The Downeast Duck Hunter

It's time...

2010-03-23T20:31:00.003-04:00

For the 3.2 people that read my blog, you can find me at Downeast Duck Hunter.

So for now there will be no more posts here and I'll try to get going on some new stuff.

So see you in my parallel universe...

The Downeast Duck Hunter

Working on some streamers...

2010-03-18T17:57:00.004-04:00

This past weekend, I was digging around and came up with my father-in-law's old fly tying kit. The mother-in-law suggested I give it a try and it didn't take long for this to seem fairly easy and complicated at the same time.

My plans are to focus on streamer flies such as the black ghost, gray ghost, and other common works utilized in the Maine region. On taps is some ordering of materials based on the recipes for tying, and a couple of books. I would like to mention that there is an abundance on quality sites on youtube for the aspiring individual. It's pretty fun and if anyone wants to bounce ideas of off me then don't hesitate to post or email to the above listed address.

Below are a couple of flies, one done by me and the other constructed by my oldest daughter with minimal help from her dad.

My first stab...

My beauty's colorful work of art...

Here's a good link to the gray ghost... Click Here

It looks like the next fishing season is going to be quite favorable with ice fishing as long as there is ice and open water fishing once the ice is gone, I'll check the details out further and post on the new changes for 2010.

Take care,

The Downeast Duck Hunter

ATV plastic restoration...

2010-03-06T22:04:00.010-05:00

Phase I is now complete...

BEFORE

AFTER

BEFORE

AFTER

This has been a long time coming and I should have never let my ATV go like this, but time got past me as I got married, had a couple of kids, and gathered a few more jobs in my busy world. Some things like my 2003 Yamaha Big Bear 400 4X4 found minimal usage (500 miles in six years) and I never replaced the cover once it went bad. Nevertheless, I decided this winter that I would either repair the damage done by the sun and weather or buy a new fender kit for my quad...

After an abundance of research and no luck, I decided that maybe a heat gun could potentially restore the plastic to a more original form. I chose to hit up youtube.com to see if anyone had done this and found several videos of people using heat guns to bring out the finish on plastic ground effects. There was one that seemed plausible. Click here to see the video.

So I've started the process and see some success, but I want to mention that this will not be perfect but rather an improvement. Also, once the heat gun has been used for several minutes I've applied a buffing agent used for fiberglass boats. It has evened out the spots where the heat gun overlaps, but the compound beforehand did not yield better results...

I look forward to the complete restoration of this proven quad with only 700 miles. I've documented my progress below...

Take care

The Downeast Duck Hunter

Future write ups...

2010-03-05T21:30:00.008-05:00

The Big Bear is due for a face lift...

On taps for the future of the Downeast Duck Hunter include:

In celebration of the Maine Outdoorsman's new Yamaha Grizzly ATV, I will showcase a fender restoration on my 2003 Yamaha Big Bear. It only has 700 miles on it, but the sun and elements were a tad harder on it than I have been. Should make for a neat story, especially since I found squat for tricks to bring out the faded plastic. But yours truly has skills!!!

There is a make up DuckPower fishing trip in the works for mid-May which will include the Duckforce fleet which includes my 18 foot Lund with a new 50 hp Mercury. It has only seen duck hunting action and I'm currently retrofitting it for some lake trout and landlocked salmon trolling. I've coordinated the schedule so there will be no issues, if there is then I'll be less a couple of friends!!!

And there will be a special feature coming up in the next week or so... my wife will be thrilled!!!

Until then, stay west cause I'm downeast... ha ha ha

Northern Maine in 2003 on my second moose permit...

Duckpower hits the ice... day one continued...

2010-03-01T08:54:00.007-05:00

A touch of flashback to better transition the unbiased viewpoint in comparison to the prevarication of my friend to the end...

It seemed all to easy, the hot spot we were about to strike in order to score the almighty state record was just a bare jaunt through the bushes along a path. Apparently, we weren't traveling the road less traveled. Actually, I noticed a car pool lane, passing lane, and several off ramps. I noticed the continual upbeat manner of my unregistered Maine guide whose only true success in leading me in good direction was one small jake turkey.

As described in my previous post, it didn't take long to drill the holes and set the traps. I must once again reflect upon Mr. Outdoorsman's two footed balancing act on a flat horizontal surface in a frictionless environment. Hindsight is always 20/20 and I still consider myself regretful that I didn't take the time to videotape Steve's steps of caution and near catastrophe.

