The Hunt

As the new hunting season has emerged, I am thrilled for many reasons.   Exploring the nook and crannies of the woods never gets old.  Autumn brought many new adventures.  See what I mean as I travel back to memories in northern lower Michigan:  (NOTE:  This time frame reflects fall of 2015...when I was still hunting (and trapping).  I'm now a "watcher" instead of a "warrior".)  

...As I opened the door of the cramped cabin to leave, I looked around.  I was leaving it in good stead.  Venison chili simmered hot on the working wood stove, our aging cattle dog, Zip, sighed and gave a look of resignation as I hoisted the crossbow, closed the door and headed out onto the carpet of leaves that would be my path.  Autumn had arrived.  And with it began my quest for our winter meat.

I curved around the back of the cabin, skirting the silhouetting trees that lined the dog yard.  No sled dogs murmured or whined, as they have become accustomed to my daily solo trek. 

I stopped at the same spot where the previous week I had surprised a coyote.  The other morning, as I headed out to do the morning check of our trap line, I walked through a dense area and came out into a clearing overlooking a vista.  I always stop in this particular spot to peruse the land, looking for anything out of place, or perhaps to catch a glimpse of a critter traveling through.  As I was looking, a massive coyote climbed up out of a hollow in front of me.  He also stood, looking about, scanning the perimeter.  As his head was on swivel to the left, he spotted me out of the corner of his eye and jolted with the knowledge.  Upon confirming me standing there, he shot off and sped across the land, making a wide arch, actually returning to our property, in particular the area of our sled dog kennel.  I only had my side arm on me that day.  But this opportunity also gave me time to admire his thick coat, and compare it to several of our thick coated Siberians, which reside in the dog yard.  Coy-dog perhaps?  He was no typical coyote.  Today, however, no coyote in sight.

Although the Barnett crossbow was a heavy tote, I opted to take the long route back to my “blind”.  Rain was spitting, but the threat didn’t appear to be long-suffering.  I had my “hot seat” looped on my belt, so I knew I’d have a dry seat upon arrival.  No worries.

Hearing geese overhead brought a smile.  I stopped to watch.  Today it was two gaggles, flying side by side.  Soon, a couple geese broke off from their original flight and joined a gaggle that split off and headed southwest.  Who knows why.  Perhaps they knew of a good landing zone the others who continued south didn’t appreciate. 

I put the crossbow on my shoulder and trudged on. 

The woods always change…from morning to night, and every hour in between.  The lighting makes the woods a new adventure each time I enter.  Using the sled dog trails from years past, I have a well-traveled path.  Deer and coyote tracks dominate.  As I carefully monitor each step, I feel so blessed.  I am thankful for Russ, who appreciates my love of being in the woods.  Night after night of me coming home in the dark makes for an abnormal dinner hour, but we both embrace this time of year and the opportunities it offers. 

As I walk on, a ruffed grouse whistles, alerting me to the fact that wings will soon explode in flight, creating a startled noise in the quiet of the woods.  Many times, my heart would beat madly when these birds caught me unaware. 

I think back to earlier this August, when checking the trap line was always met with a spider web forming upon my face when going through brush.  So many spider webs I’ve sported this year.  I would always smile when I saw “widow leaves” – those leaves that appear to be dancing on air – spooky – until you realize they are being held by a spider web. 

I finally arrive at my “chair”.  It’s a chair in the woods.  A wooden, hand carved swivel chair, made by Russ.  I had him pull it out of one of our cabins, making a perfect site for me, sitting under a huge beech tree, at the massive base.  We built up the perimeter a bit, and the deer have no problem appearing in the clearing as I sit in the chair. 

As I snuggled in for the long haul, I took inventory of my surroundings.  Many pro hunters don’t factor in wind.  I do. 

Many do factor in scent.  As for me, I have a theory about scent control.  I control it by putting my scent out year ‘round.  Every kernel of the non-GMO corn I feed has run through my hands, putting my scent on feed.  They know me.  They associate me with feed.  I recall hearing about Iditarod Champion, Susan Butcher, feeding her Alaskan pups this way, smooshing her hands into the meaty mixture to get her scent mixed in.  Whatever you do with regard to scent – be consistent. 

