescent light in the kitchen and the refrigerator--which would not be pulling much juice because 1- the doors were kept closed and 2- it's been bloody cold. Oh, and a digital clock in the bedroom and another on the microwave.(I really need to unplug that when I leave.)
Anyway, the tech made the 50 mile drive from his base at Old Forge to swap out my meter and he was nice and early on Monday morning. He had come and gone by 9:30 AM.
Even so, that was late enough for the warmth of the day to awaken the dreaded black flies. As the tech and I stood and talked, their numbers grew and grew. By the time he left there must have been four or five million of the little bastards out and about. (Or should that be "bitches" since the female of the species is the one that requires the blood meal to lay her eggs?)
Of course that was when I had to go out and load the brush hog into the truck to take it to the repair shop. I tucked my pants into my boots and donned my long sleeve shirt, bandanna, ball cap and copious amounts of Deep Woods Off and set to it. It took me but 15 minutes to load and tie down the brush hog spurred on as I was by my flying companions, then it was time to drive the 35 miles to the shop.
I really didn't mind when the repairman told me it might cost $250-300 to have the oil changed, blade sharpened, throttle cable and belts replaced, and to get it started and running. (Might be more if he has to rebuilt/replace the carburetor.) I've had the machine for about 15 years and this is the first time it's been in the shop. (A walk behind, self propelled, DR Field and Brush Mower with a Briggs & Stratton engine. Excellent machine. But mine doesn't look anything like this: DR Field and Brush Mower, after all, mines 15 years old.)
It took me almost three hours to make the trip to and back from the repair shop with a lunch stop thrown in. But I didn't mind. There were no black flies inside the truck (well, not many) and truck has a very good AC.
The remainder of Monday was one of a short walk in the woods (amazingly, there were no black flies once under the the trees and only a few deer flies) and then just sitting around reading and doing crossword puzzles.
Tuesday wasn't much different. Very early in the morning (like from 6 to 7 AM) I could take a brief walk about the property and into the woods. After 8 AM, the flies were awake and hungry. Around noon or so I had a brief but heavy rain shower that dropped the temperature from 85 to 65 for about, oh 15 minutes before the temp rose again to 85 with humidity in the 90% plus range. For a time, it looked like that was going to be all the rain I got. Looking at the weather map showed heavy and severe storms to the east and another long line to the west but they were sliding to the northeast and I was in the slot between them.
Ah, but the ones to the west were actually the edge of a cold front that was also moving my way. I missed much of the severe weather, but around 7 PM one thunderstorm moved directly over me. For half an hour I could see the lightening, hear a sizzle in the air and then hear the boom of the thunder as rain came down in quantity. I would say that in that half hour I got well over an inch of rain--maybe even two. I know a bucket outside rose about 4 inches but it was slightly tapered and that would cause a false reading.
After the storms passed the temperatures slowly dropped into the 50s and then upper 40s during the night. Excellent sleeping weather. I learned later that there were massive power outages to my west and to my east. All I suffered was a temporary flicker of lights and slowdown of fans.
Wednesday morning was spent cleaning up and packing the truck for my return to the Aerie.
I didn't manage to duplicate my 20 mpg on the way home. While my trip up from NJ was via the NY Thruway most of the way, half of the ride home was by way of Rt 13 which took me through Ithaca (lots of stoplights) and many a small town and village where I was forced to slow down to 45 and 35 mph. I learned that the Tundra definitely prefers to cruise at 60-65 mph by watching the on board mpg calculator. Thirty-five and 45 mph it doesn't like as much.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Bats are in trouble.
No one is sure what's happening to the bats in southern New England, but it's not good. If this keeps up there's going to be a decided unbalance of power in the Adirondack air wars.
Bats Perish, and No One Knows Why
I'm going to have to stock up on more citrinella candles and DEET. The bats are major factors in keeping night flying insect pests under control. They do a job on both mosquitoes and moths. If bat numbers nose dive, you can be sure these insects will experience a population boom.
Bats Perish, and No One Knows Why
Wildlife biologists fear a significant die-off in about 15 caves and mines in New York, as well as at sites in Massachusetts and Vermont. Whatever is killing the bats leaves them unusually thin and, in some cases, dotted with a white fungus. Bat experts fear that what they call White Nose Syndrome may spell doom for several species that keep insect pests under control.
Researchers have yet to determine whether the bats are being killed by a virus, bacteria, toxin, environmental hazard, metabolic disorder or fungus. Some have been found with pneumonia, but that and the fungus are believed to be secondary symptoms.
I'm going to have to stock up on more citrinella candles and DEET. The bats are major factors in keeping night flying insect pests under control. They do a job on both mosquitoes and moths. If bat numbers nose dive, you can be sure these insects will experience a population boom.
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Heading north
I'll be hitting the road to the Bolt Hole in just a few minutes. It's going to take me all morning to drive there and, I suspect, much of the afternoon to clear the driveway and get the cabin warm.
I'll be back on line (dial-up service only) later this evening and I'll let you know what I find. (I expect there will be lots and lots of snow on the ground and on the roof, but we'll see.)
I'll spend the next couple of days shoveling snow off roofs and using the snow thrower to clear my driveway and Mark's. I hope to get it done before there's any more freezing rain. That stuff just packs the snow into ice cubes and the thrower can't chunk it up too well.
I'll be back on line (dial-up service only) later this evening and I'll let you know what I find. (I expect there will be lots and lots of snow on the ground and on the roof, but we'll see.)
I'll spend the next couple of days shoveling snow off roofs and using the snow thrower to clear my driveway and Mark's. I hope to get it done before there's any more freezing rain. That stuff just packs the snow into ice cubes and the thrower can't chunk it up too well.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
The Obligatory Dead Deer Pic
As I mentioned yesterday, I finally found a white-tail buck careless enough to appear during the day here at the Bolt Hole.
It's a 4-pointer although you can't tell from this picture. He ran smack dab into a six inch hemlock tree as he bolted after being shot. Pure adrenaline. The shot took him through the scapula of one foreleg and through the lungs. He dropped 40 yards from where he stood when the 130-grain .270 hit him.
The butchering of the deer was the most difficult part of the day. I take the sculptor's approach to butchering. I start with a whole deer and carve away everything that is not edible. Except for the filet and tenderloins--the two cuts even I can identify, I bone the rest of the muscles out and then decide if it looks like a roast, can be cut into a steak, or if it should be chunked up for stew meat or to be ground in to chop meat. When I'm done I've got 50-60 pounds of meat and no bones to occupy freezer space.
It's a 4-pointer although you can't tell from this picture. He ran smack dab into a six inch hemlock tree as he bolted after being shot. Pure adrenaline. The shot took him through the scapula of one foreleg and through the lungs. He dropped 40 yards from where he stood when the 130-grain .270 hit him.
The butchering of the deer was the most difficult part of the day. I take the sculptor's approach to butchering. I start with a whole deer and carve away everything that is not edible. Except for the filet and tenderloins--the two cuts even I can identify, I bone the rest of the muscles out and then decide if it looks like a roast, can be cut into a steak, or if it should be chunked up for stew meat or to be ground in to chop meat. When I'm done I've got 50-60 pounds of meat and no bones to occupy freezer space.
Monday, November 12, 2007
Success!
I had planned to pack up the Bolt Hole and head back to the Aerie this afternoon but that will have to be postponed.
Before leaving I thought I would take one more slow walk with my friend the .270 and see if we could find one of the elusive white-tails.
First I went over and walked behind Mark's place because the wind was blowing in the right direction but, while the crunchy snow and leaves made the walk a bit noise for me and the deer didn't cooperate. I didn't see or hear any of them.
Then I started to walk the edge of the field on my side where some grass has been exposed and the wild honeysuckle still has leaves the deer apparently like to nibble. (Many sets of tracks we saw Saturday and Sunday detoured over to the shrub-like growths to nip at the leaves. They were also chomping on the apple buds and gnawing the tips of many of the small tree's branches.) I had barely started my walk when I spied a large brown body grazing some grasses about 75 yards ahead of me. I was standing in a patch of bare grass and my feet made no sound ass I adjusted my position and raised the rifle to my shoulder. Through the scope I could clearly see that the deer had antlers but it was not one of the big bucks we had seen earlier in the year. It took two steps toward me as it continued to graze and turned broadside. Setting the cross hairs of the scope on the shoulder I clicked off the safety and pulled the trigger.
