Turkey Season Almost Over (Blog Thirty-three)

Among the many game animals that I enjoy pursuing, turkeys are by far my favorite.  I revel in both the fall and spring seasons, and this year I have been fortunate enough to have assignments to hunt toms in Tennessee, North Carolina, West Virginia, and my home state of Virginia.
The seasons are now closed in all of the above quartet except West Virginia (where the season ends this Saturday), and I have been able to tag out in Carolina and Virginia, take two toms in the Volunteer State, and one so far in West Virginia.  I have been afield 20 times and never before since I began turkey hunting in 1986 have I heard so few gobbles - maybe there is an article idea somewhere in that topic?
The late season Mountain State bird that I killed Saturday brought special joy because I had to hike far into the mountains to be successful.  After I checked in and cleaned the bird, I saved the wing feathers for friend Duane Means who runs Arrow Forestry (www.arrowforestry.com).  Duane only hunts with a primitive bow, and he uses turkey feathers to fletch his arrows.  My wife Elaine will employ some feathers to tie her flies for fishing.

Elaine and I will dine on the breast, legs, and neck meat of the West Virginia tom, and even the feathers will be put to good use.  Once again, all this proves what a joy it is to kill a wild turkey.

Chicks, Part V (Blog Thirty-two)

Well, the chicks came Thursday.  I went to Southern States to pick them up,
and realized when I arrived that I had not brought anything to transport them
in – a realization I made when I saw another woman with a towel-lined cardboard
box.  Not to worry – the chicks went into Happy-Meal type boxes holding five each. 

The store personnel referred to the balls of fluff as “Chicken Nuggets.”  Tiny cheeps came from the boxes on the ride home. I was so excited I stopped by Lord Botetourt High School where Bruce
teaches to show him, too, during his planning period.

The chicks have acclimated well to the 30-gallon storage box.  I had already tested the heat lamp
and knew it was right at 90 degrees.  The chicks have spent the past four days wandering from one box end to the other, sleeping mainly under the light and eating and drinking at the other end.  They will dip their beaks in the water, then lift their beaks skyward, “shaking” the liquid down their throats. 

Sleeping has been a comic sight.  As chicks tire and collapse to the floor,
they often manage a 20-second nap before a peer walks over them, awakening
them. 

They recently discovered the newspaper lining underneath their wood shavings and have pecked their way to it.  The first to discover a shred of paper was chased by all the others who also wanted to have this delightful object.  They are also beginning to have very definite
feathers on their wing tips, and spend more and more time daily grooming
themselves.  Which are the roosters?  Still impossible to tell. 

Chickens, Part IV (Blog Thirty-one)

This has been a busy week, and I am a little behind in my blogging.  Elaine and I went to North Carolina on a turkey hunting and trout fishing expedition, and I also spent three days in West Virginia turkey hunting.  I was fortunate enough to kill two toms in Carolina and experience some highland trout angling, too.

When I returned, seven magazine assignments were waiting for me, and I have been able to write four of the stories and part of the fifth.  The big news, though, is that tonight Elaine and I, after laboring off and on for several months and with help from friend Ken Rago, have finally finished the chicken coop.  And all we have to do to complete the chicken run is anchor one more post, string some wire, position the door, and predator proof the run.

It is good that we have finished the coop and most of the run because - even bigger news - the baby chicks arrive on Thursday.  Elaine is going to pick up the day-old creatures while I am at school.  We can hardly wait!

Taking a Kid Turkey Hunting (Blog Thirty)

Today, David Brugh of Christiansburg and I took his 11-year-old daughter Elaina spring gobbler hunting in Franklin County, Virginia.  If you have never taken a young person turkey hunting, doing so is a thing of joy - actually killing a turkey becomes secondary.  Elaina giggled when David and I showed her turkey droppings, laughed when I imitated the sounds of an ovenbird, and positively hooted when I blamed our failure to even hear a gobbler on her father's lack of calling skills.
When after a few hours it became apparent that our chances for calling in and killing a tom were extremely low, we turned to bird watching.  Elaina was fascinated when I explained to her how small a nest of a blue-gray gnatcatcher is (see picture below), that chuck-wills-widows out compete their close relatives, the whip-poor-wills, because the former is a half inch larger, and that ovenbirds say "teach, teach, teach," when they sing.
Late in the morning, our trio spotted two turkeys feeding along a stand that we had vacated earlier in the day.  Always the good sport, Elaina merely smiled when her dad and I apologized for perhaps leaving the locale too soon, thus possibly ruining her chance at killing her first gobbler.  This youngster has the potential to become a tremendous outdoors woman.  The three of us hope to go squirrel hunting this spring when the Virginia season opens.

