I have hit a point in my life where I can say that I have been hunting for longer than I haven’t. Each hunting season provides you with new experiences, new stories and opportunities to learn and be better than you were the year before. This past season, I found two ways that I have changed in my hunting habits since I started. Lesson 1: On opening day of the season, as first light broke, a slew of gun shots rang out. I think I counted 8. It was windy, the refreshing kind and not the chill-you-to-the-bone kind. I was grateful to be in the Sky Condo again. I scanned the woods but my eye caught movement off to my left. A deer was running at my stand. I froze as I watched it start to slow down as it closed the 100 yard gap. It was a...
Everything you need to know about a taxidermist comes from how they react when something goes wrong. When I got my Grand Slam in 2021, I wanted to get a half-mount for my bear. It was the first bear that I had trapped, and it had a white patch. I was very specific about how I wanted it; left paw forward to mimic the paw that had been trapped. I did the fan for my turkey feathers myself and then paid the taxidermist for a shoulder mount for my moose, and the antlers of my deer to be mounted. It’s those sorts of things that hunters spend money on to hold on to the memories of the hunt. Taxidermists play a huge role in making sure that happens. I got my bear back first. The right paw was forward and the stitching around the paws were very...
It was a miserable walk into the stand in the dark. Sheets of rain and wind pelted us as soon as we stepped out of the truck. Even though Dad had filled his buck tag, he was willing to head into a stand and hunt for a doe. We walked as quickly as we could to our respective stands and waited for daylight. I wondered if it was even worth being out because of how poor the conditions were. But, you can’t shoot a deer if you’re not in the woods. Around 7:30am, a deer hobbled into view and bedded down. It was dragging its right leg, not walking or putting weight on it. I know deer can survive with a broken leg but there is something about a wounded animal that just doesn’t sit right with me. I had both my buck and doe tag still in my...
When George Smith died three years ago, I lost one of my biggest cheerleaders. He was always trying to figure out how I could advance my outdoor writing career. He connected me with the editor at Downeast Magazine when they produced an issue all about hunting. My article was featured on the cover, and I was the center article. George published his book, "Maine Sporting Camps," one year before he was diagnosed. He asked me to write a chapter so that I could say that I was a published author. He was forever promoting me and encouraging me. When George died, the voice of the Maine's outdoors became quieter. Until now. It is with some emotion and excitement that I announce the launch of Hunt & Harvest. My monthly column will appear...
As the 2024 hunting season kicks off, I can not believe that it has been a decade of hunting bears in Maine! I remember planning the initial meeting at Cabela’s and inviting every hunter I knew in the greater Portland area. I wanted to prove that there were plenty of people who were passionate about bear hunting in Southern Maine. If I remember correctly, the room was close to packed when James Cote started talking about the bear referendum and what the plan was to win at the ballot box. I look back now and cannot believe it was 10 years ago! I had never hunted a bear. I knew how to talk about the various methods but I had not experienced a hunt. When that meeting ended, a bear hunter named Steve offered to teach me how to bear...
My phone showed 4am. There were photos from the cell cameras. With one eye open, I started scrolling and saw one of the big bucks. He had been in the same spot days earlier and had made a 5 hour loop. I had 3 hours to get in my stand. I took two steps away from the truck and the world erupted around me. The only thing louder than the crunching of deer running, was the beating of my heart. Several deep breaths later, I started back on the trail to the stand. A few more steps and another deer jumped and ran. Had it been the buck? I wasn't far from where we had been. I passed by my camera at 5:05am; three hours since the buck had been there. Don't Do Rodents There is something about hearing mice scratching inches from my face that...
Congratulations! You won a moose permit. Now, the work begins. Assume you are going to spend six days in the woods and choppings of Maine. Those hours away from camp are spent searching and walking and driving. It might not sound as exhausting as it was but…you are toast at the end of the day. In order to be as parepared as possible, here are the things that I packed for my hunt: Too many clothes. I packed every piece of hunting clothing I owned. I packed more socks than I could ever wear over the course of 6 days. The weather was sunny and beautiful, cold and breezy and we had a full day of rain. Moose move in all weather. You need to be where the moose are so make sure you are dressed for everything the Maine outdoors could throw...
It was an emotional rollercoaster of a season. All I wanted was an eight point buck. I will save the story for another time, but it didn’t happen. But what did happen changed my whole perspective on deer hunting. After twenty years of hunting, I am done shooting small bucks. I shot my doe in the first hour of rifle season, so having the ability to shoot a doe AND a buck gave me the opportunity to keep hunting and looking for that big buck. I could sit and watch more of the does and fawns at different spots on the property. One morning, I watched a fisher running around my stand. I enjoyed being in the woods, knowing that I had a specific buck that I was after and that I had already put meat in the freezer. This season was more of...
I was relieved to see my name on the list of people who had received doe tags in the lottery. There were so many doe on our trail cameras that it seemed likely that we would be successful. But, as opening day got closer and closer, illness struck my household and I was the last person standing without a tissue or cough drops in my pocket. In my attempt to ‘quarantine’ myself, I packed up and headed north. My watch read 32 degrees when Dad and I snuck into the woods. At a fork in the trail, Dad paused and waited for me to get into the Sky Condo before he continued on. I flicked off my headlamp and watched his light disappear around the corner. For all I know, the deer stood there and watched us split up because just when Dad started...