The deer was hit! It turned and bound away through a thicket and I heard it crash into a small hemlock and then silence. I waited a few minutes and walked to where it was standing when I shot. There was blood scattered all over the snow behind where it was standing and all along the path of its "escape" route. Less than forty yards from where I had shot it, it was laying dead on the ground. I noticed it had broken off one of its antlers in its dash through the trees but I was able to find it and confirm that this deer had been a four pointer having two points on each side.
Now came the difficult part. Luckily it wasn't too far from one of the several ATV trails so I went back to the garage and got my machine. Gutting the deer took about 30 minutes and then I loaded it onto the back of the ATV and hauled it back to the barn where it is now hanging. This afternoon I'll rig up a table and start the butchering process.
This is only the second deer I've seen since hunting season began. The other fell to an arrow back in October. Neither was vary large, the first had spikes and this was a fork horn, but like I've said, "You can't eat the horns."
Suddenly my feet don't hurt as much as they did when I woke up.
Before leaving I thought I would take one more slow walk with my friend the .270 and see if we could find one of the elusive white-tails.
First I went over and walked behind Mark's place because the wind was blowing in the right direction but, while the crunchy snow and leaves made the walk a bit noise for me and the deer didn't cooperate. I didn't see or hear any of them.
Then I started to walk the edge of the field on my side where some grass has been exposed and the wild honeysuckle still has leaves the deer apparently like to nibble. (Many sets of tracks we saw Saturday and Sunday detoured over to the shrub-like growths to nip at the leaves. They were also chomping on the apple buds and gnawing the tips of many of the small tree's branches.) I had barely started my walk when I spied a large brown body grazing some grasses about 75 yards ahead of me. I was standing in a patch of bare grass and my feet made no sound ass I adjusted my position and raised the rifle to my shoulder. Through the scope I could clearly see that the deer had antlers but it was not one of the big bucks we had seen earlier in the year. It took two steps toward me as it continued to graze and turned broadside. Setting the cross hairs of the scope on the shoulder I clicked off the safety and pulled the trigger.
The deer was hit! It turned and bound away through a thicket and I heard it crash into a small hemlock and then silence. I waited a few minutes and walked to where it was standing when I shot. There was blood scattered all over the snow behind where it was standing and all along the path of its "escape" route. Less than forty yards from where I had shot it, it was laying dead on the ground. I noticed it had broken off one of its antlers in its dash through the trees but I was able to find it and confirm that this deer had been a four pointer having two points on each side.
Now came the difficult part. Luckily it wasn't too far from one of the several ATV trails so I went back to the garage and got my machine. Gutting the deer took about 30 minutes and then I loaded it onto the back of the ATV and hauled it back to the barn where it is now hanging. This afternoon I'll rig up a table and start the butchering process.
This is only the second deer I've seen since hunting season began. The other fell to an arrow back in October. Neither was vary large, the first had spikes and this was a fork horn, but like I've said, "You can't eat the horns."
Suddenly my feet don't hurt as much as they did when I woke up.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Deer Hunting
So, why am I blogging about football when I'm in the north country to hunt deer?
When I left headed to the Bolt Hole it was to take advantage of the fresh snow on the ground to locate another buck. I wasn't disappointed by the snow. It was still on the ground and remains there even though we have had some clear, sunny days. Temperatures in the low thirties during the day and as low as 15 at daybreak will do that. Unfortunately, those really cold mornings made walking in the woods like treading on cornflakes. Every step produced a crunch that you would swear could be heard 10 miles away.
As for fresh tracks, yeah there are some of those. There are also lots of tracks from Wednesday's snowfall and there really hasn't been any fresh flurries to help delineate the old from the new.
Mark and I have been working as a team--although he has been doing most of the work. He says he likes going into what he calls "Rambo mode" and traipsing through the woods. So I've been picking a spot that offers some viewing in a particular area and he has gone walking with the intention of trying to spook a deer my way or, if he can get close enough, get a shot off himself. The results have been a little disheartening. While he has spooked up some deer, they have either been too far away for him to get a shot (blame the crunching snow), in thick hemlock groves where he had limited sight lines, or heading in a direction away from me as well. Sometimes all three have occurred on the same walk.
Me? I haven't seen any of the deer he keeps telling me via radio that he has kicked up. (Actually, there weren't that many.) Personally, I think he's hired an army of little people walking on stilts that have cloven hooves on the end to make the tracks we've seen in the snow. That or the Jersey Devil has relocated north. Hey, it could happen. Lots of people are leaving New Jersey.
I guess that's why they call it "hunting" and not "killing".
Despite my limited walking (compared to Mark) my feet are killing me. I don't know if it's bone bruises, spurs or plantar fascia but something is really hurting in both of my heels and gel pads and inserts aren't helping any. If I wake up tomorrow feeling as badly as I do now, I'll be out of here by noon. Which might not be a bad thing anyway since the weather wizards are predicting some freezing rain for tomorrow night.
When I left headed to the Bolt Hole it was to take advantage of the fresh snow on the ground to locate another buck. I wasn't disappointed by the snow. It was still on the ground and remains there even though we have had some clear, sunny days. Temperatures in the low thirties during the day and as low as 15 at daybreak will do that. Unfortunately, those really cold mornings made walking in the woods like treading on cornflakes. Every step produced a crunch that you would swear could be heard 10 miles away.
As for fresh tracks, yeah there are some of those. There are also lots of tracks from Wednesday's snowfall and there really hasn't been any fresh flurries to help delineate the old from the new.
Mark and I have been working as a team--although he has been doing most of the work. He says he likes going into what he calls "Rambo mode" and traipsing through the woods. So I've been picking a spot that offers some viewing in a particular area and he has gone walking with the intention of trying to spook a deer my way or, if he can get close enough, get a shot off himself. The results have been a little disheartening. While he has spooked up some deer, they have either been too far away for him to get a shot (blame the crunching snow), in thick hemlock groves where he had limited sight lines, or heading in a direction away from me as well. Sometimes all three have occurred on the same walk.
Me? I haven't seen any of the deer he keeps telling me via radio that he has kicked up. (Actually, there weren't that many.) Personally, I think he's hired an army of little people walking on stilts that have cloven hooves on the end to make the tracks we've seen in the snow. That or the Jersey Devil has relocated north. Hey, it could happen. Lots of people are leaving New Jersey.
I guess that's why they call it "hunting" and not "killing".
Despite my limited walking (compared to Mark) my feet are killing me. I don't know if it's bone bruises, spurs or plantar fascia but something is really hurting in both of my heels and gel pads and inserts aren't helping any. If I wake up tomorrow feeling as badly as I do now, I'll be out of here by noon. Which might not be a bad thing anyway since the weather wizards are predicting some freezing rain for tomorrow night.
Sunday, November 04, 2007
Still no deer.
Mark and I went and sat in the woods much of the day. Going out in the morning wasn't too bad despite the low temperature (between 25 and 30 degrees) and heavy frost. The frost actually helped soften the leaves on the ground and made them somewhat quiet to walk upon. As the sun got rid of the frost, however, the leaves became crunchy and it was like walking on cornflakes. Luckily for me, I was sitting by the time that occurred and I was able to hear the occasional red squirrel hustling across the leaves and the stray hunter walk down the trail several hundred yards away from me.
This afternoon we had the worst possible conditions for still hunting with all those crunchy leaves underfoot so I opted to sit again while Mark did some wandering.
Neither Mark nor I saw a deer all day. We did, however see at least ten other hunters either on the property we were hunting or on land adjacent to it. That contributed to my choosing to sit in one spot. I hoped these other hunters would stir the deer up and send them my way. It didn't happen. In fact, we heard only two shots anywhere near us and they were probably at the same deer as they occurred less than a minute apart around nine in the morning. Mark wandered over to the area he thought the shots came from and could hear voices raise in successful joy but never spotted the hunters nor signs of any kill.
Mark has left to go back to work tomorrow and I'll be closing up the Bolt Hole in the morning as a cold front is threatening to bring low temps and even some measurable amounts of snow later in the week. I may return to hunt over the weekends (the north zone season goes until December 2nd) but I hesitate to spend a great deal more time here on my own. First is the safety issue and second is that I would much rather spend some time with the spousal unit.
Then there is the Pennsylvania season right around the corner.
This afternoon we had the worst possible conditions for still hunting with all those crunchy leaves underfoot so I opted to sit again while Mark did some wandering.
Neither Mark nor I saw a deer all day. We did, however see at least ten other hunters either on the property we were hunting or on land adjacent to it. That contributed to my choosing to sit in one spot. I hoped these other hunters would stir the deer up and send them my way. It didn't happen. In fact, we heard only two shots anywhere near us and they were probably at the same deer as they occurred less than a minute apart around nine in the morning. Mark wandered over to the area he thought the shots came from and could hear voices raise in successful joy but never spotted the hunters nor signs of any kill.
