Opening Day of Virginia's Spring Gobbler Season (Blog 133)

I began turkey hunting in 1986 and over the years, I have rarely missed an opening day of Virginia's spring gobbler season...and this year was no exception.  And over the years, I have only killed a gobbler on three opening days, roughly one per decade...and this year was no exception.

From the beginning, nothing went right.  I had a poor night's sleep as on Tuesday I had to resume taking medicine for my Lyme Disease.  Friday night, the medicine "kicked in," giving me stomach cramps for much of the night.  When I arrived at the Franklin County farm, I headed for a spot where I killed a tom in late April last year.  But some 100 yards from the car, I remembered that I had left my camo gloves in the vehicle.

After retrieving the gloves, I headed for my spot, and the morning started well with four toms gobbling on the roost.  But about the time they flew down, both of my legs started cramping and I was unable to keep my knees up with my shotgun resting on them.  After a long and frustrating morning and with my legs still cramping, I headed back to the vehicle so as to be out of the woods at noon, as is required in the Old Dominion.

I placed my gun, seat cushion, daypack, and car keys in the back seat...then found that the car had "locked itself," which resulted in a half-mile walk to the farmer's house.  Fortunately, I had left the driver's side window cracked open, so an acquaintance was able to jigger the lock to open by using a clothes hanger.

I am due to kill another gobbler on opening day of Virginia's season around the year 2020.

Spring Gobbler Hunting, Bird Watching, and Snow Falling (Blog 132)

Last week, I wrote about the last snow of winter, which I surely thought it was, but as I write this from Elaine's and my home in Botetourt County, Virginia, snow is falling...on April 4.  I normally go to Tennessee to spring gobbler hunt and this year I did the same the first three days of that state's season.

Like here in Virginia, the weather in Northeast Tennessee was very cold, but fortunately, thanks to my good friend Larry Proffitt's turkey hunting skills, I was able to kill a nice gobbler on opening day of the season.  But Sunday was cold and rainy and Monday was cold and windy.  The most interesting thing that happened on the trip was Larry and I seeing four albino turkey hens - a first for me.  They were all in the same flock and with a bearded hen.  What an interesting genetic study this particular flock would make.

Since coming back home, I have spent a great deal of time bird watching.  This morning, I thrilled to the dulcet sounds of a hermit thrush and observed such interesting birds as golden crowned kinglets, plus observed five black vultures perched in a sycamore tree next to our house.  Nothing had died, or nothing that I could see or smell, but it's never a pleasant thing to come out of your house in the morning and seeing black vultures waiting expectantly.

Snow, albino hens, and hermit thrushes...interesting things always happening in the outdoors.

Chickens and the Last Snow of Winter (Blog 131)

This past Sunday, Elaine and I spent much of the afternoon, trying to keep the netting covering our chicken run from collapsing.  For the third time this winter, a heavy snow fell, collecting on the netting and weighing it down.

The first two times this happened, the netting collapsed and consequently caused the post holding our solar power unit to fall as well.  It was a miserable experience for Elaine and me to slog about in the snow, trying to right the fence, repair the netting, and replace the netting in a number of places. The whole process was upsetting to our four-hen-flock as well, as egg production was negatively impacted.

So on Sunday, once every hour either Elaine or I would go to the chicken run and gently shake the snow off the netting.  Although some holes in this defense web did occur, when Monday morning arrived the netting was still in place and the chickens had been protected from airborne predators.

In about a month hopefully, our heritage Rhode Island Red chicks will arrive.  We can hardly wait to begin the process of raising them.

Building a Turkey Blind, Planting Onions, Watching the Tarheels (Blog 130)

This Saturday morning, I mapped out my weekend.  The first thing on my agenda (which I have already accomplished, was to set up the framework for a turkey blind.  Behind Elaine's and my Botetourt County home, a path intersects with our seeded logging road - and that is where I positioned several evergreens this morning.  Later, I will lay some other limbs and boughs there to finish the subterfuge.

