Spending Father's Day with My Son (Blog 194)

Sunday, Father's Day, I spent much of the day with my son Mark.  In the morning, we went float fishing on the Roanoke River.  Although the fishing was poor (we only caught one small smallmouth between the two of us), I don't think either one of us minded too much.  It was just good to talk about fishing, sports, school (both of us are school teachers) and life in general.

That evening, we watched the NBA finals game between Miami and San Antonio.  Neither one of us is a fan of either of the teams, but that didn't matter.  We analyzed coaching strategy, play selection, and fantastic - and poor - plays.

The poor fishing and indifference to who won the game are not what I will remember about this day.  What I will remember is experiencing one of my best Father's Days ever.  I have been extremely fortunate in my life to have a wonderful wife Elaine and two wonderful children in Sarah and Mark and now even a fine son-in-law David and grandchildren, Sam and Eli.

Fly Strike Fells Rooster (Blog 193)

Last week, we sadly lost our alpha rooster, Boss.  Boss was the biggest Rhode Island Red I have ever seen and gentle as he was huge.  We had just finished gathering eggs fertilized by Boss for incubation when he apparently developed the flu or a bad cold; we are not sure which.  He was lethargic on a Tuesday and very sick on Wednesday.

I removed him from the rest of the flock on Wednesday and gave him water, which he periodically threw up.  I noticed that flies were buzzing about him, but I figured that was because of his droppings which were quite moist.  On Thursday morning, there were several hundred maggots around him and an hour later he was dead.  When I removed him from the chicken tractor, hordes of maggots were writhing in his vent area.

After talking to some other folks and doing research, Boss appears to be a victim of the original ailment that struck him, as well as the flies finishing him off by breeding on him -called Fly Strike.  Elaine and I would appreciate any insight on this.

Bear Attacks Chicken Run (Blog 192)

Last week, I wrote about Sweetie Pie's panicked escape and our three-hour search for her.  A few days later, Elaine and I learned why the hen and the rest of the flock were acting so stressed last Tuesday.

We found bear paw prints on the compost bin that borders the chicken run, and we also saw where a bruin had bent down the top of one side of the fence, torn off the netting that covers that side, and left claw prints on the wood support.  The only thing, we believe, that kept the bear from entering the compound was the fact that it must have been repeatedly shocked by the solar powered fence (two wires about eight inches apart run around the perimeter) as it tried to break in.

The day after the attack, the chickens refused to leave the henhouse and neither Boss nor Johnny crowed.  It was as if every bird was trying to hunker down and stay inside for safety.  The quartet only came out after much encouragement from me.

We have taken a number of precautions to keep our birds safe in terms of fortifying the run, but nothing we have done has been as important as constructing the solar powered electric fence.

The Return of the Prodigal Chicken Hen (Blog 191)

Sunday when our son Mark was visiting, he and I were outside working in the backyard.  It was time to put our four heritage Rhode Island Reds back in the run, so I called out "Let's go home" to the quartet, and the chickens immediately walked back inside the enclosure on their own.

Mark expressed amazement at how well trained our chickens were and asked "Do they always behave that well?"

Turns out, the answer is no.

Tuesday, Elaine and I observed the opposite of good behavior in our birds.  We let our flock out at 4:00 P.M. and at 5:00, I called out "Let's go home."

Boss, Johnny, and Baby headed back toward the run with Sweetie Pie lagging behind.  As the first three reached the doorway, one of the trio gave the alarm cluck which sent Sweetie Pie into full-blown panic.  As I shut the door on the lead three chickens, Sweetie Pie ran into the woods to the right of the driveway.

I quickly followed her into the woods, meanwhile calling to her and calling out to Elaine to come help.  But this woods was clear cut four years ago and has grown back extremely thick.  Soon I lost sight of the hen.

For the next hour we called to Sweetie Pie but she never responded. Our son-in-law David came over and he, Elaine, and I searched in vain.   I then had the idea of playing a tape of a rooster crowing, the hope being that Sweetie Pie would come to that sound - a forlorn hope as things evolved.

