What are those moose antlers made of anyhow?

Looking for dropped moose antlers (sheds) is one of our favorite pastimes during the long snowy winters in Maine. We guide many clients on snowshoes, and track moose or venture into moose wintering areas. Most times we'll begin here at camp, and warm up with coffee and cocoa before gearing up to head into the forest. Once on the trail, we begin by looking for fresh moose tracks, and let the moose lead the way. As we follow, I unravel the story of what tracks we're seeing, and anything else interesting along the way. We've seen bobcats, deer, moose, and all sorts of other wildlife and tracks. During one of these trips, we stopped along the edge of a dense fir stand for lunch which fittingly consisted of moose stew, rolls and coffee, warmed over a small twig fire.

As we ate our lunch I hushed the two folks with me, a husband and wife, and said "Do you hear that? (!) I motioned with my hand to keep quiet, and they listened. After about 30 seconds, David said, "Hear what?" I looked at them and said...."Nothing. Absolutely nothing....." "Kind of cool huh?" The look on their faces was that of shock and bewilderment, because as we trudged along, listening to the crunch  and squeak of the snow. (Snow squeaks louder the colder it gets!) we were further and further into the back country and distant of all discernible noise. Even the birds were absent this day. Dave and his wife Charlene for the first time experienced true solitude. They were from the Keys of Florida, and both agreed that they can never get away from noise at home, cars, people, and even waves make up the background static of everyday life.

A week later I guided several college girls and their moms as a girls day out. We actually set out on the same path looking for wildlife and hoped to find a moose shed. The week before we found that the moose still had antlers intact, so we were hopeful we'd find one this trip. We enjoyed a fun day on the mountain, and between the laughing and photos, the crew really seemed to have a great day. No sheds were found during the hike. We did see evidence where bulls had rubbed trees with their antlers, still intact. We returned after about 4 hours to a warm cabin, and enjoyed fresh banana bread and cocoa by the fire. My wife Dee makes the best banana bread! We chatted for a while and the women replayed the adventure to my wife. As they talked, I went out to the shed and returned with two large antlers found the year before. I wanted to show them first hand what they looked like and the women were very curious about them.

I flipped the largest antler over to point out the unique patterns in the bone and one of the women said "These are absolutely beautiful! What kind of wood are they made out of?" I quickly replied, "Usually Mahogany, but sometimes Oak." She thought about it for a second and looked at me and said "Did I actually just ask that?" Her friends got a good laugh, but then collectively asked "No, really, What are they made of?" Never assume anything.... We relaxed in the warmth of the wood stove as we watched the snow melt from our boots and enjoyed another great day in the Maine woods...

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!

We received a foot of fresh powder today, covering the forest with a fresh blanket of white. Usually we have snow from mid November through April, and sometimes into May. Some complain, some rejoice, and some just keep shoveling. In Western Maine most people enjoy the snow's recreational value: skiing, snowmobiling, and snowshoeing are so much easier and more enjoyable with snow on the ground! Soon we'll be tracking deer and moose looking for shed antlers. This is one of our favorite winter adventures, especially with young folks.

With the snow comes the beginning of our trail building. A trail to the basement door, one to the cabin, one to the chicken coop, the pigpen, and several leading to the large woodpile. If you don't plan well, you're condemned to wading thru deep snow drifts each time you fetch firewood, or travel to the other various parts that make up our home, or what we call "Camp." Firewood is a daily chore here, as that is our only source of heat. If we don't feed the stove, we don't stay warm, period.With that comes a lot of planning. If we'll be gone long, we load the stove up good with hardwood. If we're home all day, we just keep it going enough to stay comfortable. Luckily the house heats up quickly. George Carlin once said "Trees...first you chop 'em down, then you chop 'em up!" That's exactly true, and luckily we have a large sustaining woodlot that we get our wood from. We cut about 8 cords a year, or at least we should. A few winters ago the legs on our kitchen table got shorter and anything made of wood including old furniture, a bird house and many old pallets found their way into the stove. I discovered that Lincoln Logs make good kindling in a pinch! Finally, we seem to be on track and usually have wood put up ahead of time. I truly enjoy cutting it, stacking it, and burning it.

I had an uncle that lived in Fryburg, ME. He was the quintessential woodsman, complete with the red and black plaid wool coat. Uncle Clint would take to the woods with his ax, and if he broke the handle, he would return to the woodshed, take out a piece of White Ash, and cut, carve, and fit a new ax handle. Within an hour or two he was back in business. He once told me that each piece of wood warms him up 6 times. Once when he fells the tree and bucks up the logs, another when he splits each log. Another time when he pitches each stick into the truck of trailer, and then again when he removes it and stacks it in the woodpile. A fifth time when firewood is brought into the house, and finally one last time when it's actually burned.