After I finish writing this blog, I will plant 80 white onion sets in the garden.  I plan on letting our chickens out in the garden, so that they can swarm off the earthworms that no doubt will be displaced.  Interestingly, of our four hens, Ruby is the only one that is a fanatic worm eater.  The other ladies will take a worm if they have the chance, but Ruby will specifically target worms as she is sifting through litter.

When the onions have been planted and Elaine's and my lunch of venison burgers has been consumed, I will work on some magazine assignments that I have, then watch some games in the NCAA tournament.  But what I am really waiting for is the start of North Carolina's basketball game against Kansas on Sunday.  As a Tarheel fan of now 46 years, I am fearful of the Jayhawks, but we will see how things develop.

Not an overly exciting weekend, but a nice one out in the country.

Waiting for the First Gobble of the Spring (Blog 129)

Every morning when I go out to let our Rhode Island Reds out of their hen house, I pause to listen for that first gobble of the spring.  Surprisingly, I have not yet heard a gobbler sound off behind our Botetourt County, Virginia home.

I am not at all concerned, though.  There is a rhythm to the natural world and its creatures, and if there is anything I have learned from a lifetime spent outdoors, it is that wild animals are on their own time and not ours.

In the nearly 25 years that Elaine and I have lived here, we have heard turkey gobblers sound off on cold January days, hot July 4 afternoons, during springtime thunderstorms, and early fall mornings.  Why do turkeys - and other creatures - do what they do? Who knows... such is the mystery of life.

Interestingly, the hens behind our house have been quite boisterous at times, as well as being quite numerous.  Perhaps the toms have not been talking because there is no need to.  Again, I don't know.

But I do know that I will be hunting in Tennessee, Virginia, and West Virginia this spring, and this spring will be like every other spring season - unique unto itself.

Going Fishing for River Smallmouths (Blog 128)

Tomorrow, Sunday, will be my first river smallmouth fishing trip of the year.  With fishing shows to attend, school to teach, wood cutting to accomplish, small game animals to pursue, and magazine articles to write, I have not been able to seek out my favorite game fish until tomorrow.

Today, I have spent a great deal of time looking over my various tackle boxes and placing lures in my small hard plastic boxes - my go fishing boxes as opposed to my storage boxes. I also have put fresh line on the two spinning rods and one baitcaster that I plan on bringing tomorrow.

I will be going fishing with Britt Stoudenmire of the New River Outdoor Company.  Britt and I usually go river fishing early every March, and we usually, thanks to Britt's uncanny ability to locate quality smallmouths, do quite well.  I hope this March's outing will be similarly successful.

Mentally as I write, I am going over in my mind what my game plan will be for tomorrow.  I am hoping, given the warm weather, that I will primarily be able to toss hard plastic jerkbaits, which I am very comfortable doing this time of year or perhaps even crankbaits, which is another comfort bait for me.

Hopefully, the smallies will not be tight to the bottom, where I will be forced to inch jig and soft plastic chunks along - not one of my strong points.  Can't wait to see what tomorrow will bring.

Timber Stand Improvement (Blog 127)

This Saturday morning friend Bob Boeren came over to help me with some Timber Stand Improvement projects.  Bob, who has recently started a business, Ranger Bob's Forestry Services, (www.rangerbobsforest.webs.com) has long been a big help to me with habitat improvement projects.

This year, since I am recovering from Lyme Disease, I want to finish all my habitat projects before the end of March, since it was last April when I was bitten by a tick that caused me to come down with the affliction.  Of course, I will be spring gobbler hunting in Virginia, West Virginia, and Tennessee, but I do want to limit my time afield as much as possible when the ticks become active.

Anyway, the best project that Bob and I completed was daylighting a white oak that was surrounded by red cedars.  Bob said the oak would likely flourish now and might even produce acorns within a decade.  That sounds like a long time, but in the long lifespan of a white oak, that is no time at all.

Bob also showed me how to better cut through downed logs and even helped with a magazine article I am doing on bowhunting for deer.  All in all, it was a very productive day.

Saturday Spent at Fishersville Show (Blog 126)

Today, I drove to Fishersville, Virginia  for the Western Virginia Sports Show held annually in February at Expoland.  For the September issue of Virginia Game & Fish every year, I profile four of the hunters who entered trophy bucks.  