Turkey Hunting in the Rain (Blog Twenty-nine)

Today, Saturday, I was supposed to have pursued spring gobblers on a farm in Franklin County.  But with the forecast of high winds, heavy rains, and thunderstorms, I opted not to go.  But despite the weather forecast, and it was, sadly, extremely accurate, I couldn't remain inside, instead deciding to hunt on the 38-acre tract we live on in Botetourt County, Virginia.

I have never killed a turkey during a hard rain, and that fact did not change after the morning's events transpired.  My biggest thrill of the day was calling in a very wet hen, which had responded to my clucks and yelps with similar vocalizations of her own.  I kept looking behind her to see if a gobbler was in tow, but, alas, she was all alone.  Finally, she ambled by me off to who knows where.

When the rain became even more intense around 11:10 or so, I decided to begin making my way back to the house, as turkey hunters have to be out of the woods by noon anyway.  I arrived back around 11:30, drenched and cold, with having seen and heard from only that one bedraggled hen.

So was the day an unsuccessful one? No not at all, as I truly enjoyed being outside and frankly would have been miserable inside.  After killing two turkeys back in the fall (Virginia has a three-turkey limit fall and spring seasons combined), I still have on stubborn tag unpunched.  Maybe I will be able to use that tag on Monday before school.

Chickens, Part III (Blog Twenty-eight)

This past Wednesday, friend Ken Rago helped Elaine and me build about 80% of our chicken coop.  A few days later, Elaine purchased a chick feeder, water column, and a heating lamp to keep the young chicks warm at night in their plastic container.  Next on the agenda, Ken will help us finish the coop this coming Wednesday, then Elaine and I will finish the fourth side of the run and position a door to the run on a post.
Finally, the first week of May, we will receive what in chicken terms is a "straight run" of chicks from the local Southern States in Troutville, Virginia.  For those unfamiliar with chicken related terms (and Elaine and I certainly were until recently) that means 10 chicks of which we won't be sure of the sex until some weeks later.
Elaine and I are hoping for at least five females out of the 10 chicks.  Our hope is that the alpha rooster will have made himself known by the two month period or so.  Then we will eat the males who are not the alpha males.  Otherwise, we have been told, constant fighting will take place among the roosters.  I guess this is where the saying "there can only be one rooster in the barnyard" comes from.  Anyway, we are anxiously awaiting the arrival of our chicks, trying to make sure that everything is in place.

Introducing Kids to the Outdoors (Blog Twenty-seven)

This past Saturday through Monday, I was in Tennessee turkey hunting with good friend Larry Proffitt. I was on assignment from Tennessee Wildlife magazine to do a story on mentoring new hunters.  Part of my photography game plan was to take pictures of Larry with his three grandsons and it was a joyous thing to watch as Larry lovingly worked with the young boys.


One of the most positive things we can do as outdoors folks is to take youngsters (or adults that are unfamiliar with any number of outdoor pursuits such as fishing, hunting, birding, camping, hiking, and canoeing) afield. 

Doing so is very satisfying but it is also a great way to preserve and protect our outdoor heritage.  If we are to grow/create the next generation of hunters or birders or hikers, we have to mentor the young or their parents.

My parents, although they grew up in rural Franklin County, Virginia, never had any interest in conducting any outside related activities.  Thus, they had nothing in that regard to pass on to me.  Luckily, I had childhood peers who enjoyed being outside, and I had enough wanderlust that I would also go off by myself to fish and seine for minnows.  However, it's far better for someone to have an older person, friend, or ideally a family member to tutor that individual.

This spring, consider taking your own children or a neighborhood child on an outdoors related trek.  Chances are that you'll have as much fun as the youngster does.