Then we asked our neighbor Kim and her daughter Sarah to come over with two of their dogs for tracking purposes.  That scheme failed as well. I did glimpse Sweetie Pie one time in the thicket, but when I called to her she went the opposite way.

Knowing that Sweetie Pie was unlikely to survive a night in the woods (given all the predators about) and with just about 15 minutes of daylight left, I had one last gambit to play.  That is, Elaine and I would continuously circle the clearcut with the hope that Sweetie Pie would panic and begin alarm clucking when she realized that she was all by herself in a darkening woods.

Sure enough, Sweetie Pie did begin alarm clucking, and I ran to the sound.  I spotted her through the undergrowth, and deciding that calling would be futile, I scudded toward her.  She bolted and I chased her for about 40 yards until I made a leap over a deadfall and ran her down.  Tucking her tight to my stomach, I held her firmly as Elaine and I walked back to the chicken run.

We opened the top of the henhouse and deposited Sweetie Pie inside, where Sweetie Pie once again emitted the alarm cluck.  Johnny walked over to her and pecked her three times hard on the head.

"Serves her right for misbehaving so much," said Elaine.

Elaine at Quilt Camp (Blog 190)

My students at Lord Botetourt High School often, as the weekend approaches, ask what my wife Elaine and I will be doing.  When Elaine goes away to quilt camp as she is doing this week, and I give the students that information, they almost always laugh at the thought of quilters going on  a getaway.

As much I miss Elaine when she is away at quilt camp (and she usually goes on four or so of these outings per year), I am thrilled that she can do so.  Elaine enjoys so much the camaraderie of the other ladies, plus she is able to work - and receive advice - on her many projects.

Elaine will return around noon on Sunday, and I will be overjoyed to see her.  And she will have so much to tell me about the events of the long weekend, how much she learned and accomplished.  It is great that she enjoys this hobby.

A Strutting Turkey Hen (Blog 189)

This past Monday, I witnessed something while turkey hunting that I had never seen before - a strutting hen.  I had placed a decoy out in a Botetourt County field and was yelping and clucking.  When out of the corner of my right eye, I glimpsed a turkey marching - and marching is the right word - directly to the decoy.

The turkey was all "puffed out" in full strut.  I eased up my 12 gauge, clicked off the safety, and leveled the gun on the bird, which I thought was a gobbler.

Fortunately, I waited to have a better view of the bird because when the turkey reached the decoy, it was very clear that the bird was a female.  No beard and a dark colored head, plus a fairly small body clearly indicated that the turkey was a hen.

The hen then proceeded to circle the decoy, angrily clucking at it.  Soon the hen was finished displaying that she was the alpha female in this part of the world, and she left in triumph.

Scarlet Tanagers and American Redstarts (Blog 188)

My Virginia spring gobbler season has been very unsatisfactory so far, as I have not punched a tag.  But the spring woods have been as glorious as ever.

Today, the closest I came to a gobbler was around 11:00 A.M. when two toms wandered by some 80 yards distant.  But for much of the day, I experienced the joy of watching some beautifully colored scarlet tanagers and American redstarts on a hunt in Craig County.

Last week, I heard my first scarlet tanagers of the year, but did not actually see one until today.  Most of the time this tanager is a creature of the tree tops, but today I observed several of these birds, which sport a scarlet body with black wings, feeding on the ground.  What's more, they were quite close and I watched them flitting among the leaf litter.

Several times, American restarts came by as well.  This bird, which has a song like a squeaky wheel, was busily going about eating insects from small trees.  The species' combination of orange and coal black is a rather unique color scheme - for sure there is nothing in the Virginia mountains that looks like it.

I also heard my first worm eating warbler of the year.  On a sad note, though, I have not yet heard a whip-poor-will or a chucks-will-widow.  Their population declines are very alarming.

Spring's Transition Time (Blog 187)

As I was sitting in Virginia's spring gobbler woods this week, I saw once again the evidence of how this season is a transitional one.  Within the past 10 days, I heard for the first time this year the following birds: wood thrush, yellow-throated vireo, black-and-white warbler, American redstart, scarlet tanager, and hooded warbler among others.