It certainly would be easier if we were able to simply turn the dial on a thermostat to 68 and let the fuel burning furnace or electric heat magically come on, but that would be easy, and I don't do anything easy! Our driveway is nicknamed "The Hard Way." We live up to that. Everything I've ever done has been the hard way.....

As I sit here, with coffee in hand, I look back at another great season of guiding bear, moose, and deer hunters. Today's the last day of Muzzleloader season in Maine. That's it folks! Clean the rifle, wipe down the old smoke pole, and start thinking about (gulp!) Christmas. Only a week and a half away and as usual, we're unprepared. Days, evenings, weeks and weekends have been spent guiding folks in the woods, moving tree stands, tracking, scouting, and taking care of equipment. There's a few more dents in the truck, mud and blood on my boots,  a full freezer, and a few scars.

During this season we saw a young boy named Dylan harvest his first black bear, my son Gunner and wife Deirdre both shot their first whitetail, and I had the pleasure of hunting with some amazing people. During deer season I guided  father and son, father being that of 88 years, and his son in his 60's. To have this opportunity is why we do what we do. The bond between father and son, the stories around the campfire, and the cold mornings walking to the stand on what just may be there last hunt together is sacred. He didn't get his deer. It didn't matter. The hours spent side by side, mostly in silence as they watched for that Maine buck to walk on by was the reason they came.

Upon our clients leaving, I had an opportunity to hunt with my sons, my wife, and even my daughters. I too spent many hours in the stand or ground blind with people I love in search of the same thing, time together. Our freezer has never been empty and the spirit of the forest has been good to us, but it is not the blood we seek to shed, but the blood we seek to share. The bond is more than tradition or a rite of passage. It's instinct to hunt, yet also instinct to stay connected.

OK, too deep for a first post! Let's talk about Dylan's bear!

Bear season 2013 began with a high level of enthusiasm, as usual! We added a new member to the family this year, and Aubree Suzanne has been “christened” at Bear Camp!

On Sunday, August 25^th. We hosted Bill McCoy, Don Rice, Doug and Dylan Smith, Sean Dougherty, and Dan Watson. Dinner was a welcoming event, where we met new folks, and saw returning clients, now friends at our table. Dee and I look forward to the beginning of the season, as does the rest of the crew.

This season we anticipated a slow start due to the overwhelming availability of natural food sources such as berries, apples, cherries, and other thing growing, fruiting, and essentially hindering my ability to pattern big bears. The weather also did not cooperate as we saw high humidity and wind, and rain and thunderstorms throughout the first week. The hunters each did their part, and they worked hard at being in position for the “moment.”

Doug and Dylan saw bears almost every evening, yet a small bear was the frequent visitor. Dylan, age 11 watched in excitement each time he came in and he never once blew his cover or got busted. Each time I walked them into their stand they were excited to head back into the woods, and each evening, usually well after dark, I'd return to find both father and son smiling. "We had a great hunt today!" dad would say, or Dylan would start with a run down of all of the wildlife that graced his spot, usually red squirrels. 

Finally, on Friday evening, his bear was harvested after a long patient wait all week, and Dylan couldn’t have been happier! His smile said it all, and we were on the map for 2013. Doug is a good dad. He has amazing patience and is a role model. This hunt meant a lot to both he and his son.

The most amazing part of the entire week happened on the day after Dylan made his shot. We were at the cabin, in between the morning and evening hunts. Our hunters were wrapping up lunch or moose burgers and potato salad, and I looked aver at the game pole where Dylan's bear hung proudly. There, my 10 year old son Orion and his friend (also Dylan) listened intently on young Dylan's recount of the bear hunt and how he made the shot. Both young boys shook his hand and Orion patted him on the back and said "Nice work!" (A quote he hears me say often!) The respect and camaraderie of these young hunters was in the forming stages, and the instilled respect for the sport was beautiful. Dylan took away a cooler full of meat, what we call "Western Maine Protein," a hide for his taxidermist to make a rug for his room, and young memories of the experience. He'll look back on the time he spent with his dad, with other adult hunters, and new friends. We too took something away from this experience, more than most would assume.....

My first entry...please be kind!

So much to write, so much to do. I hope to finally get it all down.... After spending so much time getting this set up tonight, I think I'll post tomorrow...