Organizing Fishing Tackle (Blog Twenty-six)

Come spring, one of the most common topics covered in the outdoor magazines is the need for fishermen to organize their tackle in preparation for the warm weather period.  I never read those stories because they seldom cover anything new.
For the past week or so, though, I have been organizing fishing tackle in our basement, a room which has just this month been finished, even though Elaine and I had the house built in 1989.  Elaine has instructed me "not to junk up" our "new" basement, which, truth to say, I plead guilty of doing to the old one.
It's just that as an outdoor writer, companies have for years sent me all kinds of fishing and hunting related gear to try out, much of it extremely useful but, alas, a high percentage of it pure, unadulterated junk.
For example, one of the worst items I have ever received was emu oil.  The press release guaranteed that the oil, when rubbed onto the skin, would prevent sunburn and when applied to fishing lures would provoke huge bass to strike...utter nonsense on both accounts.
Holding down second place are the freeze dried deer droppings that once came in the mail.  The instructions were for the user to sprinkle this deer crap around a hunter's tree stand and then wait for the big bucks to come rushing in.  Although I tossed the emu oil in the trash can, I hurled the freeze dried deer droppings into the woods behind our house.  Perhaps big bucks arrived that night, I don't know.
The fishing lures have now been organized, the basement is now looking good, and Elaine is pleased with my diligence.  And she and I are going trout fishing as soon as the water levels drop just a little.

Time to Garden (Blog Twenty-five)

Saturday, I planted white onion sets, potatoes, and spinach in our organic garden.  But before I did so, I harvested the last of the 2010 crop, specifically the onions that I had missed picking last year and that had sprung up this spring.  It is always a nice bonus to have fresh onions, which we will dine on today for lunch with grilled venison tenderloin.Every spring, I silently vow to make the coming garden the best one ever.  But every year, something (work schedule, drought, pestilential insects) derails this quest. So I recently contacted friend Paul Hinlicky, who always has a superb garden, for his advice.

"Mulch," was the first word Paul said.  "Put down a layer of newspaper. I usually separate out all the
glossy, colored stuff  used for advertisements and use only the basic newsprint.  On top of that I put mulched leaves/compost which will decompose over the summer until it can be tilled into the ground in the fall.

"If you don’t have that, you can buy some old hay, small bales are easiest to manage. People will give away old rotting bales. Just spread them thickly over the newspaper. I go for 4 or 5 inches of mulch, because it will decompose over the summer. Mulch holds in the moisture so you rarely have to water. It suppresses the weeds. And it enriches the soil. How can you lose? I also use grass clippings from when I start to mow the grass. Lots of times neighbors bag their grass clippings and put them out for trash. Of course, when you sow from seed you can’t mulch until the seedlings are up and viable, then carefully so you don’t smother them, here grass clippings are best because you can tuck them right in to the little shoots.

"But for transplants like peppers and tomatoes, do the newspaper and hay. Or, if you have trouble getting
 the tomatoes to ripen before the fall, use black plastic which soaks the heat in, which tomatoes and peppers just love. The other thing I love to do is till in horse manure. Best fertilizer in the world."

The Birds Are Back (Blog Twenty-four)

One of the wonderful things about March is that this is the month when some of the migratory songbirds start to return to our Southwest Virginia property.  Last week for the first time this year, I heard a phoebe singing, calling out its name, "phoebe, phoebe, phoebe," in continuous bouts of energetic tune making.  Also last week, I heard my first grackles of the year.  Although the whistlings, croaks, and squeaks of grackles are not particularly tuneful, the sounds were still a harbinger of spring.
Of course, some species have been in fine form for some time now.  Great horned owls have been doing their hooting since January, mourning doves have been uttering their plaintive notes since February, and tufted titmice have been singing "peter, peter, peter," since early March.  Two weeks ago, the Carolina chickadees and white-breasted nuthatches, which often travel in mixed flocks with titmice, began singing as well.
The woodpeckers are also becoming more vocal and are drumming as well.  For example, a pileated woodpecker on Saturday was making its "cuck, cuck, cuck," sound, when another pileated began to drum on a dead tree.  This set forth a whole series of drumming sounds from different parts of our 38 acres and nearby properties as well.  The sap is starting to rise as are testosterone levels in the avians. 
And this morning in the hollow behind our house, a tom turkey was gobbling, and every time he did so, a gobbler on the back end of our land responded.  Is a fight between the two a certainty?
I anxiously await the arrival of other songsters as well.  Within a fortnight, I expect towhees, pine warblers, and chipping sparrows to arrive.  Perhaps we will even have some temporary spring  visitors such as hermit thrushes make an appearance.