For quite some time, the only thing caught was a bare tickle from the efforts of Bud Light. Mr. Outdoorsman kept stating that comradery and the outdoors was all one needs to have a great time, but he in his all inspiring soliloquy managed to forget that I had just driven three hours in an attempt to salvage my vacation as a direct result of poor planning. So as he continued his ideational blathering, I kept thinking “where is that damn fish if one exists here?" My god, it honesty looked like someone had held an ice fishing convention and the only two that weren't invited were dynamic duo who currently sat on the ice.

So after all the chaos and contempt, Steve scored a legit flag shortly after one of my surrounding traps (yes, I had three traps surrounding his one lone long bomb). The spool was turning, then an abrupt pause would occur. To be honest, this is how chain pickerel typically handle a bait and I knew exactly what Steve was planning. Upon each run, Steve would smirk knowing that his opportunity to strike first neared completion. His description to fuel my anguish was, "let him eat that bait to his ass, then I'll hook that potty mouth". Not completely understanding his fishing quote of lore, I nodded in agreement as I attempted to videotape the catch on my cellphone.

Then the hook was set and the Hammer began to draw in the next state record. He moaned and groaned while complaining of how terribly powerful this behemoth was. I could''t doubt his experience, after all three years ago he hauled a 17 pound northern of off North Pond which lays claim to the current state record. After a few seconds of drawing line, a northern emerged from the shallow depths and pushed out of the ten inch hole in the ice. In an attempt to explain his drawn out battle to the end, Steve mumbled something to the extent of "that was a great fight for a smaller pike"... I didn't care, the only thing on my mind was that the man who had just driven hours to go ice fishing was officially down one. After a few pictures of the giddy wonder, we returned for a couple more of those red #7 weapons of mass destruction.

I needed to increase the intensity of the lazy man's sport of ice fishing, those traps had to be checked more frequently so that I could increase my odds of hooking a pike before sundown. Yes, I would be on my way...

Upon the arrival to my third trap, I caught the glimpse of something larger than the shiner attached to the hook. Steve was on the cell phone with his brother describing his good fortunes over my current failures and was readily on his way as I announced “Fish On!!!”

With the camera set for the all mighty and important action photo, I began to embark on my own personal struggle to haul in the northern pike of a lifetime. As I set the hook, I felt almost no resistance whatsoever to the point I thought the fish was gone. That should have been how it went, but nevertheless I continued to bring in the short run line and pulled the monster amphibian out of the hole.

Yes, I scored the almighty mud puppy (Necturus maculosus) which automatically puts the ice fisherman into the underclass category.

Downhearted and depressed, I posed for a few photos for Steve's enjoyment and emphatically marched to one of Steve's traps to toss my trophy into the shallow abyss. Needless to say, to have driven 3 hours to catch such a wondrous element of nature didn't float my boat of personal utility.

A last flag just beyond the point where Steve caught the northern pike went up and this would be my last opportunity as the sun began it's retreat below the tree line. The spool turned several times and upon a light check to see if anything was on, I realize that the attempt was futile. Within several minutes battling the chill of impending darkness and gaining wind, we had packed up and found our way back to the truck. Our next stop would be Steve's abode to spend the evening with the family. Deer tips and bear steak would be on the menu. With Bud Light, Nuke 'Em hotdogs, venison, and bear in my belly, Mr. Outdoorsman's toilet better be under warranty.

Is that a mudpuppy on my head?

The Downeast Duck Hunter

Duckpower hits the ice... day one...

2010-02-25T10:28:00.013-05:00

The Elusive Great Pond Northern Pike

Cruising along in my GMC Sierra knowing that once again I would be on time, I gave the mighty Outdoorsman a jingle on the cell phone to inquire his whereabouts. You see he had this master plan for me to connect with him at this lake I had never even seen. Our planning the night before from his perspective only suggested that I find this landing at this point on map 20 of the Maine Atlas. Even with Google Maps, I jawed the entire tenure about his high expectations concerning my own navigational prowless. Fortunately for me, he had gone in to work early and checked out in time for us to meet at high noon at his residence. For some reason, my consistent time management skills are never good enough for the man who is constantly late when the boot is on the opposite foot. I suppose he conveniently forgets that he cost me about 2 hours of lobster fishing time last summer because he had to take pictures of a ruffed grouse in the middle of the road to enhance the visual portion of his nationally acclaimed blog...

