Action Alert: Tainted Dog Treats

     Attention dog owners. It has come to my attention that the FDA has issued a warning about jerky type dog treats. There is a mysterious illness associated with the dog treats, and several hundred dogs have died as a result. Please keep your dog away from any jerky type treats, like Waggin Train, which has issued a voluntary recall.
 Link to recall
Link to news report

 



Grouse Camp 2013

     There are many ways in life to define success, just like there are many ways in grouse camp to define success. Many define success in the grouse woods purely by how many grouse they take home at the end of the day. I don't disagree, but find success in the grouse woods to be about so much more, especially when you're at camp. And this year, Grouse Camp 2013 was a success on so many levels.

     Camp started out on a bit of a low note; BK had made plans for his father to join us for the week. It would have been not only his first grouse camp, but his first grouse hunt, and first days in the uplands. It wasn't to be. An unfortunate, and impossible to live down error in vacation planning had BK and I driving to camp while BK's father prepared his gear for the camp (our camp) which he had thought was next week. He'd mistakenly marked his calendar, and scheduled his vacation a week late. We'd sally forth without him, and I suspect next year he'll make up for his lost season. I'm planning now to spend extra time on the clay course, as I'm sure he's doing now.

 

 

      Arriving we found the camp and the beautiful view to be how we've grown to expect them; rugged, and welcoming. The weather, however, was not helping our cause. It was warm, and wet. rain fell every night, and even dampened us a bit during the day once or twice. The temperature, too, was discomforting, hovering in the hi 50's to low 60's, we sweated it out, and the dogs were watered often. The lack of a hard, killing frost meant the understory was still quite green, despite most of the leaves being down. Green down low means tough scenting conditions, but they never really became an issue.



 

     Bird numbers were reported to be down, but we found that to just not be true. Sure, they weren't as thick as last year, but there was certainly no shortage of grouse. Woodcock, on the other hand, though we did find some, were much thinner. Remember those temps I told you about in the last paragraph? Well, it would seem that with out the ground freezing hard up north, the woodcock haven't any reason to travel south. And they hadn't. In the end, we averaged about one grouse flush every 20 minute, as compared to the one flush every 15 minute we experience last year. Of course, that's an average. Some coverts were hot, and others required we walk a bit further between birds. The wettest mornings seemed to be the best; one morning showing us 13 grouse before noon, and another showing us 16 grouse and 15 woodcock before noon. With camp being about so much more than just killing grouse, we seldom hunted in the afternoons, opting for 9-12/1ish days, with an occasional end of day 30-60minute hunt. In total we hunted roughly 18 hours, and I was party to 56 grouse flushes, and 24 woodcock flushes. And yes, BK and I each killed a few birds. They were delicious.



 

**Photos 1,2,7,8,9 by BK



Get Lost

     Over the years I've made many changes to how I do things. A lot of time wearing out boot leather is a great way to get first hand experience that opens ones eyes, and gives inspiration to try other methods and things. Sometimes the simple suggestions buried in the pages of an outdoors magazine strike that nerve, and add up to a progressive change. Whatever it is, if we're still doing it, it must have worked.

     One thing I remember reading several times over the years was that the majority of sportsmen seldom travel more than 1/4 mile into the woods from the road. Seems natural actually; travelling in the woods is harder than on a sidewalk or road leading people to think they're deeper in than they probably thought. Coupled with the practical mind thinking about the effort it takes to drag a deer out, how the effort compounds in the dark, and the ingrained desire to not get lost, it's easy to see why the darkest corners of the forest seldom see sports. Not getting lost, and what to do if (when) you get lost has become an industry here, too. Television shows highlighting survival tips are on almost daily, and the celebrity like status of the hosts has them hocking their wares must have survival knives, at every camping outlet. The electronics world has changed the landscape more than anything. One can venture afield knowing exactly where they are, with a device that not only tells them where to go, but also whose land they are crossing, the terrain ahead, and the moon phase. Soon, I expect there will be a GPS with a stock ticker connected to online trading.

     But don't mistake this as a GPS rant, it's not. I very much like GPS, and use one almost every time I'm in the woods. I use my GPS so frequently that I've got a battery recharger, and several pair of spares ready to go, changing out every morning. Sure, I wish I was more of a natural outdoors man, with a mind for remembering the features of the land, and an internal compass. I don't, so GPS has become my friend, and has led me to a change in how I do things.