Tree Planting Time (Blog Twenty-three)

This past week, Elaine, our son Mark, and I planted 100 white pine seedlings to replace the Virginia pines that a logger harvested in December.  The Virginia pines were over 50 years old and many of them were diseased and others had already fallen.  It was simply time for them to be cut and for the next generation of trees to begin.
This coming week we should have another shipment of white pines arrive, this one consisting of 250 seedlings, that we ordered from the Virginia Department of Forestry.  Those trees will be planted on the back side of our 38-acre property, again to replace a cut Virginia pine thicket.  And the remaining seedlings will be taken to our 83-acre tract in Gap Mills so that I can continue reforesting a part of that property, specifically a badly overgrazed pasture that I added to the tract last July.
Our "new" pines in a few years will provide needed cover for small game animals such as rabbits and hopefully ruffed grouse, and in a decade or so should provide the beginnings of a bedding area for whitetails.  In 15 or so years, perhaps the aptly named pine warbler will be among the species nesting in the treetops.
In a fortnight or so, we will receive a shipment of four persimmon and two paw paw trees.  They will be planted in the food plot behind the house.  All of these activities will be hard work but the actual labor is very satisfying and potentially very good for wildlife.

 

Grilled Antelope Burgers? (Blog Twenty-two)

Recently, I went rabbit hunting with Delbert Dudding of Botetourt County and several of his friends.  When Delbert picked me up for the outing, he brought Elaine and me a package each of antelope burger and mule deer steak.  Over the course of the next week, Elaine and I dined on these exotic for us meats as of course neither creature lives anywhere near our Southwest Virginia home.I enjoyed both the burgers and the steak, especially the former as I found antelope meat very mild and similar in taste to venison.  The experience caused me to think about other unusual wild foods I have dined on.  My dad, for example, told me that as a boy growing up in the Great Depression his mom fixed "fried possum" - a repast that dad does not remember fondly.But I have enjoyed a number of atypical game meals.  Once in Summersville, West Virginia my host served grilled alligator - an extremely tasty dish.  Another time a friend brought Elaine and me a stingray which Elaine baked - again another delicious treat.  A number of times I have consumed grilled frog legs and yes they do taste like chicken.I admit that I have not yet tried fried opossum, and really have no desire to do so - based on dad's accounts of the meat's greasy nature.  But I am game for just about anything else. 

Chickens, Part II (Blog Twenty-one)

Saturday, Elaine and I finished building some 80 percent of our chicken run.  The weekend before we had dug holes then set the posts in concrete.  Our primary activity yesterday was to position the aptly named "chicken wire" around those posts and to attach the wire.

Our next goal will be to make a door that will obviously serve as the coop's entrance, attach that door to a post, and finish positioning the chicken wire.  The next project will be more difficult - building the coop.

Elaine has long made fun of me for not being handy with tools, and the truth is that I am not.  Both of our fathers were very handy around their respective houses, and it has always been apparent to her that tool handiness is not something that genetically can be passed down - at least in my family.

Our daughter Sarah's husband, David, is an engineer, and he not only can read and make plans (both of which I seem incapable of) but carry them out as well. One of the reasons that I wanted to undertake the "chicken project" as we are now calling it, is so that I could develop some handyman skills.

Meanwhile, we are scheduled to receive 10 Rhode Island Red chicks the first week of May.  I had better become adept at coop building in a hurry.

Venison Chowder (Blog Twenty)

If you are looking to fix venison dishes in different ways, here is a recipe that I recently tried and that Bruce and I both enjoyed.  For dessert, we had wild blackberry pie.  Ice cream is optional!