As I quickly grabbed my ice fishing gear, I asked Mr. Outdoorsman how his auger was running and he replied with a worrisome “I was hoping yours was running well.” Translation, he figured as always that I was prepared as usual so that he neglect any extra responsibility. I gave it a test pull for one reason only, to avoid any type of public flogging over the internet from the one who I think is my friend. It fired without hesitation and was loaded into the truck for some hole drilling action. Steve mumbled something about how it would perform, I smiled and said, “We'll see....”

I had enough foresight to grab bait at my own local venue to avoid randomly searching for one in central Maine. Steve had mentioned the night before about this spot, but I knew that his misdirection would only forfeit more time in my trip. In addition, I knew the quality of the bait I would be bringing as opposed to taking a chance with the Maine Outdoorsman.

We hauled out of the driveway to the scream of “I can't drive fifty-five” in haste so that Steve wouldn't have to help his wife unload the children, three hundred dollars worth of groceries, and the diaper bag. Apparently, I thought, this might be a ploy to utilize me as a reason for skirting his family responsibilities. On any account, the head banging continued as I found some old earplugs in my waders to counteract his enthusiasm for heavy metal.

The wind and sunshine both seemed to be in full force at the landing, which was on the west end of a long narrow point. I hoped we would be on the leeward side, and my wishes were granted as Steve guided us through a footpath to a small cove. I inquired about his lack of steel on the bottom of his boots, he responded with a witty retort of “I'll be fine and you worry about yourself”. I laughed inside and wished for a magical digger, slip, wipe out, or damaging fall. Choose whatever term you'd like, any of them would fit for my hopes and dreams directed upon the sure footed sportsman. Fortunately for me, my father-in-law had given me some steel creepers that “they just don't make anymore”. I would motor all around the cove without fear of falling while I watched Steve negotiate every step like it would be his last.

We would hit the east side of this point at the boat ramp to avert the sharp Northwest wind and declining sun...

It didn't take long to set the gear into the water and our base camp put us near the shoreline well out of the biting wind that battered the point. Steve pulled out his mountaineering camp stove and super size red #7 agents of pain and suffering. For the condiments we would enjoy relish, ketchup, and mustard all stolen from the cafeteria that morning. In just a few minutes, we were dining on a most excellent lunch of hot dogs and chips. However, I immediately began to recognize that this fare was no longer on my family menu of healthy living. There would be reckoning for this and I hoped that Steve's wife would forgive me for the crimes I intended to commit.

There were several flags early in our afternoon, including a most impressive display by the Maine Outdoorsman who was speeding towards a flag that had been quietly raised by yours truly while returning from shifting ice traps further out in the cove. His excitement and anticipation honestly amused and upset me at the same time, after ten minutes of watching the motionless reel I informed him of my inappropriate intentions. He growled about something or better yet, nothing and slipped angrily to base camp. My guess is that he was plotting some type of pay back either through the short term means or by avenue of eloquent writing to smear and defame my good reputation. For a smidgen of his libel check out The Maine Outdoorsman.

The Big 34...

2010-02-21T19:00:00.011-05:00

The Maine Outdoorsman pulling a Northern Pike through the ice... be ready for his drivel and endearing efforts of dishonesty and rumor...

Another year has passed and I wouldn't qualify the year as the best ever. Our family has endeared loss, challenges, and hard times while also witnessing major pivotal moments of transition, accomplishments, and opportunity. With that said, I'd like to share in my weekend that puts me yet another year closer to the end.

A cold, wet snout raked across my face and the smell of dog permeated my personal space this early morning. This was not how I envisioned the beginning of my 34th birthday, but I suppose the undying love of a dog that I would consider annoying is better than no attention at all. Here I lay in the guest room of the Maine Outdoorsman, aka Rabid Outdoorsman, aka Sheldrake Steve, aka Duck Hammer, aka owner of chubby dog Onyx who was licking my face.

I could hear the banter of his little men down the hall and soon the early preparations of the day were in full effect. The plan was to have breakfast, and then bolt for home before my beauties got home from Sunday school and church. Only three hours of driving would be the obstacle in my plans.

This weekend jaunt for northern pike was the best attempt to rectify the poor planning made in regards to the much anticipated salmon/lake trout fiasco that had been previously planned. I'm appreciative that Steve would make time to at least offer me an opportunity to catch a fish of great magnitude.