 

     What is it I do differently, that I didn't do before? Well, after years of not trying to get lost in the woods, I now just just head into the woods, and essentially get lost. Of course I'm not getting lost in the sense of not knowing how to get out, but in the sense that I just go where the cover leads me. Heading in I have no idea where I'll be when I decide to return, so I've no idea how to get back. Marking my starting position on my GPS allows me that freedom, and gives me a heading back to that point when the time comes. This practice routinely puts me a mile or more from my starting point, and I seldom see another sport when I'm in that deep. This tactic, should the cover be right, also puts me into game that doesn't get disturbed by sport or dog as often. While I use my GPS most often for grouse hunting, it has been useful on the few occasions when I've attempted to track deer in the snow. The wood lot where I deer hunt is pretty small, so its never a long walk out, but knowing exactly where I was allowed me to get to one of the trails in our network, and get out more easily.

     There are a couple of preparations to be made before venturing forth this way. The first is mental; you can't be scared to just go, trusting your GPS to get you out. This is probably the most difficult hurdle to over come, but a little practice with your GPS in familiar surroundings will help you establish trust in the machine. The second is to make sure you have a back up method of navigation should your GPS malfunction, or you leave it on the roof of your car (like I did) after setting it down to put on your gloves. Knowing what direction you are headed when you leave the road, and the general heading of the road will provide you with a direction to head (in the most general sense) to get out of the woods.

     Whatever species of game you hunt, getting away from the crowd will benefit you. Now, go get lost.

    

Larry Benoit, 1924-2013, R.I.P.

     Iconic Vermont deer hunter and author Larry Benoit passed away Monday after a prolonged battle with cancer. I think you'd be hard pressed to find a deer hunter who doesn't know of Larry and his legacy. In 1975 Larry wrote the book, How To Bag The Biggest Buck of Your Life, and changed the way many Americans hunt deer.

 

     Larry's deer hunting legacy is being carried on by his sons, Lanny, Lane, and Shane, who all are proficient deer trackers, and also have published several books on the subject, as well as videos.

Shut Downs, Melt Downs, and Secrets

  Shut Down/ Melt Down
 The recent government shut down has created quite a buzz in the sporting communities. Across the country many hunter, and anglers are wondering if they'll be shut out of their favorite spots just because it happens to be federal public land. And in case you're wondering, many of the closures seem to be happening just because it is federal public land. It seems that in the infinite wisdom of our leaders that federal lands should be closed whether those lands have been manned by a federal employee or not. Yes, you are reading this correctly; The feds have closed areas where we've never seen a fed before, areas where we've never needed the assistance of a fed before. In fact, I'd be willing to bet that the effort they went through to chain up, hang signs, and erect gates cost more than what it would have cost to just keep the areas opened, and operating at the same level as the pre-shut down melt down. Hence, I am declaring this not a shut down, an operation which when done orderly usually makes sense to those around it, but rather a melt down. A melt down, as in when a child or an unstable person reaches their upper most stress level, and start doing things that make no sense in an effort to reduce said stress.

     Fortunately, The nature of those most prone to spend a lot of time in nature is independence. Many sportsmen, without meaning to making them sound radical, really have no need for government assistance in their sporting endeavors. We've all landed nice fish, hiked scenic vistas, tracked deer, and stargazed without the government holding our hand. This is where the government needs to pay attention. Sure, we appreciate the laws, and the efforts to keep lands public, clean, and healthy, but the longer this goes on, the more the sporting public, who are the real stewards of the land, will realize we don't need you. It is evident everywhere a sportsman has ignored a closed sign, barrier, or gate, and entered into the Public land their tax dollars paid for regardless of the senseless closure. Just yesterday I drove past one of the public boat launches that access a federal wildlife preserve. There I saw business as usual, as the chain stretched across the parking lot entrance had been cut, and the closed signs piled in a corner. Boaters and anglers who've never seen, or needed federal assistance at the ramp were discovering that they still don't need any federal assistance. So, while I hesitate to endorse, or encourage any kind of protest or anti-social/anti-governement behavior, I whole heartedly hope that sportsmen refuse to let the melt down keep them from enjoying what is their's. While I hunt and fish quite a bit on public land, I only skirt the edges of some federal land. I doubt very much I'll encounter any "closed" signs, but I can assure you that I won't be kept out should I stumble upon one.