It is fascinating interviewing these fortunate and talented individuals and learning, so to speak, the stories behind the stories.  Another great thing about the show is that I am able to meet guides, outfitters, and folks in the fishing and hunting business in the Mid-Atlantic region and beyond.     

I also am able to touch base with friends in the outdoors business, as today, for example, I was able to talk with people such as Jim Clay, Sherry Crumley, and Dennis Campbell.  I also talked to some outfitters that I hope to go fishing and hunting with in the future.

I can't reveal here the stories behind the stories on those trophy bucks, of course, because that article will go in a magazine, but I can state that visiting the Western Virginia Sportshow is a great way to spend a winter day.

Cutting Wood on a Saturday, Part II (Blog 125)

Today, Saturday, I continued to work on providing our firewood needs and in freeing up some hard mast trees.  Soon, March will arrive and my Saturdays will be filled with river smallmouth trips and some native brook trout fishing, but, for now, I want to finish some timber cutting chores.

The first task was to cut up an ash that crashed into a  ladder stand several years ago.  The wood has seasoned nicely, though the stand has long since made its way to a recycling bin.  After that, I cut up a downed oak and a fallen ironwood tree.  Ironwood must be the hardest wood I have ever tried to saw through.

While toting the wood back to Elaine's and my house, I spotted a small oak that I had never noticed before.  Four small red cedars and two Virginia pines encircled the four-foot-tall oak, so I felled them all in order to give the young oak a real chance to grow and hopefully thrive.  I just really enjoy releasing a tree so that it can perhaps reach its potential.

After that it was time to babysit my grandson and to watch North Carolina host UVA - which resulted in a Tarheel victory.  Nothing momentous happened today, but it was surely a great way to spend a Saturday.

Cutting Wood on a Saturday (Blog 124)

Saturday afternoon, my beloved North Carolina Tarheels were being blown out of a game against Miami, and I must confess that I turned off the game part way through the second half and began early what Elaine's and my scheduled Saturday chore was...cutting firewood.

I used to despise winter, especially after the late muzzleloader and squirrel seasons ended.  But now, I truly enjoy this time of year.  I like going behind our house and cutting up for firewood hardwoods that have fallen.  Today, Elaine and I worked on a fallen ash and a downed oak, plus a black walnut that had been damaged during the high winds that took place last June.

The downed oak was easily turned into firewood and is already stacked in our garage.  The ash was much larger, so it will be split Sunday afternoon.  The black walnut is too green for firewood this season but will serve nicely next year.

Another activity that we enjoy doing is looking for opportunities to do some Timber Stand Improvement.  Two Virginia pines that are crowding a quartet of oaks are just begging to be cut, and that deed is on our list of future Saturday activities.  It was definitely good to go into the woods after a disappointing UNC loss today.

Heritage Rhode Island Red Chicks? (Blog 123)

Currently, Elaine and I are in the midst of a debate on whether we will try to purchase chicks to raise this spring.  I told Elaine that the final decision is hers because given that I am away teaching school Monday through Friday, she will be the primary caretaker.

Right now, Elaine is leaning toward us purchasing some heritage Rhode Island Reds.  In May of 2011, we bought 10 "industrial" RIR chicks.  We only have two birds left from that purchase (Ruby and Little Spotty Hen) as two chicks died not long after the purchase and the other six were roosters.
We bought two young hens in August of that year (they were crosses between Rhode Island Reds and Whites).

The quartet has done a great job of producing eggs up until the last three months or so.  But the production that was once three or four eggs per day has dropped to only six or seven eggs a week.  Part of the decline has been because our hens are moulting, but part also is that egg production decreases once hens reach two years or so.

We have always been interested in "heritage or traditional" apples, so we thought that we would like to try raising heritage RIRs.  The problem is that we don't know where to buy heritage chicks.  If anyone can help with this, we would appreciate that individual e-mailing us or leaving a comment.