But also as part of this transition time, Elaine and I ate the last of the frozen blackberries and wineberries, both ending up in two cobblers.  And we ate the last of the venison from deer number four, meaning the meat from six whitetails is left in the freezer.

As I look around our back yard, the North Star cherry is replete with blooms.  The tree is still small but we hope that it can produce several pies and cobblers this year.  And the Dolgo crabapple also shows potential as does the Rome apple tree.

Today, I think I will gather some onions and maybe in a week or two, the asparagus will be ready to pick.

Coyote Attacks Hen Decoy (Bog 186)

Yesterday while hunting spring gobblers in Franklin County, I witnessed something I have heard about but never seen...a coyote attacking a hen decoy.  I had heard two gobblers before dawn and set up near the closer one.

Putting out a decoy, I had made a series of hen yelps and jake kee kees with no response from either of the toms.  Suddenly out of the corner of my left eye, I espied a coyote take a flying leap onto the decoy.  The attack knocked over the stake and the bogus hen collapsed under the weight of the coyote.

Immediately upon landing, however, the coyote realized that the prey was not real and departed in the same direction he had come.  I once observed a red-tailed hawk attack the same Flambeau decoy while on a hunt in Tennessee, but the violence of that attack paled in comparison to this one.

I am undecided on whether or not to use a decoy again this spring.  This is the second time a coyote has come in to the fake bird.

Virginia's Opening Day of Spring Gobbler Season (Blog 185)

Several weeks ago, I told Elaine that I had a feeling that I would kill a gobbler on opening day of the Virginia season.  Well, that feeling turned out to be pathetically wrong as not only did I not tag one on Saturday, I also never even saw one.  Heck, I never even had one answer my hen calls.

Over the years when I have had a feeling that I would do well while hunting or fishing, those feelings have been overwhelmingly correct.  Conversely, many times I  have lacked confidence when going afield, either because of weather conditions or the belief that I did not understand what my quarry was doing. And, overwhelmingly when I had those negative feelings, my day afield has not been successful.

I don't believe that having strong feelings of future success is indicative of cockiness nor do I feel that having negative feelings is indicative of undue pessimism.  In both cases, I believe that it was logical to believe the way I did. I wonder whether I will feel confident or pessimistic when I hunt gobblers before school on Monday morning.

Boss versus Johnny - the rivalry continues (Blog 184)

Today, Saturday, Elaine and I had time to clean the henhouse, so Elaine supervised our four Rhode Island Red chickens (Boss, Johnny, Sweetie Pie, and Baby) as they roamed about the yard while I removed the old straw from the house and replaced it with fresh bedding.

While I was still working on the task, Elaine had to go do some household chore, so I put Johnny, Sweetie Pie, and Baby in the chicken tractor and because Boss refused to go inside, I gathered him up and took him inside the chicken run.

Boss did not care for this turn of events and began pacing back and forth inside the run - which caused him to become increasingly frustrated that he could not see his hens.  Finally, he began what I call angry crowing.  Meanwhile, Johnny was alone with the hens for the first time in his one year of living and seemed to be quite content with this propitious change in his status.

When Boss continued to crow, Johnny began to answer.  I have only heard Johnny crow four times since he first crowed in September and on three of those occasions, Boss pecked him quite hard. But with Boss nowhere in sight, Johnny began to belt out crow after crow.

Finally, the henhouse was cleaned, all chickens were placed inside the run, and the natural order of things was restored.  Johnny's one bright shining moment was over.

Virginia's Spring Gobblers...Fascinating Creatures (Blog 183)

As I anxiously await the start of Virginia's spring gobbler season on April 12, I am spending many pleasurable mornings listening to the toms and hens behind our house.  This week several events took place that simply amazed me.

Tuesday morning was bitter cold with wind chill temperatures in the single digits and with snow falling.  Yet an hour before sunrise, I heard a hen yelping in a tree while I was doing my morning three-mile walk.  When I returned from my ramble, a hen (apparently the same one) was still yacking it up in a tree behind the house, and a gobbler had joined her in greeting the dawn.