     Secrets
     The world of the die hard Ruffed Grouse hunter is filled with as many secrets as the CIA man. Among those secrets, the most valuable is the locations of one's coverts. I, too, hold my covert cards close to my chest, and hope that never will come the day when I stumble upon another's spent shell in one of them. Truth is, it happens quite frequently, and I know full well that others hunt many of the same spots I revere as my own. Even my honey hole. And amazingly there are always birds there.

     Sometimes, however, it seems like elements are conspiring against me, and I don't like it. Several times I have opened an outdoors magazine to find an article detailing the wonderful grouse hunting in the exact town I hunt. Once I read an article that listed three towns in different states, two of which I travel to frequently. I've always found this to be distasteful, and a little hard to swallow. The truth is, however, other than a few more pickups on the road, and a bit of a longer wait for a beer at the pub, it's never impacted my hunting any more than just the cyclical nature of grouse populations. The birds were still there. In fact, I have been surprised on several occassions, when my hunting party has been doing quite well, to talk with another hunter, who'd travelled from afar, that wasn't doing well, and wasn't impressed with the area. Pondering this, I've come to the conclussion that magazine articles do little more than bring those who are interested in grouse hunting. Those who grouse hunt,...they know where to go, and how to find the birds. So in the future I'll be trying not to have a terrible knee jerk reaction to the articles. Still, somethings will remain a secret.

The Pause,... or The Paws?

     Lately I've been spending a lot of time dog training. More than anything else in fact. A well trained dog is essential to a successful hunt. It's not everything, practicing your wingshooting at skeet or sporting clays is important, too. With Ginger's introduction to hunt testing, and field trials, however, I've been focusing more on her performance than mine. Considering we've got two more trials before the year is over, I think that's a good thing. Fortunately, I've got a couple of friends lined up to shoot over her at grouse camp, and a few skeet days earmarked.

     With all the training I've been doing I've begun thinking about different traits I like in a dog and have pretty much come to the conclusion that if there was one trait I hold above all others it's Calmness. To be clear, calmness has nothing to do with drive, and the way the dog's motor propels it. A calm dog will hit the cover, or the water just as hard as any dog. A calm dog is just a dog that isn't overly excitable, and has learned that there is nothing wrong with pausing, taking a deep breath, and getting the job done right the first time. This kind of calmness most often seen in a well trained Labrador retriever, whose non-slip work is second nature. The kind of dog that sits patiently in the blind while ducks splash dog in front; often the result of age and wisdom.

     A couple years ago, at a spaniel training clinic, David Lisett (if you haven't heard of David before, you could spend your time in a lot of ways worse than Googling)  of Buccleuch Gundogs in Scotland told me of a theory he holds. David believes dogs have two modes of operation; "Thinking" and "Doing". A dog can rush right into a task without thinking; "Doing Mode", or a dog can pause for a second or two, think about what is needed, and then rush into a task; "Thinking Mode". Over time as I've reflected upon this, and have had opportunity to converse with other trainers, with other methods who may not agree with this, I've likened the "Doing and Thinking" theory to thinking before speaking in humans. Sure, we can all manage to communicate when we need to, but how about that time when you've needed to say something important, and stumbled on your words. Now, how about that time time you stopped, thought about what needed saying, chose your words perfectly, and sounded like a genius. This is what I interpreted David's theory as.

David Lisett works with a young Cocker from the U.P.



     David's theory was for the most part illustrated in non-slip retrieving drills, where a bumper would be tossed, but the dog wouldn't be sent until it had relaxed, rather than from the rocked forward, locked and loaded position. It wasn't just a matter of making the dog wait, but rather letting the dog learn it wouldn't be allowed to proceed until relaxed. Ah. Calmness. I started instilling calmness in my springer, Ginger, from the day she got home. She was gently steadied when retrieving tennis balls in the hallway, steadied before being let out in the yard, steadied before being allowed to jump into or out of the car. In short order, with gentle steadying, she learned to be calm, and that good things were going to happen in due time. She learned that there was no reason to be wound up; she was going to get to do what she wanted. It resulted in having a a non-slip steady springer at 5 months of age, not by training, but rather by conditioning.