Venison Chowder

1 carrot, chopped

1 rib celery, chopped

1 medium onion, chopped

1-2 tbsp. olive oil

1 pound ground venison

1 8-oz. can tomato sauce

2 cups liquid (chicken broth, vegetable broth, or game stock are other possibilities)

Salt and pepper to taste (ground pepper and sea salt are really good)

8 oz. whole wheat pasta

Heat the oil in a Dutch oven or large saucepan. Add the carrot, celery, and onion, cooking until slightly tender.  Add the ground venison and cook until browned.  Stir in the tomato sauce and 2 cups liquid.  Cook 10 minutes or so, adding salt and pepper to taste.  At this time cook the pasta according to the package directions.  Add the drained pasta to the venison mixture and heat together for 4-5 minutes more. 

You can garnish with chopped parsley, cheese, or sliced green onions.

Chickens (Blog Nineteen)

Recently, Elaine and I have been discussing whether or not to raise chickens on our 38-acre parcel.  We have been reading books and magazines on the topic and talking with other folks who have reared these animals.  The desire to raise chickens is part of our goal to be as self-sufficient as we can in regards to what we eat.

This past year I killed 10 deer in Virginia and West Virginia and tagged a total of five turkeys in Virginia, West Virginia, and Tennessee, fulfilling much of our meat needs for 2011.  Elaine buys organic, free range chickens from a local Botetourt farmer (who has already processed them, of course), and we are thinking maybe we could raise our own chickens for meat and eggs, thus basically not having to buy any meat from anyone, except for fish for an occasional dinner.

Of course, one of the things we already know about chickens is that they have a lot of wild predators: raccoons, skunks, opossums, coyotes, bobcats, bears, hawks, and owls - all of which we have in abundance in Botetourt County.  And domestic animals such as dogs and cats will kill a chicken if they have a chance.  So raising chickens would require, first of all, that we create a safe run and a predator proof hen house for them.  Last year, a bear crumpled our seven-foot-tall garden fence and climbed into our vegetable patch, so I am not sure any structure we make or buy will be totally predator proof.

Still, the two of us are intrigued by the thought of raising chickens.  In a couple of months, I will let you know what progress we are making on this issue.  Meanwhile, if you have insight on this topic, please feel free to e-mail us or comment here.

Paw Paw Cookies (Blog Eighteen)

In one of my first blogs, I wrote about the joys of gathering paw paws in the fall and Elaine making bread from these fruits.  When Elaine did so last autumn, she froze the leftover pulp and yesterday she brought a touch of autumn to a drab winter day by making paw paw cookies.

Monday during my English 10 Honors class at Lord Botetourt High School in Daleville, Virginia, I began a lesson on the Great Depression and the classic novel OF MICE AND MEN by discussing how our ancestors during the 1930s were often subsistence hunters and gatherers.  Paw paws, I explained, were often gathered and used for pies, breads, cookies, and general eating.  Even if you are not a hunter/gatherer like myself, you can enjoy Elaine's recipe.

Pawpaw Cookies   1 1/2 c. pawpaw pulp 3/4 c. softened butter 1 1/3 c. sugar 1 egg 3 c. sifted flour 1 Tbsp. baking soda 1 tsp. salt 1/4 tsp. ginger 1/4 tsp.cloves 1 tsp. nutmeg 1 tsp. cinnamon 2/3 cup walnuts Thoroughly cream the shortening and sugar. Add beaten egg and pawpaw. Stir in the dry ingredients, which have been sifted together, and mix well. Form into small balls and place on cookie sheet. Press into round flat shape Bake in a 350 degree oven for 11-12 minutes.

False Spring (Blog Seventeen)

On a recent January morning just after sunrise I was out walking behind the house on Elaine's and my 38-acre spread.  The temperature was in the low 40s, and it was the first morning in quite some time when the wind was not howling and the temperature was above freezing.

I paused when I heard a mature hen turkey making the assembly call to her jakes and jennies.  The assembly call is a long series of yelps that flock hens often utter shortly before or after fly down so that they can call in their flock members.  The assembly yelp is not at all a "sexual" call.

But to a nearby group of gobblers, the warmer morning and the sound of a hen (even though the female notes had nothing to do with reproduction) were enough to cause their male hormones to awaken.  One male pronounced a gobble, then the next longbeard erupted with a double gobble, and then the two other toms, both jakes, began to gobble.

For some 20 minutes I delighted in listening to the lusty Lotharios, each attempting to out gobble the others and to attract the hen.  I heard no replies from the flock hen, which I assumed was busy doing what hens do this time of year, keep her young charges together and lead them to food.