Chickens and Snow (Blog 122)

We have experienced two snowfalls in Botetourt County over the course of the past week or so, and the precipitation has been very stressful for our quartet of hens.  The first snow was the most traumatic as about three inches of very wet slush fell which caused the netting over the run to collapse.

The collapse of the netting caused the post where the solar unit is located to crumple, which, in turn, caused the solar unit, which protects the perimeter through the means of two wires, to fall to the ground.  The falling of that post caused the gate to the run to not shut correctly.

So Elaine and I after dark that snowy day struggled to reset the solar unit post and to fix the gate to the run.  When we peaked inside the hen house, we only saw three of the girls with Little Spotty Hen no where to be found.  We feared that she had been injured or even killed by all the "collapsing" that was going on.

Finally, Elaine found Spotty under the hen house.  The next day she was limping, so indeed she may have been injured.

Yet another snowfall took place this Friday with the hens spending much of the day either in their house or under it.  It is very clear that our Rhode Island Reds do not like snow.

The Chicken that Won't Go to Bed (Blog 121)

In Elaine's and my fascinating foray into rearing chickens, another aspect of chicken behavior has manifested itself.  My job is to let our flock out of the hen house in the morning while Elaine's is to put the gang to bed in the evening by making sure all four hens are ensconced in their abode.

But for the past six weeks or so, Dot, who ranks last in the pecking order, has refused to go to bed no matter how late the hour.  Elaine has become increasingly frustrated by Dot's obstinacy, so I have been more and more taking on the evening chore.

This is how things typically unfold in the evening.  Ruby, our alpha hen, goes to roost in the house a good three minutes before any other hen.  Little Spotty, who ranks third, enters next and immediately pitches up next to Ruby.

Three or four minutes more elapse, then Tallulah, second in the pecking order, goes into the house.  It is at that time that Dot goes to the far end of run and awaits at the door.  Elaine refuses to pick up Dot and place her in the house.  And then the two of them engage in a battle of wills concerning which will do something next.  Often the two of them are out there until after dark.

Friend J.J. Alderson who lives a few miles from us says that she has a half dozen or so chickens that likewise refuse to go into their house.  Her misbehaving flock flies up to a table outside the Alderson house and wait for J.J. to see to their bedtime needs.

I won't participate in Dot's stalling tactics (who knows what is going on in the mind of a chicken anyway), scooping her up when I enter the run and placing her on the gangplank leading into the house.  Dot always goes straight in when I do that.

I was wondering if other chicken owners have experienced this behavior and if they could e-mail Elaine and me about their experiences or perhaps post comments here?

Bunnies and Bushytails Behind the House (Blog 120)

With Virginia's long deer season over, I can now enjoy some of the most relaxing hunting possible - pursuing rabbits and squirrels behind our Botetourt County, Virginia home.  Late in the afternoon today, I am going to take a walk on the seeded logging road that runs throughout our 38 acres and visit brier patches, clearcuts, and brush piles for bunnies and hardwood hollows and pine glades for bushytails.

Few pleasures in life are as soothing as being able to walk out your back door and go hunting and fishing.  When Elaine and I were considering whether to buy this land in 1988, I told her how meaningful and special it would be to me to own it.  Of course, the land was expensive, like just about any property, but she was sweet  to let me have it.

In the 25 years we have owned the land and the 24 that we have lived on it, I have made numerous habitat improvements, thinning trees so that the survivors could produce more mast, having clearcuts done to benefit songbirds and game animals, creating a food plot, and planting oaks and white pines. In January and February, I have planned more Timber Stand Improvement projects.

So today around 4:00, I am going to walk out my back door and take that walk.  Whether I bring home any game or not is irrelevant- the joy of being outside, as always, will be paramount.

Virginia Deer Season Ends (Blog 119)

As I write this, it is 4:40 A.M., and I am preparing to take my son and son-in-law deer hunting in Craig County, Virginia. Today is the last day of the late muzzleloader season.  After killing a deer on Monday, I am satisfied with the amount of venison in Elaine's and my freezer, so I won't be carrying a gun.