Mark has left to go back to work tomorrow and I'll be closing up the Bolt Hole in the morning as a cold front is threatening to bring low temps and even some measurable amounts of snow later in the week. I may return to hunt over the weekends (the north zone season goes until December 2nd) but I hesitate to spend a great deal more time here on my own. First is the safety issue and second is that I would much rather spend some time with the spousal unit.
Then there is the Pennsylvania season right around the corner.
Saturday, November 03, 2007
No deer, but a nice day all the same.
Spent the morning still hunting (slow walking) the woods with my buddy Mark. We walked parallel trails about 3-400 yards from one another until I got to a prearranged point. I stopped and sat while he continued on to a cross trail. Then I walked to the same trail and we met one another. We didn't see any deer but we did locate several scrapes that were recently worked by the deer. That gave us a couple of optioins for this afternoon.
We both had some errands to run and agreed we would not wait for the other before heading back out in the afternoon. I got done first and went to sit on a ridge overlooking a couple of scrapes we found in the morning. When I got to the ridge I found several piles of recent deer droppings including some that felt/appeared to have been left this morning. Perhaps the deer was here when I walked by and slipped out when I went passed. It certainly had the high ground and wind advantage at that time.
Mark returned several hours later and went to a spot about 400 yards from where I was sitting. He spooked up a buck while walking in but it went in a direction opposite from where I was and, Mark thinks, then circled back behind Mark never to be seen again.
Neither of us saw another deer all afternoon. Tomorrow we play the same game again. This time I'll be keeping a careful eye on that skyline and hope to spot the deer before it can disappear.
We both had some errands to run and agreed we would not wait for the other before heading back out in the afternoon. I got done first and went to sit on a ridge overlooking a couple of scrapes we found in the morning. When I got to the ridge I found several piles of recent deer droppings including some that felt/appeared to have been left this morning. Perhaps the deer was here when I walked by and slipped out when I went passed. It certainly had the high ground and wind advantage at that time.
Mark returned several hours later and went to a spot about 400 yards from where I was sitting. He spooked up a buck while walking in but it went in a direction opposite from where I was and, Mark thinks, then circled back behind Mark never to be seen again.
Neither of us saw another deer all afternoon. Tomorrow we play the same game again. This time I'll be keeping a careful eye on that skyline and hope to spot the deer before it can disappear.
Thursday, November 01, 2007
Back to the Adirondacks
I'll be heading back up to the Bolt Hole in a few minutes. Have to transfer some of the "stuff" from the old truck into the new one and load up my clothes and hunting gear first. I also want to let the cold front that moved through early this morning to sweep a bit more to the east-northeast so it won't be raining all the way up to the cabin.
Of course being at the Bolt Hole means I'll be using dial-up service again and I'll miss any and all football games that are on ESPN or any other cable channel.
I'm going up to do two things.
First and foremost I want to see if I can connect with any buck that might be roaming the beech woods. That might be harder than expected. The last deer we saw was the one I shot with the bow. Not even a tail, rub or scrape has been visible since then. Part of the problem might be the warmer than usual weather but that can't account for the complete disappearance of all the deer. Pressure from other hunters hasn't been too great either. With the two hunters passing away while in the pursuit of deer on the last two opening days, the number of hunters in the area has decreased a tad as their buddies have steered clear of our rugged little corner of the Adirondack Park.
Secondly, I need to close up the cabin for the winter. Night time temperatures have been well below freezing the last week and are forecast to continue that trend--probably until May. Even though the daytime temps have been into the 40s and even low 50s, I'll need to start thinking about draining the water lines and winterizing the plumbing when I leave.
Of course being at the Bolt Hole means I'll be using dial-up service again and I'll miss any and all football games that are on ESPN or any other cable channel.
I'm going up to do two things.
First and foremost I want to see if I can connect with any buck that might be roaming the beech woods. That might be harder than expected. The last deer we saw was the one I shot with the bow. Not even a tail, rub or scrape has been visible since then. Part of the problem might be the warmer than usual weather but that can't account for the complete disappearance of all the deer. Pressure from other hunters hasn't been too great either. With the two hunters passing away while in the pursuit of deer on the last two opening days, the number of hunters in the area has decreased a tad as their buddies have steered clear of our rugged little corner of the Adirondack Park.
Secondly, I need to close up the cabin for the winter. Night time temperatures have been well below freezing the last week and are forecast to continue that trend--probably until May. Even though the daytime temps have been into the 40s and even low 50s, I'll need to start thinking about draining the water lines and winterizing the plumbing when I leave.
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Tragedy Strikes Again
I’m troubled by what I have to report tonight.
If you recall, last year on opening day of the muzzle loader season in the North Zone (AKA the Adirondacks) a camp to the west had a hunter go out and not return. He passed away of a massive heart attack on the trail in the woods. Crews from the state troopers, the DEC and a friend of mine spent a good portion of the night and a few hours the next morning combing the woods before they located his body. (See my post Tragedy In the North Country for the full story.)
Today was opening day of the regular rifle season in the North Zone and it was déjà vu all over again. Except this time the hunter wasn’t in the woods. One of the hunters from the camp to the east of the Bolt Hole was going up the snowmobile trail to set up for an afternoon hunt. A second hunter left a short time afterward to catch up with him and the two were to sit while another group pushed deer in their direction.
Never happened.
As hunter number two progressed up the trail, he came upon the body of hunter number one laying in the middle of the trail. Carl, hunter number one, had died on his way up the trail. Apparently he had a heart attack.
While no search was necessary this time, the State Troopers, DEC and the local ambulance crew responded to the call and Chevy Suburbans and trucks and trailers were parked on the road at my gate for several hours while they took statements and went up the trail to retrieve Carl’s body.
I recall meeting Carl a time or two when we were both up here hunting. Until recently I wasn't up here often enough to know him real well, but he seemed the decent sort. The owners of the camp he hunted from say they had been friends for neigh on to 30 years. Carl was 58 years old. Much too young for this sort of thing. But then again, the fella who lost his life last year was only in his late forties/early fifties.
*sigh*
Twice in two years (three times in three if you count the older gent from further south of here mentioned in the linked post) hunters have died on the trails around the Bolt Hole. Makes me wonder if I should be going out alone.
If you recall, last year on opening day of the muzzle loader season in the North Zone (AKA the Adirondacks) a camp to the west had a hunter go out and not return. He passed away of a massive heart attack on the trail in the woods. Crews from the state troopers, the DEC and a friend of mine spent a good portion of the night and a few hours the next morning combing the woods before they located his body. (See my post Tragedy In the North Country for the full story.)
Today was opening day of the regular rifle season in the North Zone and it was déjà vu all over again. Except this time the hunter wasn’t in the woods. One of the hunters from the camp to the east of the Bolt Hole was going up the snowmobile trail to set up for an afternoon hunt. A second hunter left a short time afterward to catch up with him and the two were to sit while another group pushed deer in their direction.
Never happened.
As hunter number two progressed up the trail, he came upon the body of hunter number one laying in the middle of the trail. Carl, hunter number one, had died on his way up the trail. Apparently he had a heart attack.
While no search was necessary this time, the State Troopers, DEC and the local ambulance crew responded to the call and Chevy Suburbans and trucks and trailers were parked on the road at my gate for several hours while they took statements and went up the trail to retrieve Carl’s body.
I recall meeting Carl a time or two when we were both up here hunting. Until recently I wasn't up here often enough to know him real well, but he seemed the decent sort. The owners of the camp he hunted from say they had been friends for neigh on to 30 years. Carl was 58 years old. Much too young for this sort of thing. But then again, the fella who lost his life last year was only in his late forties/early fifties.
*sigh*
Twice in two years (three times in three if you count the older gent from further south of here mentioned in the linked post) hunters have died on the trails around the Bolt Hole. Makes me wonder if I should be going out alone.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Expect the Unexpected
I got up at 6 AM this morning, showered, dressed and ate my breakfast then went to sit in the woods for a couple of hours with my muzzle loader in hopes that a buck deer might wander by. That was not to be, but I did have an unexpected encounter.
Sitting on a rise amongst a stand of mature hemlocks here I could look down upon a clearing where several old logging skidways meet and through which at least one critter trail (aided by our pruning) crosses a small creek, I spied a small black critter come nosing along. It spent a few minutes at the intersection while I groped for my binoculars but just as I put them to my eyes, disappeared. Not to worry, though, it came loping along the trail that leads right to the spot at which I was sitting. Perhaps I should say it “looped” along the trail. It was a fisher and, like the overgrown weasel that they are, it has a peculiar gait. Sort of like a slinky. The rear legs come up to meet the front as the back arches and then its front legs move forward and it stretches out.