Finally, the four gobblers ceased to proclaim that they were nature's gift to hens everywhere, and, I presume, began looking for food for themselves.  For just a brief period of time, April was here, but ultimately it was a false spring after all.

Wild Game (Blog Sixteen)

Over the weekend, a friend of mine brought several packages of meat from a bruin he had killed this past fall. So for lunch on Sunday, Elaine and I invited our daughter Sarah and her husband David over for a wild game meal.  The highlight for me was the quesadilla stuffed with cheese, red peppers, onions, and roast cuts from the aforementioned bear and a deer I had killed.

For my next school day  lunch, I dined on a bear roast sandwich, and that night Elaine and I supped on deer burgers.  My wife also announced that later in the week we would have squirrel casserole  All of this caused me to ponder how many other folks in the general area were consuming similar wild game themed meals - probably not many.

That's a shame because wild game, especially meat from such animals as wild turkeys, deer, grouse, and quail, is high in protein, low in calories, and chock full of beneficial minerals.  A diet consisting of wild game and fish, fruits and vegetables, and cereal grains is extremely healthy.

I'm not trying to be preachy, but in a country that is experiencing a nationwide obesity epidemic where even many young children are dangerously overweight, there needs to be a change in our collective eating habits.  Both young and old folks would be better off health wise with exercising more, participating in outdoor recreation (from fishing and hunting to walking, hiking, and biking) and eating leaner meat such as that which comes from fish and game. 

January Hunting Behind the House (Blog Fifteen)

Two of the best squirrel hunters I have ever met, Jerry Paitsel and Craig Fields, prefer going afield with .22 rifles and 16-gauge shotguns, respectively.  Jerry feels that the rifle excels at long distance shots that result in little damaged meat while Craig believes that the 16 gauge is a wonderful compromise between a 12 and 20-gauge (in terms of weight and pellet output) that sadly has few fans today.

My choice for squirrel hunting is a Remington 20-gauge autoloader that I have owned for over 20 years.  To me, there is something aesthetically pleasing about entering the January woods while
toting a 20 gauge.  The gun is light and easy to mount, and I like having a scattergun if I jump a cottontail or flush a ruffed grouse.

Last winter, for example, while toting my “squirrel gun,” I bumped a rabbit not long after I walked out the door and entered the woodlot behind our house.  I was fortunate enough to down the bunny and the next day Elaine cooked the meat (and that from some squirrels) in a crockpot along with onions, potatoes, peas, carrots, and celery. The result was several satisfying meals.

I look forward to going afield with the 20 gauge behind our house this coming Saturday morning.  And maybe tagging a couple of silvertails and perhaps even a rabbit for Saturday supper.

The Cherries of Summer Make the Pies of Winter (Blog Fourteen)

Last night, Elaine and I dined with friends Paul and Ellen Hinlicky of Roanoke, County, Virginia.  Our

contribution to the meal was a cherry pie, which came from an organically grown tree in our back yard. The

tree, a North Star, produced seven gallons of sour cherries the last ten days or so of May and the first few

days of June last spring.

Every evening every year during that time frame, Elaine and I spend about 45 minutes picking berries (Elaine holds the ladder while I reach for the fruit) and another 20 minutes or so pitting the cherries (a most distasteful job punctuated by red juice squirts covering much of our upper anatomy).  It’s hot, messy work and it occurs during a time when the mosquitoes like to make the outdoors part of the task a little more difficult.
Ah, but the rewards are worth the effort, time, and discomfort.  Elaine is a superlative cook, and freshly baked cherry pie or cobbler from berries that only a few hours earlier had been growing outside is a taste delight.  Elaine also made cherry preserves last summer, a marvelous concoction to spread on any kind of bread.

But the major rewards from our summer labors come during the winter.  We parcel out the berries so that we have several pies and/or cobblers every month during the fall and winter.  As good as a freshly made May/June pie is, somehow Elaine’s desserts taste even better when the temperature is cold and snow blankets the ground.  A testament to that is that after dinner at the Hinlicky’s house, only one slice of pie made it back home with my spouse and me, and Elaine was kind enough to say I could have it for dinner tonight.  I am ashamed to write (actually I’m not all that ashamed) that I enthusiastically consumed the entire, rather large piece.