The temperature, according to www.weather.com, will be around 10 degrees in the mountains of Craig this morning, and I am not looking forward to venturing out in the frigid air.  Though we will be dressing as warmly as possible,  I wonder how long we will last out in the elements before the car heater beckons.  Making things worse is the fact that the wind is howling.

I started deer hunting on Labor Day Saturday, participating in Roanoke County's first urban archery season.  I was aloft in a tree stand about 30 minutes before sunrise, and the temperature was about 65 degrees.  By the time I descended, the temp was around 80 degrees, and the mosquitoes had begun to eye my skin with increasing aggressiveness.  No need to worry about them today.

I am looking forward to going squirrel hunting on Saturdays in January.  One of the great joys in the sporting life is pursuing wintertime silvertails behind our Botetourt County home.  On a warm, say 40 degrees, Saturday afternoon, I like to sit under an oak tree, reading a book and periodically scanning the area for movement.  If I don't bring home any bushytails, no big deal.

How I Almost Met General Norman Schwarzkopf (Blog 118)

The recent death of General Norman Schwarzkopf made me recall how I almost met him but turned down the opportunity.  Several years after the Gulf War ended, I had a call early one September from a resort inviting me to come stay, free of charge and with my meals paid for as well, for a two-day sporting clays shoot with the general the very next week.

The resort's public relations person said that he "hoped" I would do a magazine article on the weekend, touting the resort's features, its excellent sporting clays course, and the resort's connection with the general.  From the start, I knew that the resort more than hoped I would do a story, the establishment was expecting  a major article in a national magazine.

I explained to the PR person that besides being an outdoor writer, I was also a high school English teacher and that school had just started for the year.  I said I would think about the offer and return the call in a few days.

There were all sorts of proverbial "red flags" tormenting me.  In the first place, I didn't feel comfortable going at all, knowing full well what the resort really wanted out of me - a profile in a major national magazine. Since the general was coming in less than a week, the resort's PR person had not given me much time to find an assignment.

Also, I had never been to a sporting clays course before, and this is no false modesty, I am a terrible wing shot for grouse and doves - as anyone who has ever bird hunted with me can attest.  The thought of standing next to this American hero and missing shot after shot was not a pleasant vision. My school system then had a policy that our two annual personal leave days could not be taken back and back and that was another complication.  And what if the resort's food and accommodations were lacking, how would the establishment have felt if I had written that?  Furthermore, I didn't know enough about sporting clays to even know if the course would be any good or not.

Finally, I decided to do what I felt was the right thing...to turn down the invitation, telling the PR person about my school's personal leave policy, which was a truthful statement on my part.

And so I didn't go to the event.  A few days later I told my principal about the invitation and he said that he would have arranged for the school policy to have been broken.  I have always regretted not meeting General Norman Schwarzkopf, but I have never regretted not going to the resort that time.

Chickens Hard at Work (Blog 117)

Our flock of four hens never ceases to amaze us, specifically the quartet's industriousness.  For example, Elaine and I never rake leaves, preferring to let them rot into the soil.  The one exception is the big piles that gather at our garage doors.  We typically rake those and deposit them into the woods.

However, several weeks ago, we decided to deposit the leaves in the chicken run, where our girls were delighted to constantly sift and scratch through them.  The two piles we placed there were soon "flattened out" and now shredded leaves are scattered throughout the run.  By spring, we will be able to gather up the leafy debris, mixed in with manure, and either put the mass into the compost bin or perhaps a corner of our fenced garden for further decomposition.

Ruby, Little Spotty (shown below at work scratching), Tallulah, and Dot are also doing a superior job at "tilling" our garden this winter, which lies adjacent to the chicken run. Already they have eradicated a particularly stubborn line of weeds at the upper end of the garden.  They have also thoroughly scratched the spaces where the tomato plants grew this past summer, no doubt consuming many harmful pests that otherwise would have overwintered and returned to plague our vegetables.

And, of course, there are the droppings from our hens.  Last fall, every time we cleaned the henhouse, we dumped the straw and droppings into the garden.  Later, I worked in the "litter" into the soil.  I am convinced this extra organic matter was a major reason why Elaine and I enjoyed the best garden we have had in many years.