It boldly came right up the trail to where I sat, passing a mere three feet from me, paused about five feet away, and then made a left turn and headed off into the woods. I don’t believe it even was aware of my presence as it showed no signs of surprise or panic. Unlike the one pictured at the link above, this fisher was almost totally black save for a small ruff of brown around its neck. It coat was very sleek and healthy looking, too.
With a couple of these roaming around the Bolt Hole, it's little wonder that I've not seen many porcupines about. Now, if they would only do something about the red squirrels....
Oh, and I saw no deer in the four hours I sat.
Sitting on a rise amongst a stand of mature hemlocks here I could look down upon a clearing where several old logging skidways meet and through which at least one critter trail (aided by our pruning) crosses a small creek, I spied a small black critter come nosing along. It spent a few minutes at the intersection while I groped for my binoculars but just as I put them to my eyes, disappeared. Not to worry, though, it came loping along the trail that leads right to the spot at which I was sitting. Perhaps I should say it “looped” along the trail. It was a fisher and, like the overgrown weasel that they are, it has a peculiar gait. Sort of like a slinky. The rear legs come up to meet the front as the back arches and then its front legs move forward and it stretches out.
It boldly came right up the trail to where I sat, passing a mere three feet from me, paused about five feet away, and then made a left turn and headed off into the woods. I don’t believe it even was aware of my presence as it showed no signs of surprise or panic. Unlike the one pictured at the link above, this fisher was almost totally black save for a small ruff of brown around its neck. It coat was very sleek and healthy looking, too.
With a couple of these roaming around the Bolt Hole, it's little wonder that I've not seen many porcupines about. Now, if they would only do something about the red squirrels....
Oh, and I saw no deer in the four hours I sat.
Saturday, September 22, 2007
"Preservation" vs. "Conservation"
In walking around the woods I witnessed many, many mature trees blown over by the storm in late August. Huge cherry trees, beeches and red maples either had their tops snapped off or were uprooted completely. Seeing all that very valuable timber laying on the ground where it will be left to rot and return to the soil made me think about the 1894 New York Constitutional Convention that created the “Forever Wild” aspect of the Adirondack Park.
Back in 1894, the push was on to preserve wild areas all around the country, but massive forest fires in the northeast during 1893 and 1894 made preserving the flow of water a paramount goal for those meeting to discuss the new state constitution. To that end, the areas of the Adirondack and Catskill Mountains were seen as a water source for rivers, reservoirs and canals (still a big means of transportation throughout the state). Only as an afterthought were the forests themselves considered. Even so, preservation and not conservation was the goal. Preservation: To save as is. Conservation: Wise use.
The final result of the discussions in the constitutional convention—and the fear of fire overspreading the region—was the current Article XIV.
It begins:
Sounds good, right?
But does it truly serve the citizens of New York State well?
By locking up the millions of acres of state lands in the Adirondacks and the Catskills the constitution effectively locks up valuable timber and mineral rights. By prohibiting the leasing of lands for either mineral exploration or timber harvesting by any means, the state has written off billions of dollars in assets. Assets which, in the case of the timber, are renewable.
The entire Article XIV is restrictive in nature. It prohibits and prevents and limits what can be done inside the Blue Line, as the Forest Preserve is called.
Certainly I enjoy the access to wild lands adjacent to the Bolt Hole, but I also think of the tax reduction mineral and timber leases could provide. Think also of the employment provided by logging in an area noted for its scarcity.
Contrast the “Forever Wild” policy of New York with the conservation practices of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania.
State Forest Management and Regulations
Instead of creating a “Park”, Pennsylvania has set its woods aside as State Forests. These lands are scattered throughout the state and are open to both mineral leasing and timber harvest.
The Commonwealth has seen fit to use science to determine the best way to manage the assets that belong to the people of the state. Its aim is to provide a healthy environment and a sustainable income from those assets. Its constitution provides flexibility and its Bureau of Forestry can adapt its policies and practices to meet current situations.
Science has shown that permitting timber harvesting can promote a healthier more diverse forest. An old growth forest becomes somewhat sterile. Only storms and fires provide openings in the canopy permitting the understory to bloom.
Perhaps it’s time for the citizens of New York to seriously think about the “Forever Wild” aspect of its constitution. (Although, Lord knows, NYS has had many, many opportunities with several Constitutional Conventions and rewrites over the years.)
Back in 1894, the push was on to preserve wild areas all around the country, but massive forest fires in the northeast during 1893 and 1894 made preserving the flow of water a paramount goal for those meeting to discuss the new state constitution. To that end, the areas of the Adirondack and Catskill Mountains were seen as a water source for rivers, reservoirs and canals (still a big means of transportation throughout the state). Only as an afterthought were the forests themselves considered. Even so, preservation and not conservation was the goal. Preservation: To save as is. Conservation: Wise use.
The final result of the discussions in the constitutional convention—and the fear of fire overspreading the region—was the current Article XIV.
It begins:
Conservation
Section 1. The lands of the state, now owned or hereafter acquired, constituting the forest preserve as now fixed by law, shall be forever kept as wild forest lands. They shall not be leased, sold or exchanged, or be taken by any corporation, public or private, nor shall the timber thereon be sold, removed or destroyed.
Sounds good, right?
But does it truly serve the citizens of New York State well?
By locking up the millions of acres of state lands in the Adirondacks and the Catskills the constitution effectively locks up valuable timber and mineral rights. By prohibiting the leasing of lands for either mineral exploration or timber harvesting by any means, the state has written off billions of dollars in assets. Assets which, in the case of the timber, are renewable.
The entire Article XIV is restrictive in nature. It prohibits and prevents and limits what can be done inside the Blue Line, as the Forest Preserve is called.
Certainly I enjoy the access to wild lands adjacent to the Bolt Hole, but I also think of the tax reduction mineral and timber leases could provide. Think also of the employment provided by logging in an area noted for its scarcity.
Contrast the “Forever Wild” policy of New York with the conservation practices of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania.
State Forest Management and Regulations
Contained in Article 1, Section 27 of the Pennsylvania Constitution are these words: "Pennsylvania's public natural resources are the common property of all the people, including generations yet to come. As trustee of these resources, the Commonwealth shall conserve and maintain them for the benefit of all the people."
Instead of creating a “Park”, Pennsylvania has set its woods aside as State Forests. These lands are scattered throughout the state and are open to both mineral leasing and timber harvest.
The Bureau of Forestry will accomplish this mission by:(emphasis added.)
Managing State Forests under sound ecosystem management, to retain their wild character and maintain biological diversity while providing pure water, opportunities for low density recreation, habitits [sic] for forest plants and animals, sustained yields of quality timber, and environmentally sound utilization of mineral resources.
The Commonwealth has seen fit to use science to determine the best way to manage the assets that belong to the people of the state. Its aim is to provide a healthy environment and a sustainable income from those assets. Its constitution provides flexibility and its Bureau of Forestry can adapt its policies and practices to meet current situations.
Science has shown that permitting timber harvesting can promote a healthier more diverse forest. An old growth forest becomes somewhat sterile. Only storms and fires provide openings in the canopy permitting the understory to bloom.
Perhaps it’s time for the citizens of New York to seriously think about the “Forever Wild” aspect of its constitution. (Although, Lord knows, NYS has had many, many opportunities with several Constitutional Conventions and rewrites over the years.)
Monday, June 25, 2007
Bear Tales
I got back to the Bolt Hole to discover there were plenty of black bear in my neck of the woods, too. Mark had been maintaining the three game cameras we had set out and we got some great shots of of two, perhaps three, black bears. This couple got our attention.
When we went out to check the batteries and switch the memory cards, Mark carried his 870 with a couple of birdshot loads and a slug. Just in case. We would much rather wait until this fall when bear season rolls around. Big Ben would make a hell of a wall hanging. We would rather not shoot the little lady as she will supply bears for the future.
The bear on the left is female and the larger boar is on the right facing the camera. She weighs in at between 250 and 275 while he may top 400 pounds. How do I know which is male and female? We have pictures from a later night visit that could best be described as "bear porn" in which it is very clear which is which!
When we went out to check the batteries and switch the memory cards, Mark carried his 870 with a couple of birdshot loads and a slug. Just in case. We would much rather wait until this fall when bear season rolls around. Big Ben would make a hell of a wall hanging. We would rather not shoot the little lady as she will supply bears for the future.