We did get a series of flags Friday afternoon at Great Pond of the Belgrade Lakes chain, but only two traps proved successful. However, my catch was less than satisfactory while Steve managed to pull in a nice 24 inch Northern Pike. Upon dusk, we quickly gathered the gear and made way to base camp.

The next day would require travel by avenue of all terrain vehicle as we cruised out to Hoyt Island on Great Pond for an early set up. Unfortunately, our rewards for researching, planning, and implementation yielded only one flag in the early afternoon. Battered but not beaten, we chose to quit before dusk to load the equipment properly and get back for a meal that would be waiting for my consumption.

Although we had little success, I absolutely enjoyed my two days in central Maine. Sometimes being in the outdoors isn't necessarily about limiting out or taking a trophy, but much rather an opportunity to share time with a great friend and figure out how to better ourselves and the world around us. For that, I'm thankful for the time off and chance to reflect on the things working well in my life while considering the avenues of improvement. Next time, the 23 pound northern pike will find its way through the ice (and not Steve's hole).

I did get home in record time and well before the return of my little beauties. Once they arrived, we immediately hit the floor for some creative design (coloring) including my rough plans for an ice fishing shack that will attach to a trailer I've been working on. Everything else went without hesitation; a great ham dinner, cake & ice cream, and cards were opened. Throw that in with some snuggle time, reading a few books with the girls, and an early bedtime made for an early evening.

Even though my 365 days from age 33 to 34 have been full of sadness and loss, I do realize how fortunate I am to build this world and most importantly to build two most wonderful and aspiring young ladies. I'm a lucky man to have my life and I sincerely hope that this next year gives more in life than it takes away, but that is in God's hands...

I'll end tonight with a line from the card my wife gave me-
You are the arms around me when I'm feeling all alone in the world, and the only person in the universe that I'd ever want to spend forever with.

It's amazing that she chose me, and even greater that I'm forever in her eyes. Again, I'm a lucky man...

The Downeast Duck Hunter

Ice Fishing Fail

2010-02-17T21:01:00.003-05:00

After the biggest outdoors letdown I've experienced in quite some time, I've tried to put together the pieces of my vacation that have included a family weekend in the big city of Bangor, an ice fishing venture at Matt Diesel's new camp, and an upcoming ice fishing trip with the Maine Outdoorsman to central Maine in pursuit of some northern pike.

However, I did manage to get both my beauties out for some ice fishing action today and found that things got interesting as my youngest daughter approached a tip up. So I fired up the new Canon Vixia HF 20 and began to video the landmark event only to discover that she was in fact trying to put the flag back down after kicking some slush onto the trap.

Long story short... no fish, no flags, and an early trip into the camp to attend to one very wet leg... all I need to say is been there and done that...

She's fine and says she'll go with me again if her sister stays home...

Take care,

The Downeast Duck Hunter

Left Behind...

2010-02-11T11:00:00.004-05:00

This isn't exactly what I had intended to share in celebration of my 100 posts, but here goes...

It is with my upmost regret to inform my readership that my excitement and efforts towards the upcoming fishing trip to West Grand Lake have been halted.

Apparently our efforts towards the planning of this 4 day adventure neglected one key component- communication.

When scheduling this event, I honestly felt that the trip was to be from February 18th to the 21st. When I learned that my friends were getting excited about leaving on Thursday (today), I wasn't quite sure what was going on. To make a long story short, I had made all plans around the end of school vacation instead of taking time off before.

I hold myself responsible for this blunder, but can say I've got through the emotional states of failure. At first I was terribly mad, then quite upset, followed by an irritated frustration. Now, I am just bummed because all my planning has resulted in nothingness. But it is important to mention that I do hope my friends still have a great time, even though it stinks to know that I will not be a part of the good time.

We'll see how my vacation plays out...

On a side note, I have been working on moving my blog with a small twist- I'm dropping "the" and working on building www.downeastduckhunter.blogspot.com

Until next time, The Downeast Duck Hunter

Cathance Lake Special...

2010-02-07T09:48:00.005-05:00

Yesterday, I took to the ice after a short hiatus from all things outdoors. The weekend weather systems haven't been all that pleasant, and I haven't had much time with the family as a result of my dual careers. However, once the word "salmon" was mentioned and with some planning, a cold day on the ice would be in order. I would ride with my uncle to meet up with my cousin and another good buddy on Cathance Lake in Cooper, Maine. It may sound strange, but I've driven by the lake many times and never even considered it a viable option. Trolling for salmon seems to be popular in the spring, but I never had a reason to go there especially since I could hit the salmon on Gardner's Lake which is 20 minutes closer. Anyways, back to the story...