I also hunt without any fuss.  I know folks who bring coffee and eats to a blind.  Coffee leads to elimination.  Another issue.  All bring unwanted scent. 

As for cell phones and such.  No.  Never.  If I were to bring anything, it would be a book.  But I can’t even imagine doing that.  I go to the woods to hear and see the sounds that are ever changing.  I delight in the change of noise…the woods are never silent.  Especially if you sit under a beech tree in the fall.  The woods has so much to teach us. 

One last thing.  Look up.  Cougars are here.  You just never know when one might be in your neck of the woods. 

This year, there were less skeeters. 

This fall, in September during the “early Anterless hunt”, I was unsuccessful.  However, I did enjoy an encounter with a young porky as I was heading in for the night.  He was in the lane, nibbling on a dried out clover, unaffected by my moving toward him.  Only when I spoke to him and neared did he turn his back to me and puff up.  He seemed to resent the intrusion and finally toddled off into the woods.  Although I had two firearms at my ready, I let him go, hoping I wouldn’t regret the decision come dog training on the trails. 

Enjoy the woods, and the one who made it.  Mother Nature?  No, Father God.  Another good reason to look up…for Jesus said:

“Surely I am coming quickly”.

Side bar:  Yes, many changes in the last 3 years.  Life never stays dormant.  One big one is submitting to the teachings of Jesus.  More to come on what that looks like.  For both myself and Russ.  

Until tomorrow, Lord willing.  Hope to see you here.

Sherry

Shovel Ready

Hello Dear Friend –

Greetings in the name of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ~!  As my friend Miriam says ~ “He will lead us in this world and eventually out of this world if we let Him.”

It has been nearly a month (-/+) since I have checked in with you.  I’m still here.  This winter has been long, and the cold weather here in northern lower Michigan is hanging on with a firm grip. 

Yes, we are shovel ready – we carry a shovel everywhere – outhouse/dog yard/our foot trail into the cabin/everywhere there is snow.

Speaking of the cabin.  We still have 4 dogs in our 15 x 20 cabin, having morphed into a routine of “in and out” for the two who need to still be tethered just outside the cabin door.  The other two are collar-less and stay put on our main core of our 40 acres.  I had to laugh today after lunch when hubby Russ headed out into our woods hauling a bright green plastic sled to haul back a load of nice Maple hardwood from a dead tree he downed earlier in the week.   While Russ headed out on the firm 4’ of snow base, our large smoke-colored wolfy dog, Mordecai, stretched out his large body by the woodstove, sighing a deep sigh of contentment as Russ clicked the cabin door shut upon his departure.  Mordecai’s harness hangs in the feed room, unused.  Meanwhile, Russ will haul sled after sled full of wood throughout the afternoon into evening.  Oh well, perhaps next year the dogs will be put to work full time. 

There has been a few respites of warmth (above 20 degrees) among the frigid temps.  On those days, my spirits soar.  It’s not only me.  On the first bright sunshine warmed day, baby bunnies spilled out from under our cabin, hopping about under our window and tree feeders.  At least once a day I take yellow dried corn cobs and toss them down the snowy “rabbit hole” that burrows under our cabin.  I just hope it doesn’t entice a skunk to take up residence, as has happened in the past.  Skunks are brutal to rabbit kits.  Pure savages.

It amazes me how our free-ranging rabbits have bunnies year ‘round.  On one below zero morning I went into our feed shed to get a flake of hay for a dog I had moved in the dog yard.  Upon lifting the hay flake from the bale, I discovered a “bunny nest” full of newborn kits.  I gasped and quickly covered the rabbit hair-lined swarm.  I was saddened knowing the temps in the next days would plunge to –30, with little chance of survival for the little creatures.  It wasn’t until a couple weeks later, Russ mentioned the bunnies were hopping around inside the feed room.  How amazing they survived.  Rabbits aren’t like some “mama’s” where they snuggle to keep warm.  They only visit the nest a couple times a day, if that, due to their milk being so rich.  (And if some of you are wondering why we didn’t just scoop them up and take them into the cabin to bottle feed – the mortality rate is high when you “mess with nature”.)  Anyone who knows me knows I abhor it when folks think they can do better than the “mama” and kick “mama” to the curb and take over.  ‘Nuff said.  A positive note is when the babies are big enough to make their appearance out and about, it is entertainment to see them follow Mama around and squirm under her belly, flip on their backs and kick with their little legs to position to get a good grip on the “milk bottle”.  {Smile}