Mark posed to give a perspective of the bear sizes. Mark is nearly 6 feet tall (when upright) and weighs about 200 pounds.
Sunday, June 03, 2007
Confronting the AAF
I drove up to the Bolt Hole in the Adirondacks with the intention of cutting the grass (it’s been two weeks) and clearing some brush. I had been forewarned by my buddy Mark that the second wave of the Adirondack Air Force had been deployed so I wasn’t surprised at the number of deer flies that attacked while I pushed the mower back and forth on Saturday afternoon.
I doused myself liberally with Deep Woods Off before I started the mower, yet there was a cloud of black flies flitting about my arms and face that resembled Japanese Zeros attacking the US aircraft carriers at Midway. I had to breath carefully to avoid inhaling very many. Mixed in with these tiny, humpbacked beasts were the deer flies. Their flight was much quieter than you would expect from a dime-sized buzz saw on wings. (Mark refers to them as “mouths in flight.”)
The Off did a relatively good job of keeping them from landing on my arms and neck and the bandana, held in place by a baseball cap and draped over the back of my neck, saved me from further sunburn and bites. However, as time passed and I perspired more in the early afternoon sun, weaknesses in my defenses cropped up and the deer flies took advantage. I watched as they began to land on my hands and forearms. Waved them away when I saw them first, smashed them after they bit when I didn’t.
I cut an acre of grass in the bright afternoon sun and swatted and killed perhaps 30 deer flies without diminishing the number of attackers during the hour and a half engagement. I’ve still got another acre or so to cut and will get to that this afternoon if the grass dries out. (We had a brief but drenching thunderstorm move through just after I called for a strategic retreat and redeployed to the cabin to rehydrate with a Saranac Pale Ale or two.)
While I did get bitten (by deer flies only for some reason) and had blood drawn several times, I can report no lasting damage as there was no swelling from the bites. Guess all those allergy shots worked!
PS: I didn't go outside as dark approached (in fact I hit the sack very early knowing the birds and red squirrels would wake me at 4:30 or so--they did) so I cannot report upon the mosquito levels but I can say that the no-see-ums made it through the screen okay. Got bit a couple of times before I turned the light out.
I doused myself liberally with Deep Woods Off before I started the mower, yet there was a cloud of black flies flitting about my arms and face that resembled Japanese Zeros attacking the US aircraft carriers at Midway. I had to breath carefully to avoid inhaling very many. Mixed in with these tiny, humpbacked beasts were the deer flies. Their flight was much quieter than you would expect from a dime-sized buzz saw on wings. (Mark refers to them as “mouths in flight.”)
The Off did a relatively good job of keeping them from landing on my arms and neck and the bandana, held in place by a baseball cap and draped over the back of my neck, saved me from further sunburn and bites. However, as time passed and I perspired more in the early afternoon sun, weaknesses in my defenses cropped up and the deer flies took advantage. I watched as they began to land on my hands and forearms. Waved them away when I saw them first, smashed them after they bit when I didn’t.
I cut an acre of grass in the bright afternoon sun and swatted and killed perhaps 30 deer flies without diminishing the number of attackers during the hour and a half engagement. I’ve still got another acre or so to cut and will get to that this afternoon if the grass dries out. (We had a brief but drenching thunderstorm move through just after I called for a strategic retreat and redeployed to the cabin to rehydrate with a Saranac Pale Ale or two.)
While I did get bitten (by deer flies only for some reason) and had blood drawn several times, I can report no lasting damage as there was no swelling from the bites. Guess all those allergy shots worked!
PS: I didn't go outside as dark approached (in fact I hit the sack very early knowing the birds and red squirrels would wake me at 4:30 or so--they did) so I cannot report upon the mosquito levels but I can say that the no-see-ums made it through the screen okay. Got bit a couple of times before I turned the light out.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
The Adirondack Air Force (AAF) has deployed
Black flies are at their worst during late spring and early summer. They swarm in large numbers and look to penetrate your clothing to take chinks out of your skin. They will climb up your leg to the area just above your sock and leave a nice ring of red dots that itch like the blazes. Or they will attack your neck just above your collar and do the same. Failing that, they might get inside your shirt between the buttons, or fly in your eyes, ears or nose. If you breathe through your mouth, be prepared to swallow a few. Keep your pant legs tucked into your socks/boots, your shirttail in your pants, your sleeves inside your work gloves, and a hat/bandana down over your ears and the nape of your neck if you want to avoid most of the bites. There’s a reason the old timers used to where their long johns right through June! Once we have a week or two of temperatures in the mid-70s or low 80s they are about done. Unfortunately, that’s when the deer flies appear.
Deer flies are larger than the black flies but not so numerous. They can arrive silently upon your hand (usually your knuckles) and take a chop that would do a Rottweiller proud. They are fairly territorial, however, and sit in the shrubbery along the side of the trail waiting for a large mammal to pass. Then they will swoop out and buzz around your head (and hands) looking for a point of attack. If you stand still, you’re lunch. If you keep on walking, they may drop back to their favorite perch and leave you alone—or, at least, leave you to the next deer fly along the trail. The good thing about deer flies is that they make a large target for your swatting hand. The bad thing is that, once you’ve managed to swat one, you really, really need to stomp on that sucker. If you don’t, it’ll be back to get you. They were the original models for the Terminator. The deer flies at the Bolt Hole seem to disappear around the middle of August. (More on why they disappear later.)
Mosquitoes rise out of the grass, little tiny pools of water in hollows of trees, puddles, streams, lakes, buckets and old tires just as soon as the water melts. They are surgical in their attack. While the black flies and deer flies seemingly want you to know your being attacked, the mosquito slides that proboscis into your skin with a delicate touch that will leave you wondering (but only for a moment) when you got bit and by whom. You can hear the mosquito as it tries to select a vein to tap. The high-pitched buzz of the wings may make it seem to be right in your ear. This may also give you a false sense of being able to swat them out of the air; after all, they seem to be moving so, so slowly. Unfortunately, like fruit flies, mosquitoes have access to warp technology that allows them to slip between realities. When you swat at them, they merely slip between the folds of time and space to emerge where your hand or swatter isn’t. Luckily, mosquitoes are only a threat in the twilight hours. They are seldom, if ever, out and about during the day. Which is good because you’re already busy with the black flies and deer flies! I have found that they also tend to disappear several hours after sunset. Perhaps because the temperatures in and about the Bolt Hole drop quite rapidly once the sun goes down. Or maybe it’s the bats.
No-see-ums are a scourge. I’ve no idea what humans did to deserve these tiny little beasties, but I will gladly join with you to scream at the heavens, “Enough, all ready!” As the name suggests these are really, really tiny flies with really, really sharp biting parts. Usually the first indication that they are about is a bite that feels like a student nurse practicing her acupuncture techniques with a dull needle upon your arm or (should you be so foolish as to be wearing shorts in the Adirondacks) leg. They are so small they can easily pass through the screen on your window or tent, so there is no place you can go to escape them. They are so small that their flight is totally silent, so there is no warning of the impending attack. They are so small that, unlike black flies or mosquitoes and certainly deer flies, they do not disturb the fine hairs on you skin as they land. Thus, their bite seems even far more painful for being inflicted without warning—often while you are in bed inside your home/tent. They only attack at night and are usually drawn to the lights in your room or tent. If you have a campfire or gas lantern, the CO2 given off by these sources will distract them.
What defenses can we mere humans have against these bloodsuckers? There are several.
We could try avoidance. Move as far away from water as possible. This would get us away from the mosquitoes, black flies and no-see-ums, all of which need moisture (as well as your blood) to lay eggs for future generations. Unfortunately, there is nowhere in the Adirondacks that is more than a short distance from any water.
We can encourage the natural predators of these pests. Bats eat mosquitoes like baseball players eat sunflower seeds. Each individual bat will eat thousands of mosquitoes each night. So cheer them on when you see them swooping and diving in the twilight and remember they will continue to gorge on mosquitoes all night long. Frogs, toads and some tadpoles eat mosquitoes and mosquito larvae. Dragonfly larvae will also eat mosquito larvae. Adult dragonflies eat deer flies and black flies on the wing. Near the end of June I start to see one or two swooping over the lawn. By August, I have a dozen or more that show up when I start the lawn mower to dart and dive at the insects that I stir up or that come to feed on me. They seem to favor the larger deer flies and you can see them eating on the wing as they carry one about in the cage made from their six legs. On the avian side of the ledger we have the flycatchers and kingbirds, the Eastern Phoebe, Chimney Swifts, and swallows. I have several Least Flycatchers in the area around the house and currently have an Eastern Phoebe building a nest over one of the windows. I’ve often seen Tree Swallows resting on the wires that run along the road. And Chimney Swifts appear from who knows where to join the bats in the evening.
