TBT, New Brunswick

     About 10 years ago I had the pleasure of spending a week bear hunting with Three Brooks Outfitters in New Brunswick. While I didn't end up with the monster, or even the 15 lb bear, I had a great time learning about bears and bear baiting. I recently found a few pics of some of the New Brunswick trophies hanging in the camp.

No Ordinary Challenge; The MacNab

     Sportsmen and women around the globe take to the fields and streams for a variety of reasons. There is a lot of satisfaction in dedicating the time, and commitment needed to meeting the challenge, and bringing home a hard earned meal. In some corners of the world the challenge of taking game is not enough, and a select few of a particularly sporting nature venture out seeking ways to make their time in the outdoors demanding. For some this additional demand is only satisfied by achieving a MacNab.

     The MacNab is a sporting trifecta of sorts. In the UK there is the Highland MacNab, where a person bags a stag, a brace of grouse, and lands a salmon, all on the same day. I've also read accounts of  what is called a Summer MacNab, which involve bagging a Roe buck, a wood pigeon, and landing a sea-run rainbow trout. These sound like fine challenges, indeed. I'd be happy with just a brace of grouse, and doubt my system could handle completing a MacNab.

     Here in New England we too, have a MacNab, but few have heard of it, and even few have completed it. The New England MacNab is shooting a whitetail buck, a brace of ruffed grouse, and landing a brook trout. Unlike the UK where season greatly overlap each other, the chance of ever completing a MacNab in the US is slim; our season only slightly over lap. In most of New England Trout season closes shortly after grouse season opens, and the deer season during that time period usually restricts hunters to archery equipment, not fire arms. Even if you did manage to take your buck, early season grouse hunting is often challenging, grouse heard but not seen through the thick canopy of leaves. Of course some states make it impossible. In Connecticut, for example, there is a robust deer herd, and some fantastic trout waters. I have no doubt that a sportsman could take a buck in the morning, then land a brook trout by lunch, but the grouse would pose a problem. While grouse can be found in Ct the numbers are small enough that the state only allows hunters to take 1 a day. So much for the MacNab.

     There are other challenges, too. In Maine you are recognized if you bag a deer, bear, moose, and a turkey (maybe coyote is included, too) in one season. That is a feat, and requires dedication. As a grouse hunter I enjoy shooting a mixed bag. While I've enjoyed a few heavy game bags in my time I've never had the pleasure of taking grouse, woodcock, and hares all in the same outing. I've had plenty of grouse/woodcock, woodcock/hare, and hare/grouse days, but never the trifecta. And while I always carry a separate supply of non-toxic ammo in the car, ready to switch our if I see ducks sitting in the rivers when driving around, I've yet to have the chance to mix fowl with upland species. Perhaps this will be the year I add an additional species to the game bag. No. Not the same wow factor as the MacNab, but not a bad goal, either.

Images Of Success; Deer Hunting

     The deer season has been open, in one form or another, across the country (and in others) for some time. I have yet to tip one over, but I have recieved some photos of the success others have had. I thought I'd share, so here they are.

Tommy with an 8 pointer.

Mich (in Japan) with his first deer.

Bruce (on the right) with the Nantucket wind chimes.

Mike with a fine NC buck. Mike was featured with his spring bear earlier this year.

Santa scored this year, too.



Nostalgia

     I've been told by several friends, as I've discarded belongings of little perceived value, that I'm not a sentimental guy. My friends would readily snatch up things from our past that should have held some sentimental meanings, but had just become clutter. Perhaps there's some truth in the statement; I do tend to value practicality, and efficiency. But I'm not immune to the concept totally.

     The wife and I spent this past weekend in the Berkshires. She'd received a voucher for concert tickets as a bonus at work, and we were overdue for a long weekend get-a-way, so we were off to Tanglewood. Naturally, catering to the wife's whims for the weekend would allow me a little outdoor indulgence. I just couldn't let her know prior to our departure that I'd already calculated the price of my niceness. So on day two, as we drove around exploring I mentioned an old friend, Mac, just south of the Mass border that I'd not seen in some time, my father and I used to hunt Mac's farm, and I'd like to pay a quick visit. Sounded innocuous enough to be quickly agreed to, and a plan was set; Monday morning we'd drive down to visit Mac on his farm before having lunch in Great Barrington, and heading home.

     The ride south on Sunday quite definitely filled me a sense of nostalgia. The farm looked as it had the last time I was there, practically unchanged in ten years. Following the same pattern I had in the years when I hunted Mac's farm, I drove to the barn where Mac would often be found. The barn, however, held no sign of my friend, though clearly someone had recently been there, a wagon full of hay halfway backed into the barn. As I prepared to drive the 1/2 mile to the house I was greeted by a middle-aged gentleman who appeared himself to also be a farmer. Explaining that I was looking for Mac, I was informed that Mac had retired some years back, and was seldom at the barn anymore. I was somewhat surprised to hear of Mac's retirement. I hadn't ever thought of it, expecting some how that things would remain the same.

     At the house we were happily greeted by Mac, and his wife Linda. At 75 Mac had changed little. He looked older, but 10 years had passed since I'd last seen him, so it only stood to reason. The Mac I remembered had always kept a well trimmed beard, of a slightly reddish hue, and was never without a hat, but on this day he was shaved clean, and without a hat. He looked sharp in a tattersall, and work pants devoid of the usual stains one would expect to collect working livestock.

     Mac wasted no time filled me in on state of affairs in the woodlands that surrounded the farm. Seated in front of a laptop, Mac pulled up file after file of trail cam pictures; wide racked bucks in velvet, big coyotes, bobcats, and bears. Over the years a sow had taken up residence in the swamp below. Her and her two cubs were showing up regularly on trail cams, and a member of the family had to abandon his hunting plans one evening when her and her cubs were camped out under his treestand. But the real surprise came when he showed me this.

      Have you seen this photo before? I had. In fact, this photo had been e-mailed to me by a friend after he'd seen it circulating the Internet. Turns out this photo which was in a file on Mac's computer along with several others taken at different angles, had been published in a magazine, and online was taken on the farm. One of the pictures showed land features which I immediately recognized, and when I inquired, Mac confirmed that the picture was indeed taken where I thought it had, and that I had good recollection of the property. Turns out that over the years I'd hung treestands within 100 yards in either direction of the treestand in the picture. I'd even arrowed a decent 5 pointer, my first buck,  in that same wood lot back in '98.

 

     While every sportsman sees things that measure somewhere on the amazing scale every time they're in the outdoors, I'd found it amazing that I'd been so intimate with a small section of woodlands that has in some way found it's way into the limelight.


     Visiting Mac, and seeing the farm again was quite nostalgic. It's stirred in me, at least temporarily, a desire to get in some serious deer hunting, too. It was enjoyable catching up with someone who's generosity will never be forgotten, and  without a doubt I will return with offerings, as my father and I always did when we hunted the farm nearly 15 years ago. My only regret is not having had enough time to stick around long enough to enjoy a dram of single malt with Mac while listening to him play his bagpipes on the porch. Next time. I'll bring the Scotch.

Door Mat, or Guardian

A friend sent me this picture. Thought I'd share it.