Chickens have also come out of the barn and free-ranged all over our cabin area, enjoying the sunshine during those warm days.  A few eggs have even been found, announced by a proud chicken.  A preview of what’s to come.  It will be good to have a frequent supply of fresh eggs again.

The sled dogs {total count of 13} have certainly had the winter “off”, for the most part.  I gave up trying to snowshoe a trail.  I strapped on the webs several days (3) in a row and then we had a warm up and heavy snow and drifting.  I lost the trail.  However, I did find several nights of inner upper leg “Charley Horses”.  The worst.  Thank the Lord I have a good liniment (J. R. Watkins) that swiftly takes care of such nuisances.  Note to self:  pick up another bottle at my favorite Amish store on my next visit.

However, just because the sled dogs haven’t been running doesn’t mean there hasn’t been excitement in the dog yard.  A couple weeks ago we had a bit of excitement once darkness fell.  It wasn’t even my bedtime when I was alerted to a commotion in the dog yard.  Dogs were whining, uneasy.  One of the dogs was barking an alert bark, telling us there was an “issue”.  Russ was sleeping, I was fully awake.  Earlier in the day, I had commented to hubby, Russ, that our back gate that leads out into the woods was opened about a foot, due to deep snow, allowing a dog to get out.  Or, perhaps a dog to get in.  It looked like a super highway from our dog yard to the woods, showing there had been some activity.  Coyote in the dog yard?  I shined my searchlight into the dog yard and met with a pair of eyes near the gate.  All other dogs were where they should be.  Oh no.  I grabbed a light, my Ruger, and shovel and hit the dog yard.  After much shoveling, I secured the gate and looked at our elderly gal who was in full-blown heat.  She smiled.  I groaned.  Upon coming back into the cabin, I marked the calendar for April 15^th – 63 days.  We’ll see.

I mentioned reading Kathrene Pinkerton’s “Wilderness Wife” written back in the 1930’s.  I can’t say how much I’ve enjoyed this book.  It’s as if she mirrors my very thoughts, especially the contentment she feels in her rustic cabin, in the wild.  I feel that way here on our ’40.  As I type this on my non-Internet connected computer, I see the birds at the feeders in the reflections on the screen.  Smartwool socks hang over the woodstove for a final drying.  We don’t live fancy, but it is real.  And it feels right. 

I’ve settled into such a routine this winter, baking cookies and bread, sorting through paperwork to fill our burn barrel.  I am actually allowing myself to actually “relax”.  I have been “retired” from a very busy State job for three years and it has taken me this long to “chill” out.  I get wide-eyed when I look at my old Franklin Planner and the life I used to lead.  I’m so blessed to have been able to follow my plan to live a simple life.  And daily, I struggle to get it even more so, as LESS IS MORE.

I don’t travel in the winter, and hadn’t planned to go south to a hearing for Baker’s Green Acres, (fighting to keep his pigs despite a Invasive Species Order from the DNR saying his pigs meet the characteristics of Feral…) but the near blizzard weather we had that day made me feel better for missing it.  (I attended last July.)  Turns out, it was canceled.  Watch this video – you won’t believe what happened at the next hearing, before the Judge entered the courtroom, as folks discussed the previous cancellation due to snow.  Be prepared to be disgusted.  Dicky Bird – a must see for you.

Until next time, dear friend.  Lord willing.