The old boy was so close to our back yard that I could feel his "rumblings." Later two more mature males began to sound off, as did our rooster Boss who seemed irritated that other birds were as wound up about sunrise as he was.

Wednesday morning was another cold, blustery day but that did not stem the ardor of our turkeys as more gobbling and yelping was heard.  Thursday morning, though, was clear, calm, and much warmer, yet not a single gobble or yelp was heard.

How does one explain that?

First Gobble of the Spring (Blog 182)

Wednesday morning of this week, the weather was cold, gray, a little breezy, and a chilly rain was softly falling.  It was not the type of morning when I would expect to hear the first gobble of the spring here in the Catawba Creek Valley in Southwest Virginia, but the toms had something else in mind.

I had just let our Rhode Island Reds out of their hen house, and as usual, our alpha male Boss came bursting out the door.  He emitted a crow, a hen some 100 yards behind the house yelped, and a tom gobbled.  Did Boss or the hen set off the gobbler?

It really doesn't matter for a few seconds later, a second tom gobbled and then hens began yelping in response. Thursday morning, the turkeys were once again roosted behind our house, but just hen talk took place.  Then on Friday morning, the woods were silent once more.

The gobbling is not predictable, but this week is the one when the monarchs began to sound off.  I can hardly wait for the Virginia season to begin.

Virginia Muskie Fishing on the James River (Blog 181)

Guide Britt Stoudenmire, who operates New River Outdoors and Southern Muskie Guide Service

(http://www.icanoethenew.com/) held his annual fishing event for his guides and friends this weekend on the James.  I fished with guide Richard Furman ( http://canoevirginia.net/) of Twin River Outfitters in Buchanan.

Throughout the day, Richard and I and struggled to catch smallmouths, never really figuring out where the smallies were holding or what they were feeding on with the bluebird sky conditions prevailing.  But the most interesting aspect of the day was the presence of muskies.

Richard landed a 36-incher (shown below), and I managed to catch a 26-inch fish.

The conventional wisdom states that "muskies are a fish of a thousand casts," but more and more on the James that is not true.  I have fished the James since 1969, have written a book on the waterway (The James River Guide) and live on a tributary of the river.  I have never seen the muskies so abundant in all that time.

I am very curious how the muskie fishing will be this summer.  Meanwhile, anglers can't go wrong by hiring Richard or Britt to take them fishing. 

Spring on the Brink (Blog 180)

This morning during a break from Elaine and I watching Mad Men, which is part of our Sunday morning quiet time, I went out to the henhouse to let down the gangplank. Our alpha rooster Boss sprinted out to the plank and began a paroxysm of non-stop crowing to greet the dawn.

Boss senses, I believe, as do all creatures that spring is on the brink.  We had two snowfalls this past week here in Southwest Virginia, but they weren't "serious snows." After the precipitation stopped, the snow quickly melted and the temporary inclement conditions couldn't stop the wildlife and their spring restiveness. 

Early to mid-March is a transition month for wildlife, as the green up has not quite begun and

winter is not quite over.  I have noticed that the songbirds have commenced singing, not just the usual early singers such as cardinals, Carolina wrens, and mourning doves, but also field sparrows, tufted titmice, and white-breasted nuthatches.

I have yet to hear my first gobble from a wild turkey, but it is just a matter of time.

A Visit to Vintage Virginia Apples (Blog 179)

Elaine and I just spent Friday evening and part of Saturday at Vintage Virginia Apples and Albemarle Cider Works in North Garden, Virginia.  While there on an assignment from Back Home magazine, we were fortunate to discuss heritage apples with Tom Burford, author of the new book Apples of North America, Charlotte Shelton, who along with her family operates Vintage Virginia Apples, and Richard Marini, department head for the department of horticulture at Penn State. 

We have been fans of heritage apples, those varieties that our forefathers grew in the 1600s, 1700s, 1800s, and up until World War II around the country.  Sadly, many of those varieties are no longer present in most of the country.

