In a Robert Frost State of Mind (Blog 174)

Because of the snow and cold, I have been off from school this entire week and have taken several walks along the seeded logging road that winds across our 38 acres in Botetourt County, Virginia.  Elaine, our daughter Sarah, and grandson Sam have accompanied me on some of these half-hour treks.

But in spirit the American poet Robert Frost has also accompanied me.  When walking along the snow covered lane, I think about the poem "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening," especially the verse "the woods are lovely dark and deep."  Indeed, they are.

Yesterday, Sarah and I strolled the pathway as the sun was beginning to set and the night creatures were preparing to stir.  We came across a trio of whitetail deer that were about ready to enter a neighbor's pasture.  We saw signs of where a fox had rambled through the woods as well as where songbirds had fed, deer had pawed the ground to reach some vegetation, and much, much more.

The sign left by wildlife is always "writ large" upon the landscape if one knows how and where to look.  I enjoy trying to decipher the message that the creatures have left behind.

Wild Turkeys and Tame Chickens (Blog 173)

Every morning after I let our Rhode Island Reds out of their hen house, I pause for several minutes at dawn to listen for turkeys talking to each other on the roost.  Some mornings I hear turkeys and some I don't.

On Friday, I didn't hear any turkeys so I did a few chores, but right before I was to go inside I heard what I thought was a turkey near the chicken run.  Walking to the run, I heard Johnny, our beta cockerel who has had a head cold for several weeks, clucking just like a wild turkey.

To my surprise, turkeys began answering Johnny about 100 yards behind the run. Johnny replied back and a conversation ensued.  Johnny and his voice have not been right since his head cold and the poor boy has had trouble ridding himself of his malady.  I wonder if other folks have heard chickens and turkeys communicating?

Set for the Winter (Blog 172)

Today Elaine and I spent most of the day inside as an icy rain fell for much of this January day.  But sometimes it is good to spend all day inside, warm by the wood stove, and secure in the knowledge that life is good here with someone I love so much, who even on a cold winter day can make me laugh so much throughout the morning and afternoon.

The day before Elaine had cooked wild turkey breast in our Camp Chef cast iron skillet, and the leftovers were just the thing for two lunchtime sandwiches.  Then for dinner, we had omelets, courtesy of our Rhode Island Red hens.  Tomorrow, we might have the remaining turkey in a vegetable soup - a pleasant thing to contemplate.

Tonight, a scrabble game is the horizon, and Elaine has already playfully boasted that she will beat me by more than the 125 points she did on Wednesday evening.  Again, not much happening but it has been a quite satisfying day nevertheless.

My Grandson Sam, Chickens, Coyotes, and Graham Crackers (Blog 171)

Yesterday, I babysat my grandson Sam while Elaine and our daughter Sarah went into Roanoke for the day.  Sam is now nearly 19 months old and I can see the changes in him.  For example, when we were walking down the sidewalk next to our house, I pointed out the chicken run to him, and Sam immediately took off for the henhouse. He would not have been so independent a few months ago.

Back in the summer, I gave Sam some bread to feed the chickens, instead he ate the bread himself.  This time, when I told him to feed the chickens (while I was picking clover to give our birds), Sam gathered up dead leaves and stuffed them through the chicken wire.  Our Rhode Island Reds were eagerly eating the clover I offered and, of course, rejected Sam's dead leaves.  Nevertheless,  a delighted Sam continued to stuff leaves through the wire.

Later, local trapper Gary Guilliams stopped by with three dead coyotes he had caught that morning.  Gary is one of the sources for a coyote story I am writing for Virginia Wildlife, and I had asked him to bring by any song dogs that he caught so that I could take pictures of them for the story.

Sam was thrilled to see the coyotes and wanted to touch them, which I discouraged of course.

But the most interesting thing Sam did all day was tell me that he wanted "crack-ers" as he says.  I gave him some saltines, but he rejected them by more insistently repeating "crack-ers" and going to the pantry door and pointing upward.  It was only after I called Elaine and asked what was it specifically that Sam wanted did my wife tell me that our grandson had developed a fondness for graham crackers. "Why," Elaine said, " would he want saltines when he knows graham crackers are in the house."