Sherry

How we Shelter in Place

The frigid November wind is whipping around our tiny cabin as I settle in on my desktop ‘puter.  It’s ironic how it takes up a huge space in the middle of our 15 x 20 cabin, only to be used as a word processor, with no link to the outside world.  Even though we don’t have Internet, I hear my fingers dance over the keyboard, as thoughts spring forth.  And that feels like I’m connecting. 

Another perk - my backside is sufficiently warmed by the woodstove that sits in the southwest corner, a mere few feet away.  On top sits a 14-cup Wenzel percolator.  A coffee pot, kept warm throughout the day for immediate consumption by any and all.  I poured a cup before sitting down, hoping the warmth would ward off the chill I get from viewing the snowy display outside our front window. 

Speaking of coffee, I just began drinking java this autumn.  It was the weekend of the early doe hunt.  I had been out in the woods for hours, coming home cold and wet from freezing drizzle assaulting my face.  Upon entering our cabin, and smelling fresh brewed hot coffee, I decided right then and there, it was time to start drinking the caramel-colored water.  I have been on this earth for nearly 6 decades and now was the time.  Two months later, and I’m hooked.  However, I doctor it with my Amish-gifted organic sugar, and French Vanilla creamer.  As for that early hunt.  No doe taken, but it wasn’t for lack of trying.  No shot fired, but watched one walk away.  Now that we are into rifle season, I’m not seeing any, other than tracks, although I head out morning and evening on most days, spending hours walking and watching in our 40-acre woods. 

While stump sitting last weekend on opening day, I had to smile.  I spend quite a bit of time in our woods, year ‘round.  Therefore, “our” crows are on to me.  They like me, as I like them.  They don’t “rat me out” when I enter the woodlot.  While sitting the other evening at dusk I could hear crows in the area “ratting out” hunters.  At least that is what I figured all the fuss was about, hearing and seeing them all fly miles away.

I suppose I’m not your typical deer hunter.  I grab my 30-30 and head out.  Wearing orange, of course.  (Bought an awesome orange hat at the local Resale last week for a quarter.)  But I don’t sit in a “blind”.  I actually sold 2 Porta-potty poly outhouses this fall during the early hunt to a couple fellas {from downstate} who were going to make them into deer blinds.  As for me, I like to perch myself on a stump.  The other morning I did think to take my “hot seat” for padding, and was glad I did.  (Did I mention I hunt wearing a skirt?  Actually, my Amish-made skirt is a true gift.  Warm and thick.)

As opening day approached, I actually became hesitant about taking a deer.  We had just processed our 500+ pound hog and our freezer is busting out with pork cuts.  But thanks to a seasoned hunter friend (AC Ellen), I was reminded of venison burger, and such.  And the fact the Good Lord told us we are to use the animals for our needs.

We had a good butcher day with our gilt-never-turned-sow hog.  We work in tandem with a  farm friend couple - the guys cut the meat up, with us gals using our Food Saver machines and bags.  When we get to the sausage, we are in the home stretch.  We use AC Leggs seasoning and I truly have tasted none better.  We stop for lunch on butcher days.  This time, it was a venison stew (complete with Morel mushrooms) made by our friends, along with my homemade apple cake (made fresh that morning) for dessert.  By evening, we drive the couple miles home, tired out (but a good tired) knowing we will be eating good over the winter.  The second half of our breeding pair, which never did produce, will be next.  He will be mostly sausage.  (NOTE:  The hams on this girl weighed 35+#’s…huge!) 

Speaking of hogs.  Check out the video outlining the feral swine situation here in Michigan.  I've written about Baker's Green Acres before HERE...having traveled to sit in the courtroom and see it first hand.  This is a preview of the movie yet to come:  {Warning...Not for the lighthearted...}

“Nuff catching up for now.   Please check out Baker's Green Acres videos and website.  They need everyone's support.

In the meantime, if you wish to see what it is going on in our neck of the woods, go to SNOWMAN CAM and see.  Click HERE.  Our good friend, Blueberry Becky, lives just a crow’s fly from this cam and it has recorded “her bear” and other critters for your perusal.

Until next time, Lord willing…if the Lord tarries.

Sherry