This fall and winter, we have not even bothered to work in the litter.  We are letting the chickens do that - a task they seem to relish.

Venison Tenderloin and Wineberry Cobbler for Lunch (Blog 116)

It's a cold, rainy, dreary winter day in Botetourt, and Elaine and I have spent the day at home, mostly indoors.  It's the type of day to have meals made from food that we have killed, gathered, or raised during the year.

For example, for lunch our entree was venison tenderloin that came from a doe I killed on a Botetourt County cattle farm.  Our dessert was wineberry pie, which came from wineberries that we gathered behind our house this past June.

For dinner in a few hours, we will have omelets, made from eggs that our four-hen flock produced this month.  Today, we even put a "sunflower chain" out for the songbirds.  Saturday while I was deer hunting in Franklin County, I came across a recently harvested sunflower field.

I gathered a half dozen or so flower heads, and this afternoon Elaine strung them on a piece of twine to create a little wayside eatery for the tufted titmice, Carolina chickadees, and white-breasted nuthatches, among other avians, that will, no doubt, soon discover this little mini-restaurant for them.

Nothing of much import really happened today, but Elaine and I had a nice day in our country home.  Perhaps tonight, we will even play Scrabble.

Trapped in the Chicken Run (Blog 115)

Last week, I wrote about leaving hunting gear behind, my incompetence manifested itself in a new way this week on Friday.  I locked myself inside the chicken run.

Elaine and I split the duties regarding taking care of our chickens.  Usually, for example, it is my job to let our flock out of their henhouse in the morning, while she puts them to bed at night.  Friday evening Elaine was grilling venison burgers for dinner, so I volunteered to make sure that Ruby, Little Spotty Hen, Tallulah, and Dot were locked inside their house safely.

I accomplished that task satisfactorily.  But when I pushed on the chicken run door, it would not give.  After some struggling against the door, I belatedly decided to check on the lock.  Somehow the hook had fallen into the eye and "locked itself," leaving me trapped inside.  I began yelling for Elaine to come let me out, but I could hear the oven grill exhaust and she clearly could not detect my cries.

Our daughter Sarah, her husband David, and son Sam live across the hollow from us, but that is a good 125 yards away from us and its wintertime, so no windows are open.  Luckily, a neighbor across the road was outside and heard my pleas, so she called out if I needed help.  Too embarrassed to yell back what had happened, I merely shouted for her to call Elaine and ask her to come outside.

Predictably, Elaine laughed and teased me about my plight, and even went so far as to suggest that our hens probably wouldn't mind if I spent the night in the chicken abode. I also think she took a little longer than necessary to unlock the gate.  One of the reasons I love her so much is that she constantly teases me about my shortcomings, a number of which have been showing themselves lately.

Leaving Gear Behind in the Woods, Part II (Blog 114)

Several blogs ago, I wrote about my penchant for leaving gear behind while hunting.  Today, on the last day of the general firearms season West of the Blue Ridge in Virginia, I outdid myself.  My son Mark and I drove to an Alleghany County property where not only was the deer hunting wretched, but I also left my camera case and lunch box behind.

Now as a freelance writer/photographer, my most important gear item is my Nikon camera which is stored within a Pelican case.  For someone in my profession to leave such an important item behind is like a carpenter leaving his tool box behind or a fishermen forgetting to bring any fishing rods on a fishing trip.

Come to think of it, I once left my fishing rods behind.  Elaine and I had just been married for a few months and decided to go on a combination camping and fishing trip.  I left behind the fishing rods, tent, and several items which now escape me as some 34 1/2 years have passed.  To forget to remember to bring what are arguably the most important items on a combo fishing and camping trip (ie the rods and tent) is just unfathomable and wreaks of incompetence.

Elaine has just called the landowner and apologized for my snafu.  The aforementioned items are in the landowner's driveway.  Our son Mark will pick up the items one day this coming week at the landowner's place of business.  My long suffering sweetheart of a wife definitely has to have a great patience in dealing with me.