Why indeed.

Rhode Island Reds Laying Eggs (Blog 170)

We are thrilled that our heritage Rhode Island Red hens have started laying eggs in the past week.  When we purchased Sweetie Pie, Baby, and Tootsie from Brice Yokum of Sunbird Farms (http://sunbirdfarms.com) last May, he told us that since our hens were heritage birds, they would begin producing eggs later in their young lives than production hens would.  The upside of that, Brice said, is that our hens would produce more consistently and for a longer period of time than industrial hens would.

So during several cold December days of late, we have checked the nesting boxes in the hen house and have been overjoyed that eggs were within.  Already, the eggs have been part of some tasty omelets and other dishes.

Our alpha rooster Boss has also begun mating with our trio of pullets, and we are hoping that this spring, when the girls have become officially hens by the calendar, that at least one of them will become broody. 

But for now, we are quite content with gathering eggs for the table.

Snow Means No Go for Our Rhode Island Reds (Blog 169)

As eight-week-old chickens, our Rhode Island Reds came from Sunbird Farms in California last May, so it is understandable that they seemed a little, well, scared, when they experienced their first snow recently.  Although Rhode Island Reds have a reputation for being cold hardy, our quintet seemed genuinely fearful and perplexed when they awoke to find a dusting of snow covering the chicken run.

Our beta rooster Johnny is usually the most curious of our two rooster and three hen flock, but Johnny took one quick look outside and retreated back into the hen house.  This left matters up to the alpha male Boss ( a solid three inches taller than Johnny and quite a few ounces heavier, too).  All the courage Boss could summon up enabled him to extend his neck outside the doorway (picture below), cluck fretfully, and retreat back inside.

 

After such a display from the males, Sweetie Pie, Baby, and Tootsie did not even peek out of the opening.  All our chickens stayed inside until the weather warmed and the dusting evaporated. 

I Should Have Gone Deer Hunting (Blog 168)

As an avid deer hunter, I pride myself on being prepared, but here it is opening day of Virginia's late muzzleloader season and I am not on my way to the woods as I write this during the pre-dawn hours.
The forecast was for freezing rain/sleet/snow so I decided not to contact any of the Roanoke or Franklin County landowners where I have permission to hunt.

But upon awakening this morning, I found that the forecast has been changed and the precipitation will not begin until 11:00 A.M. Of course, I could go hunting here in Botetourt County (even on my own land behind the house) but it is the bucks only part of the season here.  The odds of my seeing a mature buck this morning behind my house are astronomical, especially since I have not observed a "shooter" here in probably close to eight years or maybe longer.

So here I sit frustrated.  I am sure the deer movement will be intense this morning as the storm front continues to approach.  I am silently promising myself not to be in this position again.

Walking with Elaine across Our Land (Blog 167)

This afternoon, Elaine and I took a walk around the perimeter of our 38 wooded acres on the seeded logging road that I designed three years ago when our dying Virginia pines were cut.  The trail loops from one end of our land to the other and perhaps covers a little less than half a mile.

Those folks who don't live in the country may not understand how pleasurable it is to just walk through your own woods.  We stopped often to look at individual trees and their progress, noted some oak trees that we had planted and how they were coming along, stopped one time when we heard a flock of turkeys about a hundred yards away, and checked on a crabapple tree that we had planted in a food plot.

I was especially pleased with the food plot and its progress since I replanted and revitalized it back in late summer.  Now, the plot supports lush growth - a good thing for wildlife as precious little hard and soft mast exists on our land and the surrounding mountainside.

After we finished walking the loop, we stopped by our chicken run and gave our Rhode Island Reds pieces of bread when they rushed out to greet us.  Nothing extraordinary happened on our way - some would say - but the richness of the experience - to us - brought

great joy.

A Freezer Full of Venison, A Long, Tall Woodpile (Blog 166)

Virginia's general firearms season ended yesterday with only the late bow and muzzleloader seasons to come in December and early January.  I have hunted a great deal and am exhausted from the season, which started on September 7 with the Urban Archery one.  I have killed 10 deer in Virginia and West Virginia, plus two Old Dominion fall turkeys so Elaine and I should have enough meat for 2014. We don't buy meat from supermarkets except for the occasional organic chicken.