Then there is the chemical/biological approach. Foggers might be justified if you don’t intend to go anywhere, but they are indiscriminant and will kill many a “good” bug as well as the bad. Besides, they really don’t reach very far into the woods and the “bad” guys will just reoccupy the emptied areas in a day or two. Tikki torches and citronella candles have a similarly small range and are practically worthless if there is any kind of breeze blowing. A substance called Screen Proof can be sprayed on your screens to keep no-see-ums out. Actually, it turns your screens into flypaper and traps the little buggers as they try to get through. Unfortunately, it also traps dust and this clogs your screeds over time. If you have a private pond or pool near your home, there are mosquito control cakes you can purchase that release a predatory nematode that feeds on mosquito larvae. But it is a big world out there and there are numerous sites that mosquitoes use to breed from beaver ponds, to little puddles in the mud made by loggers or ATV enthusiasts, to hollows in plants and trees that collect water for just a week or two. You won’t get them all.
DEET is the most effective deterrent. Sprayed on your clothes and a hat, scarf, or bandana it can keep the bugs from biting. They will still swarm around you and create an annoyance but they won’t land to bite. Any insect repellant that contains DEET (the higher the percentage, the better) is worth its weight in gold.
Or you can accept the inevitable.
When I was younger, I was very allergic to stinging and biting insects. So allergic was I that as a toddler, I nearly died from my second bee sting. As a teen I was again stung and almost died. That was when I began my series of desensitization shots. It took several years of getting stuck by a doctor’s needle before I was no longer allergic to bee stings. I’ve been stung since with no ill effects. The first time, I stepped in a yellow jackets nest while in the woods and got stung 10-20 times. I walked out of the woods to find a state trooper’s car next to mine. I explained my situation (this was the first time I was stung since I ended the shots, yadda, yadda, yadda) and we sat and talked for a half hour waiting for a reaction. Didn’t happen. As a result, I went to get shots for biting insects. (I used to blow up like a balloon if bitten by a mosquito or deer fly.) I got six different series of shots over four years, and today I barely notice the mosquito bite or even the deer fly bite. Oh, they still hurt immediately after the bite but there is little itching or swelling associated with the bite. The same goes for the no-see-um. But the blankety-blank black fly! The doctor must not have had a serum for that one. When they bite me, it will be a week before the itching and swelling fade away. By then I may have scratched down to the bone! Funny thing is, this only happens in May. By the time June has rolled around, the black fly bite has much less effect upon me. Whether that’s because I have build up an immunity or the black flies are growing weaker or whatever the reason, I am thankful that I can get through the last few weeks of their abundance with out looking like someone went wild with a red Sharpie and left little red spots all over my arms and legs. All I have to worry about is the occasional fly in the ear or nose and the extra protein in my diet as I walk behind the lawnmower.
The AAF does have its good side, however. Whenever someone wants to move up here, they need to consider two things: the snow and cold of winter and the Adirondack Air Force in the summer. Surprising how many flatlanders decide they’d rather live elsewhere.
Deer flies are larger than the black flies but not so numerous. They can arrive silently upon your hand (usually your knuckles) and take a chop that would do a Rottweiller proud. They are fairly territorial, however, and sit in the shrubbery along the side of the trail waiting for a large mammal to pass. Then they will swoop out and buzz around your head (and hands) looking for a point of attack. If you stand still, you’re lunch. If you keep on walking, they may drop back to their favorite perch and leave you alone—or, at least, leave you to the next deer fly along the trail. The good thing about deer flies is that they make a large target for your swatting hand. The bad thing is that, once you’ve managed to swat one, you really, really need to stomp on that sucker. If you don’t, it’ll be back to get you. They were the original models for the Terminator. The deer flies at the Bolt Hole seem to disappear around the middle of August. (More on why they disappear later.)
Mosquitoes rise out of the grass, little tiny pools of water in hollows of trees, puddles, streams, lakes, buckets and old tires just as soon as the water melts. They are surgical in their attack. While the black flies and deer flies seemingly want you to know your being attacked, the mosquito slides that proboscis into your skin with a delicate touch that will leave you wondering (but only for a moment) when you got bit and by whom. You can hear the mosquito as it tries to select a vein to tap. The high-pitched buzz of the wings may make it seem to be right in your ear. This may also give you a false sense of being able to swat them out of the air; after all, they seem to be moving so, so slowly. Unfortunately, like fruit flies, mosquitoes have access to warp technology that allows them to slip between realities. When you swat at them, they merely slip between the folds of time and space to emerge where your hand or swatter isn’t. Luckily, mosquitoes are only a threat in the twilight hours. They are seldom, if ever, out and about during the day. Which is good because you’re already busy with the black flies and deer flies! I have found that they also tend to disappear several hours after sunset. Perhaps because the temperatures in and about the Bolt Hole drop quite rapidly once the sun goes down. Or maybe it’s the bats.
No-see-ums are a scourge. I’ve no idea what humans did to deserve these tiny little beasties, but I will gladly join with you to scream at the heavens, “Enough, all ready!” As the name suggests these are really, really tiny flies with really, really sharp biting parts. Usually the first indication that they are about is a bite that feels like a student nurse practicing her acupuncture techniques with a dull needle upon your arm or (should you be so foolish as to be wearing shorts in the Adirondacks) leg. They are so small they can easily pass through the screen on your window or tent, so there is no place you can go to escape them. They are so small that their flight is totally silent, so there is no warning of the impending attack. They are so small that, unlike black flies or mosquitoes and certainly deer flies, they do not disturb the fine hairs on you skin as they land. Thus, their bite seems even far more painful for being inflicted without warning—often while you are in bed inside your home/tent. They only attack at night and are usually drawn to the lights in your room or tent. If you have a campfire or gas lantern, the CO2 given off by these sources will distract them.
What defenses can we mere humans have against these bloodsuckers? There are several.
We could try avoidance. Move as far away from water as possible. This would get us away from the mosquitoes, black flies and no-see-ums, all of which need moisture (as well as your blood) to lay eggs for future generations. Unfortunately, there is nowhere in the Adirondacks that is more than a short distance from any water.
We can encourage the natural predators of these pests. Bats eat mosquitoes like baseball players eat sunflower seeds. Each individual bat will eat thousands of mosquitoes each night. So cheer them on when you see them swooping and diving in the twilight and remember they will continue to gorge on mosquitoes all night long. Frogs, toads and some tadpoles eat mosquitoes and mosquito larvae. Dragonfly larvae will also eat mosquito larvae. Adult dragonflies eat deer flies and black flies on the wing. Near the end of June I start to see one or two swooping over the lawn. By August, I have a dozen or more that show up when I start the lawn mower to dart and dive at the insects that I stir up or that come to feed on me. They seem to favor the larger deer flies and you can see them eating on the wing as they carry one about in the cage made from their six legs. On the avian side of the ledger we have the flycatchers and kingbirds, the Eastern Phoebe, Chimney Swifts, and swallows. I have several Least Flycatchers in the area around the house and currently have an Eastern Phoebe building a nest over one of the windows. I’ve often seen Tree Swallows resting on the wires that run along the road. And Chimney Swifts appear from who knows where to join the bats in the evening.
Then there is the chemical/biological approach. Foggers might be justified if you don’t intend to go anywhere, but they are indiscriminant and will kill many a “good” bug as well as the bad. Besides, they really don’t reach very far into the woods and the “bad” guys will just reoccupy the emptied areas in a day or two. Tikki torches and citronella candles have a similarly small range and are practically worthless if there is any kind of breeze blowing. A substance called Screen Proof can be sprayed on your screens to keep no-see-ums out. Actually, it turns your screens into flypaper and traps the little buggers as they try to get through. Unfortunately, it also traps dust and this clogs your screeds over time. If you have a private pond or pool near your home, there are mosquito control cakes you can purchase that release a predatory nematode that feeds on mosquito larvae. But it is a big world out there and there are numerous sites that mosquitoes use to breed from beaver ponds, to little puddles in the mud made by loggers or ATV enthusiasts, to hollows in plants and trees that collect water for just a week or two. You won’t get them all.
DEET is the most effective deterrent. Sprayed on your clothes and a hat, scarf, or bandana it can keep the bugs from biting. They will still swarm around you and create an annoyance but they won’t land to bite. Any insect repellant that contains DEET (the higher the percentage, the better) is worth its weight in gold.
Or you can accept the inevitable.