     This calmness has manifest itself in other aspects of training and dog work. Steadying to wing, shot, and fall has all been made easier. Once a dog learns that it will be released from a stopped position, it becomes easier to get it to stop, and subsequently will learn that in order to be released it must be paying attention to you. Once you move into a more difficult training realm, perhaps long blind retrieves with cover, a calm dog will do wonders in calming a frustrated handler. Talk about a benefit.

     I don't think there are too many breeds that wouldn't benefit from pups that were conditioned to be calm from the onset. Imagine a retriever trainer having a pup that he doesn't have to fight to steady, or a pointing dog that easily understands that it'll be released from a "whoa" when the time is right. Sure, depending on the breed you might have to do things in a different order, and some dogs may take longer than others, but all the training we do is a lifetime commitment, anyway. And lest you believe calmness will dampen drive, think about this; a dog will do a memory retrieve out to well over 100 yards with great gusto. Do you really think it will be any different if you insist the dog uncoil the mental spring for a moment? A process that takes no more than 30 seconds? All we're really conditioning the dog to do is to think before it speaks.

Complimentary Catch and Release Tips; GW Speaks Out.

 Complimentary Catch and Release Tips:

I took a trip to the headwaters of the Connecticut River recently. I naively yearn for fishing locations where I have to bushwhack my way to the water with a machete, but I’m not alone in my love for fishing, and the world is such an overpopulated mess that I can walk up and down well-worn paths along both sides of any river that still has fish in it and be happy while my idealism slowly dies.

One morning I got down to the stretch of river between Lake Francis and Third CT Lake.  It was pretty crowded… Every one of the real fishy spots had a guy in waders standing in it.  This is not a big whoop, by the way, those other hearty souls have every bit as much of a right to be on that river as I do.  I should have gotten my ass over there earlier if I didn’t want to hike farther into the river system than anybody with any sense wanted to in order to find myself a nice patch of fish-holding sweetness that hadn’t had 50 years of daily beatings.

I got down to a nice hole that I’ve had success and failure in before, but there was a guy there already.  As I made my feet fall softly and moved slowly among the ferns by his pool, he hooked a fish and had it ready to net.  This is where the shit-show started and a lifetime of sadness and anger boiled up inside me.  Instead of bending down and netting the fish while it remained in the water, he lifted it out of the water with his line and started trying to catch a bouncing fish in the net from mid-air like it was a toy.  The fish was wiggling like crazy and his first few attempts failed to catch the fish in the net, but he did give the suffocating, horrified fish a good beating with his net.  Once he grabbed the fish against his chest with a dry hand and tore the hook out of its mouth by yanking on the tippet and he squirted the fish back into the water like you would a bar of soap in the shower if you were seven years old and having a bit of fun.

He was a friendly enough guy.  I talked to him for a little while even though in my heart-of-hearts I kind of wanted to beat him with my net, but I kept an eye on the water close to us while pleasantries passed between us.  There was a little eddy about 5 feet away, and sure enough, belly-up for the entire world to see, our recently deceased trout was swirling around in there.  I pointed with my rod-tip and said, “Hey look, there’s a dead fish, I wonder what happened.”

He said, “Whoa, he looks like a good fish too!”

I just wanted to fish, so even though my innards, on every level, coiled like a snake, I blew it off and didn’t press the issue any further because the river already had its corpse for one day. There was nothing I could do to help the fish, and I figure crayfish have got to eat too, so I just hopped from boulder to boulder downstream thinking about the great circle of life and all of that.  One thing I can do after the fact though is contemplate a few finer points of releasing a fish that you don’t intend to kill, bring home, and share from a generous heart.

1.       A trout that’s out of the water for more than 30-45 seconds is going to croak whether you put it back in the water or not.  Scientists have studied this shit.  Science is not a vast political conspiracy. This is going to vary from species to species and between individual fish, but that’s roughly how long you’ve got to free the hook, get the trout back underwater, and hold it there until it swims off under its own power to go be a trout in peace.  I have gotten into the habit of holding my breath while I take a fish off the hook.  While I’m doing my best to free the terrified creature, if I feel like I need to breathe, odds are that the fish does too, so I’ll give up if I haven’t gotten the hook out and submerge the fish for a little while so it can regain its strength before I try again.  Oh, and the clock started ticking while you were swinging the fish around trying to net it in midair, you fucking retard.