I have long believed that the secret to killing deer is no secret, that just going and going afield is the way to be successful.  I went deer hunting 41 times to kill those 10 whitetails - a terrible success percentage in any kind of sport, game, or pastime.  I never saw a buck worth shooting, as the biggest one I espied all fall was a 2 1/2-year-old 6 pointer that I actually encountered when I was turkey hunting.  Yet, I don't mind my lack of success in locating a trophy buck.  Despite the constant drumbeat of big buck stories in the outdoor magazines I write for, I believe that most deer hunters are like me - that is, being thrilled when they kill a doe.

Our woodpile is also "long and tall," so Elaine and I are in good shape in that department, too.  My plans for December are to take other folks deer and turkey hunting and for me to try to kill a doe during the late muzzleloader season.  I also need to start work on some habitat improvement projects behind the house.  All in all, I look forward to being outside in December, especially during the holidays.

The Amazing Sense of Smell of a Whitetail Deer (Blog 165)

Saturday afternoon, fellow school teacher Doak Harbison and I went deer hunting in Botetourt County.  We were afield in a blind that features an expansive field to the south and another field to the north of the blind.  To the west lies a bedding area and to the east a hedgerow.

The wind was coming out of the east and about 5:00 P.M., we saw a mature doe leaving the bedding area and heading toward us.  But at a distance of about 125 yards, the doe began acting extremely nervously and then began staring at our blind.

The doe's agitation continued for well over a minute when she seemed to settle down and resumed her course toward us.  She did so, we believed, because the wind temporarily died down at that moment.

But soon the wind increased to what it had been - about 15 mph -, the doe immediately stopped, resumed staring at the blind, then suddenly turned and fled.

I have observed the keen sense of smell of a whitetail many times before - and will no likely witness it again.  We hunters can cover ourselves with various scent prevention concoctions, but when the wind is not in our favor, I would speculate that most of the time our chances for success are doomed.

Opening Day of Virginia's Firearms Deer Season (Blog 164)

Saturday was opening day of Virginia's firearms deer season, so I took my son Mark deer hunting on one of our properties in Craig County.  While discussing where to place my son so he would be safe and have a good chance to kill a deer, I positioned him high on a ridge. 

But walking away from him, I suddenly decided to move him further down the ridge, which I did.  Then I went to my ladder stand where I had planned to hunt from.  But I decided to hunt from the ground about 15 yards in front of the stand.

Both decisions turned out to cost us both deer.  For at 8:15, two deer walked under the stand and would have presented an extremely easy shot.  Instead, the whitetails spotted me, snorted, and fled.

Meanwhile around 9:30.  a deer walked in front of Mark, but he was too low on the ridge to see the deer clearly, which was also behind brush.  Before we went hunting, I told Mark that we had a 60% chance of killing one deer between us and a 25% of us both tagging one.

Instead because of my indecisiveness, we both went home empty handed.

A Lone Hermit Thrush and Deer Hunting in Virginia's Mountains (Blog 163)

The other day while I was high in a tree stand and bow hunting for deer in Virginia's mountains, a hermit thrush flew by, perched near me, and broke into song.  Hermit thrushes, close relatives to robins and bluebirds which live in Southwest Virginia year round, are fall and winter visitors to this part of the state.

I have uncommonly heard them sing in November and this lone bird's (is this why they have the appellation hermit in their name) willingness to warble his whistling, flute-like melody was most welcome on a day when I did not espy any whitetails.

For this blog, I have written a number of times about how much I enjoy combining bird watching with fishing and hunting.  Not long after the hermit thrush sang his melody, a lone white-throated sparrow likewise felt the need to do so.  For a moment, it was not mid November but a pleasant spring day. 

Most of the time in the fall and winter, I only hear two birds commonly sing: cardinals and Carolina wrens, the latter which, I am convinced, would belt out his "tea kettle" song during a blizzard if he so felt the need.  This is just one of many reasons why this wren is my favorite songbird and my second favorite bird overall behind only the wild turkey.