When I was younger, I was very allergic to stinging and biting insects. So allergic was I that as a toddler, I nearly died from my second bee sting. As a teen I was again stung and almost died. That was when I began my series of desensitization shots. It took several years of getting stuck by a doctor’s needle before I was no longer allergic to bee stings. I’ve been stung since with no ill effects. The first time, I stepped in a yellow jackets nest while in the woods and got stung 10-20 times. I walked out of the woods to find a state trooper’s car next to mine. I explained my situation (this was the first time I was stung since I ended the shots, yadda, yadda, yadda) and we sat and talked for a half hour waiting for a reaction. Didn’t happen. As a result, I went to get shots for biting insects. (I used to blow up like a balloon if bitten by a mosquito or deer fly.) I got six different series of shots over four years, and today I barely notice the mosquito bite or even the deer fly bite. Oh, they still hurt immediately after the bite but there is little itching or swelling associated with the bite. The same goes for the no-see-um. But the blankety-blank black fly! The doctor must not have had a serum for that one. When they bite me, it will be a week before the itching and swelling fade away. By then I may have scratched down to the bone! Funny thing is, this only happens in May. By the time June has rolled around, the black fly bite has much less effect upon me. Whether that’s because I have build up an immunity or the black flies are growing weaker or whatever the reason, I am thankful that I can get through the last few weeks of their abundance with out looking like someone went wild with a red Sharpie and left little red spots all over my arms and legs. All I have to worry about is the occasional fly in the ear or nose and the extra protein in my diet as I walk behind the lawnmower.
The AAF does have its good side, however. Whenever someone wants to move up here, they need to consider two things: the snow and cold of winter and the Adirondack Air Force in the summer. Surprising how many flatlanders decide they’d rather live elsewhere.
Four days at the Bolt Hole
Saturday, around noon after birding at Hills Creek State Park in PA, I packed the truck and headed up to the Bolt Hole in the Adirondacks.
The Bolt Hole is 34 acres about 25 miles north of Utica, NY, and just inside the Blue Line of the Adirondack Park. It is at the end of a paved road and the power line. The last three miles was dirt until about five years ago, but the pavement now stops right at the gate to the Bolt Hole. There are four hunters’ camps a little further up the dirt portion of the road that remains. To the north and east of my property there are approximately 10,000 acres of state land that is held as “forever wild” as per the AP mandate. The Bolt Hole is nowhere near the more visited portions of the park and is, therefore pretty damned remote and quiet—which suits me fine.
The trip took me a little over four hours with a stop at the “local” Stewarts (14 miles away) for some groceries. It started to drizzle a little as I traveled those last 14 miles. I had just unpacked my things when Mark, my buddy who owns a small camp across the street, came out of the woods where he had been checking two game cameras he has set behind my place. We looked at the pictures the cameras had taken during the last few days and saw a few deer (one or two doe and yearlings as well as at least one buck sporting the beginnings of antlers) and lots of red squirrels. Mark was heading back to his apartment and I built up the fire in the wood stove and settled back to watch the completion of the Mets-Yankees game on Fox.
Sunday was a beautiful day and, as soon as the sun and breeze dried out the grass, I spent three hours or so walking behind the new lawnmower. There were a few black flies about but the liberal use of Deep Woods Off and the strong breeze meant that I only got attacked when I was in the lee of a building or shed. The temperatures were such that I only raised a light sweat while pushing the mower about. However, the combination of walking several miles back and forth on the uneven surface as I cut grass, two birding expeditions (Thursday and Saturday), hauling sheetrock into the basement of the Aerie with Rick’s help (Thursday afternoon) and digging post holes and hauling concrete at the Muck (Wednesday) had done my back no favors. While most of the birders on Thursday and Saturday had “warbler neck” I found the pressure of leaning back to look in the treetops affected my lumbar region more. It was time for a good lie down and an ice pack. I finished one Terry Prachett book (Feet of Clay) and began another (Maskerade) while flat on the couch atop the ice pack.
Monday morning dawned way too early (something it seems to do at the Bolt Hole from May through August as the sun rises north of the hill to the east-southeast of the cabin) but I fought off the urge to rise with it and rolled over and went back to sleep several times despite the bird calls and chittering of red squirrels telling me to get up. I did, eventually, get up and get dressed around 8:30 AM. After a cup of coffee I decided to take a walk through the woods along some of the logging trails to see what was about.
I put on my jacket and a hat—forgetting the Deep Woods Off—and stepped outside. It was sunny but quite cool with the temperature just above 40. That didn’t seem to bother the black flies any as they swarmed about me whenever the breeze died. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much breeze along those logging trails as the surrounding shrubs or forest protected them. After an hour of ineffectively swatting at the flies as they propped my ears and eyes, I beat a hasty retreat to the house.
Clearly, the Adirondack Air Force has begun its summer season. For those of you not familiar with the AAF, it consists of the aforementioned black flies, mosquitoes, deer flies and no-see-ums.
Here’s a brief list of the birds I saw when I wasn’t swatting at black flies:
Ruby-throated Hummingbird (2)
Chipping Sparrow (7)
Gray Catbird (2)
American Robin (6)
Chestnut-sided Warbler (5)
Eastern Phoebe (2)
Black-capped Chickadee (5)
Least Fly Catcher (4)
Wood Thrush (1)
Ruffed Grouse (1)
Hooded Warbler (1)
Woodcock (1)
Magnolia Warbler (3)
Northern Flicker (1)
Common Raven (1)
Black flies (103,482,938)
The Bolt Hole is 34 acres about 25 miles north of Utica, NY, and just inside the Blue Line of the Adirondack Park. It is at the end of a paved road and the power line. The last three miles was dirt until about five years ago, but the pavement now stops right at the gate to the Bolt Hole. There are four hunters’ camps a little further up the dirt portion of the road that remains. To the north and east of my property there are approximately 10,000 acres of state land that is held as “forever wild” as per the AP mandate. The Bolt Hole is nowhere near the more visited portions of the park and is, therefore pretty damned remote and quiet—which suits me fine.
The trip took me a little over four hours with a stop at the “local” Stewarts (14 miles away) for some groceries. It started to drizzle a little as I traveled those last 14 miles. I had just unpacked my things when Mark, my buddy who owns a small camp across the street, came out of the woods where he had been checking two game cameras he has set behind my place. We looked at the pictures the cameras had taken during the last few days and saw a few deer (one or two doe and yearlings as well as at least one buck sporting the beginnings of antlers) and lots of red squirrels. Mark was heading back to his apartment and I built up the fire in the wood stove and settled back to watch the completion of the Mets-Yankees game on Fox.
Sunday was a beautiful day and, as soon as the sun and breeze dried out the grass, I spent three hours or so walking behind the new lawnmower. There were a few black flies about but the liberal use of Deep Woods Off and the strong breeze meant that I only got attacked when I was in the lee of a building or shed. The temperatures were such that I only raised a light sweat while pushing the mower about. However, the combination of walking several miles back and forth on the uneven surface as I cut grass, two birding expeditions (Thursday and Saturday), hauling sheetrock into the basement of the Aerie with Rick’s help (Thursday afternoon) and digging post holes and hauling concrete at the Muck (Wednesday) had done my back no favors. While most of the birders on Thursday and Saturday had “warbler neck” I found the pressure of leaning back to look in the treetops affected my lumbar region more. It was time for a good lie down and an ice pack. I finished one Terry Prachett book (Feet of Clay) and began another (Maskerade) while flat on the couch atop the ice pack.
Monday morning dawned way too early (something it seems to do at the Bolt Hole from May through August as the sun rises north of the hill to the east-southeast of the cabin) but I fought off the urge to rise with it and rolled over and went back to sleep several times despite the bird calls and chittering of red squirrels telling me to get up. I did, eventually, get up and get dressed around 8:30 AM. After a cup of coffee I decided to take a walk through the woods along some of the logging trails to see what was about.
I put on my jacket and a hat—forgetting the Deep Woods Off—and stepped outside. It was sunny but quite cool with the temperature just above 40. That didn’t seem to bother the black flies any as they swarmed about me whenever the breeze died. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much breeze along those logging trails as the surrounding shrubs or forest protected them. After an hour of ineffectively swatting at the flies as they propped my ears and eyes, I beat a hasty retreat to the house.
Clearly, the Adirondack Air Force has begun its summer season. For those of you not familiar with the AAF, it consists of the aforementioned black flies, mosquitoes, deer flies and no-see-ums.