Once we got to the landing and unloaded, we made a short jaunt to the spot chosen by the dynamic duo who put Liquid's truck on the ice. Aptly named the S(tress)-10, the teal green pickup has been highly modified as the sportman's dream. A pressure treated wooden flat bed trimmed with eye screws provide for any securement while the stick shift gives the driver the ability to draw arms as an old Ruger pistol grip meets the hand for speed shifting. If you can bog the motor down just enough and then gear from 4th and 2nd with a little extra pedal, you can experience some boom, boom, pow and feel the shock wave from miles away. Needless to say, I'd guess the truck would be worth more below the ice than above it. Just kidding Liquid, you ride is very well pimped...

The boys had already set out, so Uncle and I made quick work with the ice auger and got our traps set. I chose to run straight out from an island into deeper water in hopes of hooking a salmon that might be swinging by the point. This line was completed by 9:20 and by 9:31 as I began to return to our post, the first flag sprang into the air. Once I neared the hole protected by a freezing slush wall to fight the drifting snow, I noticed the Heritage Laker spool spinning with intention. You forget what it's like to hook a bigger fish, especially since I've been chasing brook trout for the last two years. But on any account, I let the line run a tad more and began to retrieve the fish which I knew was a landlocked salmon. At first it felt like a log, then there was no resistance, then it was going in all directions. Eventually, the mono filament pulled out of the hole and a beautiful 19 inch salmon shined against the blue bird sky...

Liquid would yank out a foot long brook shortly thereafter and that would be the beginning of the end as I only had wind flags and prank flags for the remainder of our stay. We spent much time moving the Stress-10 to block the steady but shifting wind. I'm thankful for my cold weather gear, it was below 10 degrees and the persistent breeze made for a bitter adventure...

We grilled bear and moose steak, while sampling some deer sausage on the side with some boiled coffee and Coca-Cola slush puppies. Needless to say, I'm pleased with the day and would consider it to be a great primer for the big trip in Grand Lake Stream. T-minus 12 Days!!!

Have a good one,

The Downeast Duck Hunter

Brought back to life...

2010-02-01T20:39:00.005-05:00

Tim checking the track and other aspects of snowmobiling mechanics...

Before my father-in-law passed, he found it quite important to make sure what things were to go where. All things hunting, fishing, and outdoors related would become mine unless I had no need for them. He often mentioned, "There is no reason for you to buy that, take mine and bring it back when your done". Unfortunately, there is no more borrowing of his items of "outdoor affection".

Some sporting items are absolutely priceless to me such as his Winchester Model 94 given to him on his 16th birthday by his father and some fly fishing rods that even I wasn't allowed to use. But much of his gear (as I'll call it) was everyday, basic equipment that was usually found under the "right" circumstances. If my father-in-law was anything, he was a fixer and imaginary who believe everything had value or could be modified to perform any service. In addition, he knew when a purchase was "right" and how it would help better achieve his outdoor pursuits.

Enter the 1988 Yamaha Exciter snowmobile. About two years ago, Papa picked up a snowmobile that hadn't been used for two years prior. He and a friend spent a day spraying into the cylinder to free up the pistons eventually to get the sled running. It never had been used hard, and Papa took the 570 cc snowmobile for a 30 mile jaunt with complete satisfaction. He knew it had another life in it, however that would be the last time he rode the sled.

Last May, he gave me the sled and proclaimed that it would make a wonderful "toy" for ice fishing, short trips, and entertainment for the girls. I accepted simply because it was so important for me to have it, apparently he knew that I would be able to put it to good use.

I didn't get around to getting it until this past fall. With the hectic summer and trying to deal with the consequences of losing a most loved man, time got by me and eventually it got to a point that I discover whether or not this machine would be of value. Papa's purchase didn't ever worry me, it was the two years it sat covered in the backyard. The Yamaha again had frozen up, and there was little I could do at that point.

One weekend after helping with the woodpile, I concocted a crude pulley system where I actually pulled the snowmobile onto a trailer, then anchored the line on the plow truck and while I drove forward the snowmobile slid up the ramp off of the trailer and perfectly into my truck. I'm not sure if I even understand what I just wrote, but needless to say I was quite impressed with my rough engineering.