But those varieties live again in Tom's book and at places like the Shelton's.  We purchased a Black Twig while at the Shelton's and planted it in our backyard as soon as we arrived home Saturday afternoon.  The Black Twig is my favorite apple, it is the best I have ever had for pies and eating out of hand.  In four or five years, we hope to harvest our first apples from the tree.

For more information on Vintage Virginia Apples, www.albemarleciderworks.com.

A Lonely Hermit Thrush (Blog 178)

After some 20 inches of snow, terribly cold weather, and a lack of food in the surrounding forest on our Botetourt County, Virginia land, one would think that our wintering hermit thrush would have enough challenges in his quest to survive the winter.  Elaine and I have watched the hermit thrush flitting about our backyard for much of the winter - seemingly doing as well as could be expected.

But this avian's existence took a nasty turn on Wednesday just as the snow was beginning to melt.  The thrush, inexplicably, became caught in the chicken wire surrounding our coop, and I came across him when I was preparing to let the chickens forage in the backyard after I came home from school.

Not wanting to hurt our yard bird in any way, I gently extricated him from the chicken wire, took a few pictures of him, and then loosened my grip.  The thrush immediately and heartily flew away, seemingly none the worse for the experience.

Our (if I can be so bold to claim him) hermit thrush still has several months left of his sojourn before he heads north to breed.  I hope this was the last of his misadventures.

An Open Letter to my Wife Elaine on a Snowy Thursday (Blog 177)

Hi, sweetheart, I am glad you are away at Quilt Camp because things are a mess here in Botetourt County.  When I awoke and measured the snowfall, we have 15 1/2 inches and the white stuff is still falling.  Fortunately, the netting over the chicken run held and the solar powered fence is intact.

I am putting the feeder inside the henhouse as I don't think Boss, Johnny, Sweetie Pie and Baby will want to venture outside much today.  I cleared out a place around the gang plank and put the waterer there and our quartet seemed quite grateful to take some sips.

I took some photos from around the yard and chicken run to give you an idea of how things are.  Next, I am going to try to remove the snow from the sidewalk and sundeck and also need to stoke the fire.  Thank goodness we had plenty of wood in the garage and I cut and split more after school yesterday.

Stay warm...I love you...Bruce

Snow in the Forecast (Blog 176)

When I came home from school today, Elaine and I checked the forecast and decided to prepare for snow on Saturday.  I cleaned the henhouse while Elaine supervised our five Rhode Island Reds as they browsed their way through the yard.  Our birds don't like snow and we decided they needed some "greens" in their diet to tide them over.

After the henhouse received fresh straw and our birds had their evening out, we then spread lime on our garden, our fruit trees, and the food plot back in the woods.  We figured the snowfall would facilitate the soil's absorption of the lime.  I also brought some more wood into the garage.

We then planned our Saturday activities since we would likely be shut in most of the day.  Tomorrow, Elaine is going to sew, cook up some homemade applesauce and bake a wineberry cobbler.  I am going to start up the wood stove Saturday morning and spend the morning writing.  Saturday afternoon, I will watch my beloved North Carolina Tarheels.  Then Saturday evening, we will play Scrabble and listen to Prairie Home Companion.

Let it snow, we don't care.

Chicken Power (Blog 175)

Elaine and I never cease to marvel at the benefits our five Rhode Island Red chickens provide.  Our three pullets have been producing eggs for about six weeks now, but that is not all that they, Boss, and Johnny provide.

Ever since the garden was put to bed last October, we have turned the chickens out into our vegetable patch to till the ground, consume egg cases and insects, and drop their manure.  I also have put their litter in the garden to further enrich the soil.

But with the arrival of February, it is now time to let them work in our backyard.  Today, for example, we let the chickens graze about in the yard looking for little beasties and consuming various forms of vegetation.  Also, when I cleaned out the henhouse this morning, I spread the litter around our Dolgo crabapple tree, in effect, both mulching and fertilizing it.  Several more fruit trees will receive the same treatment this month.

Tonight we are having scrambled eggs and whole wheat bread for dinner -not a bad way to end a Saturday.