Here’s a brief list of the birds I saw when I wasn’t swatting at black flies:
Ruby-throated Hummingbird (2)
Chipping Sparrow (7)
Gray Catbird (2)
American Robin (6)
Chestnut-sided Warbler (5)
Eastern Phoebe (2)
Black-capped Chickadee (5)
Least Fly Catcher (4)
Wood Thrush (1)
Ruffed Grouse (1)
Hooded Warbler (1)
Woodcock (1)
Magnolia Warbler (3)
Northern Flicker (1)
Common Raven (1)
Black flies (103,482,938)
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
There and back again
I drove up to the Bolt Hole Wednesday to drop off a new Craftsman lawnmower. It’s a walk behind, side discharger. I’ve about two acres of lawn when you add it all together and I enjoy the exercise I get from pushing the lawnmower around and around and around. It’s almost a zen-like experience. I had intended to cut the grass but found that the grass hadn’t grown enough to cut so all I did was assemble the machine, add the quart of oil, fill up the gas tank and start the Briggs & Stratton engine. First pull. You gotta love Briggs & Stratton! The 10-year old mower that I have been keeping in the garage up there is falling apart. The wheels are shot, the deck is rusted through and the handle is held together with oak staves and duct tape. But the Briggs & Stratton engine on that sucker starts up first pull every spring despite being in the unheated garage where the temperature can get down to -10 degrees on a cold Adirondack night.
I also had intended to repair the front gate. It had rotted and collapsed when Terry and I were up there on Saturday. But Mark beat me to it. He arrived just after we left on Saturday, saw the mess of gate parts and went to work on the repair. So I’ve got a “new” gate made from recycled parts and a pole from one of the many small fir trees in the area.
I DID get to fill the gas cans (about 12 gallons at $3.10 @--ouch) so when the grass does grow and the ATV comes out of the garage, we’ll have more than enough to haul wood and mow. (The bad news is that it takes me two gallons of gas to make the round trip to the gas station.)
I found the phone line full of static again. Every spring it seems a splice weakens somewhere along the line either under the weight of snow or from a tree branch landing on it somewhere. This static makes any normal conversation on the phone impossible and you can forget about dial-up computer connection. A call to the phone company and they had someone out checking the line and fixing splices so I could get online Wednesday night.
I also got to do a little more diagnostic work on the kitchen sink. I let the water run for about an hour to clear some of the silt and grime out of the pipe lines (something that I need to do every spring) and discovered that the repair I had made back in December had not held. There was water leaking from the J-trap area under the sink. I pulled the pipes apart, rewrapped the fittings with Teflon tape and put it back together. No good. Water was still dripping from the bottom of the J-trap. I felt around all the fittings but they felt dry, so where was the water coming from? There was a puddy-like substance along the side of the J-trap and it felt loose—and wet. I took the pipes apart again and examined the lump of material on the side of the pipe. It looked like old chewing gum (and as a former teacher, I know of which I speak) and it was definitely loose and wet. I peeled it off and found the pipe had a 2 ½ inch long hairline crack.
With the several jobs planned (but not performed) I stayed overnight and headed back to the Aerie Thursday morning.
On my way back to PA today, I stopped at the hardware store and purchased a new J-trap for under the kitchen sink. And some more Teflon tape. When I get back to the Bolt Hole next week, I’ll make the installation.
I really should have taken some pictures…sigh
I also had intended to repair the front gate. It had rotted and collapsed when Terry and I were up there on Saturday. But Mark beat me to it. He arrived just after we left on Saturday, saw the mess of gate parts and went to work on the repair. So I’ve got a “new” gate made from recycled parts and a pole from one of the many small fir trees in the area.
I DID get to fill the gas cans (about 12 gallons at $3.10 @--ouch) so when the grass does grow and the ATV comes out of the garage, we’ll have more than enough to haul wood and mow. (The bad news is that it takes me two gallons of gas to make the round trip to the gas station.)
I found the phone line full of static again. Every spring it seems a splice weakens somewhere along the line either under the weight of snow or from a tree branch landing on it somewhere. This static makes any normal conversation on the phone impossible and you can forget about dial-up computer connection. A call to the phone company and they had someone out checking the line and fixing splices so I could get online Wednesday night.
I also got to do a little more diagnostic work on the kitchen sink. I let the water run for about an hour to clear some of the silt and grime out of the pipe lines (something that I need to do every spring) and discovered that the repair I had made back in December had not held. There was water leaking from the J-trap area under the sink. I pulled the pipes apart, rewrapped the fittings with Teflon tape and put it back together. No good. Water was still dripping from the bottom of the J-trap. I felt around all the fittings but they felt dry, so where was the water coming from? There was a puddy-like substance along the side of the J-trap and it felt loose—and wet. I took the pipes apart again and examined the lump of material on the side of the pipe. It looked like old chewing gum (and as a former teacher, I know of which I speak) and it was definitely loose and wet. I peeled it off and found the pipe had a 2 ½ inch long hairline crack.
With the several jobs planned (but not performed) I stayed overnight and headed back to the Aerie Thursday morning.
On my way back to PA today, I stopped at the hardware store and purchased a new J-trap for under the kitchen sink. And some more Teflon tape. When I get back to the Bolt Hole next week, I’ll make the installation.
I really should have taken some pictures…sigh
Thursday, November 09, 2006
The Not So Elusive Adirondack White-tail
This is the story of a somewhat mentally challenged white-tail deer we call Junior.
Junior may, or may not, be one of the twins we were see with their momma all last year during the hunting season. Unfortunately, Junior became a little too trusting. He would show up outside Mark’s outhouse door when Mark had to answer a call of nature in the middle of the night. He would sneak up on Mark while he was himself attempting to set up an ambush and peak over his shoulder.
Junior was not a big-racked buck by any stretch of the imagination but he did have horns.
I’m using the past tense because Junior was dumb enough to give me two (albeit difficult) shots this afternoon as I walked into the woods for an afternoon hunt. I was to sit while Mark walked the west side of the property. He never got to walk because I never got to sit. Walking into the spot at which I was to sit I noticed some fresh tracks in the wet leaves. Then I noticed some fresh droppings. Then I noticed Junior.
He was standing broadside about twenty yards away from me but I couldn’t make out if he had any antlers. He turned his back to me but continued to look over his shoulder. Then I saw two pencil thin antlers inside his ears but I had no real shot. I lifted my rifle anyway and waited for him to turn sideways. (He had to turn sooner or later as there were two trees right in front of him!) He did turn, but not by much, so I aimed behind his forward shoulder and squeezed the trigger. He jumped around the two trees and peeked back at me showing no signs of having been hit! Then he leaned a little further forward to see just what all the fuss was about and that was his fatal mistake. My second shot went right through his neck and he dropped where he was standing.
I radioed Mark (who was still trying to get his boots on) to bring the ATV. Ten minutes later he pulled up with a LaBatt’s Blue in hand. And ten minutes after that, Junior was on the back of the ATV heading to the barn to be hung for the night. Tomorrow it’ll be butchering time.
Hey! You can’t eat horns!
Junior may, or may not, be one of the twins we were see with their momma all last year during the hunting season. Unfortunately, Junior became a little too trusting. He would show up outside Mark’s outhouse door when Mark had to answer a call of nature in the middle of the night. He would sneak up on Mark while he was himself attempting to set up an ambush and peak over his shoulder.
Junior was not a big-racked buck by any stretch of the imagination but he did have horns.
I’m using the past tense because Junior was dumb enough to give me two (albeit difficult) shots this afternoon as I walked into the woods for an afternoon hunt. I was to sit while Mark walked the west side of the property. He never got to walk because I never got to sit. Walking into the spot at which I was to sit I noticed some fresh tracks in the wet leaves. Then I noticed some fresh droppings. Then I noticed Junior.
He was standing broadside about twenty yards away from me but I couldn’t make out if he had any antlers. He turned his back to me but continued to look over his shoulder. Then I saw two pencil thin antlers inside his ears but I had no real shot. I lifted my rifle anyway and waited for him to turn sideways. (He had to turn sooner or later as there were two trees right in front of him!) He did turn, but not by much, so I aimed behind his forward shoulder and squeezed the trigger. He jumped around the two trees and peeked back at me showing no signs of having been hit! Then he leaned a little further forward to see just what all the fuss was about and that was his fatal mistake. My second shot went right through his neck and he dropped where he was standing.
I radioed Mark (who was still trying to get his boots on) to bring the ATV. Ten minutes later he pulled up with a LaBatt’s Blue in hand. And ten minutes after that, Junior was on the back of the ATV heading to the barn to be hung for the night. Tomorrow it’ll be butchering time.
Hey! You can’t eat horns!
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