2.       If you had your fun catching the fish and want to let it live to fight another day, wet your hands before you touch it for the love of all things holy.  The slime that coats a trout’s entire body, the one that’s a total pain to clean off when you are preparing a fish you want to cook… it’s part and parcel of the fish’s immune system.  That slimy coating keeps molds and other infections from taking root on the fish’s skin, considering that it occupies a rather moist environment, and it will replenish itself if only a small amount is wiped off.  If your net has a giant slimy spot left in it once you let the fish go because you were squeezing the fuck out of it with a dry hand, that fish is going get sick and die a prolonged, agonizing death that you bear responsibility for.

3.       That beautiful trout that you have decided to benevolently release into the stream just spent the last few minutes fighting for its life.  It had no way of knowing that you weren’t going to kill it, so it just spent every, last molecule of its being trying to escape from the alien abduction we call catch-and-release fishing. You were able to net it in the first place because it gave everything it had and is near death.  What you are supposed to do is hold the fish’s tail in one hand and cradle its belly in the other. .. Holding it right-side-up, you move it gently back and forth in the water until it regains its strength and swims off on its own once it has recuperated.  If you are particularly attentive, you will observe bubbles escaping from its gill-plates which means that said gills are finally covered in water again and the fish is breathing healthily. I don’t give a fuck if the water’s cold and it makes your hands numb, which is going to happen because trout tend toward cold-water environments, wait for the fish to leave on its own.  If you just toss it in the water like some piece of shit you don’t care about, it’s too tired to swim and it’s going to drown, which will fuck your holistic idea of harmless fun into a thousand pieces as the trout suffocates in the very environment it is meant be breathe comfortably in.

If you fuck one of these basics up, the fish will be lucky to survive, but if you fuck all three of them up the fish will be dead before the next piss you take, and some stranger might happen by to know you for the asshole you don’t think of yourself as.

 I have no problem with taking a fish, by the way, when it is done with purpose.  This isn’t one of those elitist rants that fly back and forth between fly-fishermen, power-bait people, and live-bait sportsmen that makes by behind pucker up.  The only people on this stretch of river are fly-fisherman per-regulation…  A fisherman can keep fish within clearly defined limits, if they so desire. When I imagine myself as a man who is two inches long swimming across a clear pool of water, I doubt a trout would think too hard before it swallowed me entirely so they and I are in a karmic balance. Fair is fair, that’s the entire idea of catch-and-release, but it’s a twist on nature’s eternal conflict because human’s can show compassion in a way that is rare in other animals when we feel like it.  If you intend to bring game home from the out-set and survive based on the product of your hard work, I commend you; you have struck a blow against all of the forces in society trying to control you and mutating your food supply while they’re at it.

With all of that being said, I’m pleading to my fellows to make a decision about what you’re going to do with your catch before you even go to the river, choose your weapon, and land a fish. Stand by your decision like a man.  If you are going to let your fish go once you have held it in your hands, make sure the thing’s going to survive if you have already decided not use it to further your mortal coil.  Commit.  Take responsibility.   I can guarantee if you’re cutting corners with your catch and release, you’re cutting other corners in your world that damage everything you touch. If you’re going to shine one shoe, shine them both.  If you’re going to make a woman pregnant, be the best father you can be even if it wasn’t what you planned on before you started fucking.  If you bring shit home from the grocery store, eat it before it goes bad.  Don’t be lazy, wasteful, and ignorant while you turn an otherwise good world into shit one act of carelessness at a time.  If you can button things up with whatever your quarry may be and bring reasonable care, commitment, and compassion into the rest of your world, I’m betting things are going to start looking better and better for you across the board. You will be a complete person and the world will be your oyster. I’m doing it, and if you do it too, maybe someday the first thing I see when I get back to Boston won’t be a homeless crack-head begging for change by the highway… Think about it.

 

As I'm sure you can tell, GW is passionate about his fishing. Oh yeah! He's outspoken, too. Salty as GW may be, he's right. Please take a minute and consider your technique when handling fish and other game.