I found myself visiting my buddy Tim, a gas engine aficionado who loves anything dealing with motors. We began the process of troubleshooting and quickly "unfroze" the piston with some PB Blaster directly into the cylinders as I continued to turn the starting key. Slowly but surely, things were moving and we got to changing the fuel to see if the sled would start. In a matter of moments and with a degree of anticipation, the snowmobile was running and sounding surprisingly "excellent".

With this good fortune, I forwarded the sled to a local ATV and snowmobile repair shop for a carburetor cleaning, new battery, and overall inspection. The feedback was dismal at first as the two carburetors were reckoned unfit for service, but one day later the mechanic called to inform me of better news. With some replacement parts and some hope, the sled was fully operable and running well. What amazes me the most is that this sled is 22 years old with 7,600 miles on it, these statistics don't coincide with the fact that it runs perfectly and looks well kept. I guess Papa saw a deal the day he picked it up.

I've put about 50 miles on the sled to ensure that my trip to West Grand Lake may not end in a breakdown. About 8 years ago, I discovered that problem in the middle of the lake about 7 miles from the cabin. We'll hope I don't perform a repeat of that great act again and these four days for perfect running. I'm confident that the old sled will do well, Papa didn't intend for anything different.

Bird Band Data and the Disputed Eider...

2010-01-28T19:52:00.004-05:00

It took some time, but I finally got all the information back from the disputed eider taken earlier this season by one of my good friends. Being the good man I am, I'll put the photos of the disputing participants for my personal enjoyment.

Just like with the banded hen several years ago that was over 13 years, this drake eider proved to be quite the trophy. The statistics are as follows: Male Common Eider banded on 8/8.2002 at the Petit Manan Wildlife Refuge, south of Milbridge, Maine by Brad Allen of DIFW. This drake was believed to have been hatched in 2001 or earlier and taken on December 5, 2009.

My hen banded eider was far more traveled as it made the trek from Sonora, Nova Scotia (at least 400 miles) over 13 years while this drake presented a far more residential lifestyle traveling only eighteen miles in 7.5 years.

Of particular notice, the band left worn readily on one side and was missing several numbers. Once it was returned, the etching process now clearly displays all numbers. However, you can easily see how the band was inspected almost burred around the band. I'm not sure if this is due to my request to have the band remain round, or it was done with a different technique. I checked the band from my hen and could not see any of the numbers the BBL found.

On any account, I'm getting excited about my extended ice fishing vacation up in the Grand Lake Stream region as the Rabid Outdoorsman and yours truly embark on 4 day fiasco chasing both the lake trout and landlocked salmon. It should make for quite an experience and quite a blogging flogging. This BlogFlog begins on February 18th, so stay tuned...

The Downeast Duck Hunter

Comings and Goings... and a writer's funk...

2010-01-19T21:38:00.003-05:00

I figured while I watch Scott Brown change the balance of power in the U.S. Senate, it would be a good idea to post my peeps on the generalities of my January...

Over the long weekend, we hit the brook trout quite well as limits were achieved on Saturday and Monday. Sunday was without any success, but I had my co-pilot with me for a temperate afternoon. She was bummed that we didn't get a fish, but I quickly shared with her that, "Daddy would rather catch zero fish with you, than catch 50 by himself". I towed her all around, watched her do this running slide thing on the ice, and checked several flags that had bait stolen. Pretty soon I'm going to bring out the ATV or the snowmobile, but I'm trying to teach her the importance of being outdoors first without the toys. I don't want it to become all about the machines...

Today, I received my eider band from the Bird Band Laboratory with a notice that the information will soon arrive. That in itself will be interesting, after that I've got to decide who gets the band. I joked that since neither of my buddies couldn't prove they shot the eider, the band belonged to the captain. Maybe I'll just keep it and bring it to our social events for some jabbing and aggravation...

I've been sort of in a writing funk and really not motivated to type or even take pictures, for that I apologize and will try to bring a more dedicated prose to my blog. There are still a few good articles in the works, but duck hunting is pretty much done as my boat has been at the doctors for some time now going under some warranty work...

Until next time,

The Downeast Duck Hunter

First day out on the ice...

2010-01-09T20:40:00.005-05:00

I had planned on an ice fishing jaunt with the Rabid Outdoorsman for this weekend, but plans change and I just couldn't attend the brown trout venture he had planned with his brother, Matt Diesel.

