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Showing posts from June, 2016

Spring Black Bear Management

In Maine, it is easy to brag about our bear biologists.  I did some quick math and with conservative estimates, Maine's bear biologist Randy Cross has spent more than 72,000 hours studying and working with our black bears.  That blows Malcolm Gladwell's   10,000 hour rule   out of the water.  I was lucky enough to tag along with Randy and his bear crew, including Lisa Bates, as they started running their trap lines to check the health of our bears.   I met Randy and two of his team mates, Preacher and Roach, as they headed out on day 3 of the 2016 trapping season. Their goal during the six week season is to collar as many females as possible while also getting the stats (weight, length, canine tooth size etc) of all of the bears caught.  Starting off slow, they continue to add traps until they have about 100 spread across the study area.  We had a list of places that we needed to check. We headed into a system of dirt roads to begin checking the traps that the teams had

In the woods: Mourning Dove

This mourning dove would not move from my flower bed. I flushed her mate but she refused to budge. 

Typical turkey

I think overall, I was excited for turkey season.  I really was.  Then May came and we went fishing, celebrated Mother's Day and found ourselves busy.  Dad and I had one morning to head into the woods to hunt. We had moved the blind closer into the woods and the path that   I had seen the turkeys  on when I was deer hunting. We set up the decoys and waited for it to get lighter before I started calling.  I had a box call, slate call, electronic call and a couple of apps on my phone. We called and listened. Called and listened. Called and listened. After a few hours, we made our way to the fields to see if there were birds around. It was quiet as we walked but that didn't stop us from jumping at least three deer and a pair of Mallards who were swimming in a large puddle.   We snuck into the field as best we could and crept along the ridge to see if there were any turkeys eating in the corn fields. Nothing. We called and listened.  Nothing. We thought of

When fishing: Men do that?

My friend Staci and I went fishing recently.  The water was down, the air wasn't too hot and the fish were jumping! It was the third time we had attempted to fish this spot and we arrived early enough to be the first in. We had the luxury of being able to enjoy the nature around us and try out a few different flies to see what the fish were biting.  A pair of Mergansers flew overhead and then swam past us while we stood waist-deep in the current. We would cast, change flies and then change spots on the stream.  It was great.  Eventually, a man parked on the edge of the road and started walking down to the stream to fish as well.  I wasn't the least bit concerned because I had just had a great experience in GLS with Greg . I stopped watching him when Staci yelled to point to the fish jumping in front of her and then we watched as her fly rod created an arc back into the water and she started fighting the fish at the other end. I left my spot in the water