Boss and Johnny: Cockerels in Conflict? (Blog 162)

Elaine's and my decision to keep both of our seven-month-old cockerels in our chicken run is proving fascinating to watch.  When Boss crowed for the first time on September 11, we were very curious when Johnny would start.  Johnny first crowed on October 2 and when he did so, Boss immediately chased after him and pecked him hard on the back of the neck.

Johnny did not crow again for several days and this time when he did so, Boss once more chased after him.  Johnny quickly ran away to avoid a pecking, but he has not crowed since nor has he shown any interest in doing so.

Boss is a solid three inches taller than Johnny and is also much more "filled out" in appearance.  Boss crows every morning, but he has yet to master the full "cock-a-doodle-do." The crow is more of a "cock-a-doo" then there is sort of an "after shock" and almost a grumbling sound is emitted.

Boss also has to flap a great deal to send forth his gobbles.  In short, he has not mastered the art of crowing yet.  But two things are definitely certain:  Boss does not take kindly to Johnny asserting his masculinity, and the former definitely rules the chicken run.

Opening Day of Virginia's Fall Turkey Season (Blog 161)

Today was opening day of Virginia's fall turkey season and is my custom I headed for a Franklin County farm where I often go to pursue these big game birds.  As I have written many times, I enjoy bird watching while hunting, and today was no exception.

One of the neatest birds I observed today was a golden-crowned kinglet that flitted by my position.  Soon afterwards, two more kinglets arrived and I was entertained by their "tinkling" chatter.  Another high point was three crows flying into my position as I was emitting turkey sounds.  No doubt, the crows were lured in by the turkey yelps I had emitted, as the trio probably flew in to harass the turkey they were sure was there.  When the crows saw my camouflaged form shift slightly, they flew away, rancorously protesting.

Later, I saw a phoebe fly by and then perch on a limb.  Phoebes now sometimes spend the winter in my area, something that used not to happen, at least from my experience.

Oh, a little while later, I did call in and kill a turkey -one of many highpoints of a day in the autumn woods

Fawn with Spots Observed (Blog 160)

One of the most interesting things I have seen this week while deer hunting after school was a fawn with spots.  Also of note was the fact that the deer still had its reddish summer coat.

Very little hard mast in the form of acorns exists in the Virginia and West Virginia woods where I have been afield and such staples as wild grapes and persimmons also seem to be lacking in the places where I have been as well.

Given the lack of food, I really wonder if this fawn has much of a chance of survival.  I observed it twice this week, once when it was alone and the second time when it was with a matriarchal doe unit.  Being part of such a group should certainly help the whitetail's chances of living through the winter.

On the other hand, Mother Nature is a notoriously cruel mistress, and a cold winter alone could spell doom for the fawn, let alone predators and a scarcity of food.

A Morning on Deer Stand (Blog 159)

Tuesday, I killed a doe while bowhunting after school, but, by far, the most interesting day afield was Wednesday morning when I was able  to hunt until 10:00 A.M (school didn't start until 12:30 because of a conference day). That's because of the interesting things I was able to see.

For example, on that day I spent the morning on one of our properties in Craig County, Virginia.  I had never seen any grouse on this land but one flew by my stand around 8:00 A.M.  The ruff's appearance was likely made more likely by the clearcuts I have had done in 2009 and earlier this year.

Later, I observed three young red-tailed hawks in the clearcut below my stand.  They spent the morning chasing each other - for all the world it looked like they were playing some form of aerial tag.  The trio also periodically attacked gray squirrels, but they did not seem to have any luck in their hunting.  The gray squirrels were extremely agitated about the non-stop bombardments and chattered angrily all morning.

I was hoping to see or hear some early migratory birds such as kinglets or juncos, but none appeared.  I did note that the grackles flocked together in massive numbers and apparently have left the area.  Fall mornings on deer stand are often fascinating.

Opening Day of Virginia's Bow Season (Blog 158)

Although I had been bowhunting for four weeks during Virginia's urban archery season, there was still great anticipation in going hunting in Craig County this morning for the start of the regular archery season.

At 8:20, I saw my first deer, but the doe was 60 yards away and heading away from me.  But a few minutes later, I spotted four does and they were all heading toward me.  I began to breathe harder, positioned myself for the shot, and waited for them to arrive.  However, when they quartet moved to within 50 yards, they stopped coming and even bedded down.

And there they remained until 6:20 when one doe arose and headed away from me.  Where the other three went, I have no idea.  I had meant to go back to my XTerra for lunch, but I decided that doing so would spook the bedded whitetails.

So, counting the time I spent on stand in the dark, I ended up being in a tree stand today for 13 hours and 15 minutes and never came close to shooting at a deer.  Such is bowhunting sometimes.

Picking Paw Paws on a Sunday Afternoon in the Virginia Mountains (Blog 157)

 

Last Sunday, I spent part of the day roaming through the woods with my daughter Sarah and son Mark.  We first looked for a place to me to hang a tree stand after locating acorns on a mountain flat, but the main event was still to come.

Our main reason for taking to the mountains together was to pick paw paws, a native fruit that ripens in mid to late September.  Paw paws taste a little like bananas, some folks even call them mountain bananas.  But it is at this time of year that paw paws begin to turn brown from green meaning they are starting to reach their peak of flavor.

Paw paws are so prized by wildlife, such as deer, bear, turkeys, squirrels, and many songbirds, that if we wait until they are fully ripe and have fallen to the ground, they simply won’t be around to gather.  That’s why I like to go paw pawing when the fruits are just starting to turn.

Sarah, Mark, and I managed to pick a half bucket or so of paw paws, not a big haul certainly.  But once they fully ripen, and we can gather some walnuts, we will have the makings for a real taste sensation: Paw Paw and Walnut Bread.

Sitting in a Tree Stand, Listening to Night Sounds (Blog 156)

With the goal of not spooking any deer, I arrived at my Roanoke County, Virginia tree stand during the state's urban archery season extra early this morning.  A heavy fog caused me to drive slowly to the property, but I still managed to arrive about an hour before sunrise.  Not long after arriving, I sat through a performance of a variety of creatures.

Just minutes after I had settled into the stand, I heard a rustling of leaves and feared that a whitetail had already shown up.  But the source was a squirrel that had decided to begin its nut cracking extra early.  Next was a barred owl which began to belt out "who cooks for you, waaaaah" for my pleasure.

I then expected to hear a great-horned owl or perhaps a screech owl to lend their voices, but that did not happen.  Instead a killdeer made its trademark sound, giving this avian the title of the second species to greet the morn.

As daybreak grew closer, more birds began to join in: pileated woodpeckers, blue jays, white-breasted nuthatches, and, of course, crows and ravens.  Later, Carolina chickadees, Carolina wrens, red-bellied woodpeckers, and downy woodpeckers announced that they too were awake.

Interestingly, I did hear a screech owl but it was not until 9:00 A.M. And I did not see but one deer all morning and that one at 9:18 and some 100 yards away.  The deer hunting was poor, but the birding, as it is most days, was interesting.

The Boss Crows (Blog 155)

Bruce Springsteen may be called "The Boss," but in our backyard, he who goes by that name is our  5 1/2-month-old cockerel, Boss.  And at no time since our five heritage Rhode Island Reds (Boss, Johnny, Sweetie Pie, Baby, and Tootsie) arrived last May was this so apparent as it was Wednesday morning when Boss crowed for the first time.

As is his wont, Boss was the first one out of the henhouse, and as I was watching, I noted that he seemed more virile, I guess is the word.  He shook himself, stretched his neck, then emitted a screechy, quarter formed crow with no ending whatsoever.

"Elaine, Elaine," I yelled, and she quickly came running from the house.
"Boss just crowed for the first time, did you hear?"
"No," said Elaine.
But as if on cue, Boss sent forth three more crows, all as weak, poorly formed, and truncated as the first one.
But crows they were as our young cockerel is on his way to being a rooster.  I am so proud of my boy.