However, I wasn't without opportunity and the brook trout found trouble today. My good friend Bud and I departed before daylight to get an early jump on the fishing while our wives would expect our return at noon for their joint venture to stimulate the economy. Our fishing party also was attended by my uncle, cousin, and good buddy Brian.

The photographic opportunities around the day were skewed at best, my camera never ever even took one picture as I glared at "Change the Batteries" while I attempted to photograph my first brook trout. Meanwhile, I never even knew that Bud had a camera until he was taking some photos for himself.

The wind was a snappy Northerly, with a sharp chill but we managed to check the traps often and proved successful in our labors. Tallies floated around twenty plus brook trout landed ranging from six inches to thirteen inches. I had caught my 11 inch brookie even before I could get my second trap baited first thing in the morning. That same hole saw five trout dance out of the icy circle.

Below are several photos taken by Bud who landed five trout himself, sometimes the better days just don't get imagery to impress the quality of the experience. Nevertheless, I am appreciative of the photos that I can share this weekend.

Have a great one,

The Downeast Duck Hunter

Got Black ducks???

2010-01-02T13:48:00.007-05:00

As this major storm system stalls over the Gulf of Maine, I had to see where the resident mallards and black ducks chose to harbor. Several places were quite predictable as some other spots came as quite a surprise, but the large tides we are having right now along with the elevated levels due to the storm provided some non-typical flood zones.

My oldest daughter went out on the first scouting mission and wanted to takes some pictures and video of the congregated ducks. Here's the fruit of her labor...

I took a few pictures on the second round, the ducks weren't to excited to see me driving by but they would return once I left.

Here's my video of some black duck action...

My wife once again chose to trump my photography skills, I'm quite impressed with the close up pictures.

There's some plans in the works for some great posting shortly, however I need to maintain a double top secret angle as the information keeps trickling in on several stories that truly ended 2009 with a bang. Until then, I hope you all are eager for 2010...

Virtual Hunting

2009-12-27T12:10:00.007-05:00

So Santa had some issues with me this year and I had no choice but to bust my hump to get on the nice list over these past few weeks. After doing some research for a video game system since I'm not a gamer, it became apparent that the most family friendly device was the Wii by Nintendo. We've been busy with the bowling and other games, but my heart belongs to the Cabelas Big Game Hunter 2010 with the Top Shot Peripheral gun. Here's a link that will send you straight to Cabela's to check it out- Cabela's Big Game Hunter.

I must say the game is quite impressive and has consumed my weekend pitting the Downeast Duck Hunter against all types of big game ranging from Brown Bear to Caribou to Red Stag. Even though it isn't a fair replacement for getting into the woods, I must say that the average outdoors fanatic must try this game.

It took time to work out the buttons, apparently my skills have diminished since 8th grade but within an hour or so the game became more natural to negotiate. Below is a quick video of my cousin who found himself in Argentina pursuing Red Stag. Thus far, I'd have to give it an A+ partially for it has held my attention for three days straight and the realistic opportunities from my perspective.

Bear Baiting with the DEDH!!!

2009-12-20T15:15:00.006-05:00

My esteemed friend and colleague, The Maine Outdoorsman, has spent several years pursuing the elusive black bear with little avail. So this past fall, I thought I'd try my hand at this baiting thing but couldn't bring myself to pull the trigger. Rather, I chose to photograph this sophisticated creature who manages to elude even the most experienced of hunters. I hope that my photo doesn't alter the face of bear hunting, for there would be no bear left...

But then again, this could be a futile effort to spread a little Christmas joy amongst the world of hunting and fishing. Have a great season friends!!!

Note: This photo was sent to my wife through email and wasn't taken by me. The photographer at this point is unknown...

Once again to the Bird Band Lab...

2009-12-11T19:36:00.003-05:00

The band from this drake eider has been sent to the Bird Band Laboratory in Laurel, MD to be etched in order to determine the numbers worn off the aluminum band over time. For those who don't know the process, the band is put into a chemical mixture and since the band is stamped one can still "see" the numbers after immersion. Included with the band was a letter stating all necessary information pertaining to the take of the eider including location, date, and how retrieved.

Off particular note, the last band I sent to the BBL returned with some incredible information. The hen eider was 13 years old and banded on the southeast border of Nova Scotia. I've posted the link to an earlier blog entry about the bands taken thus far, not including the ones taken this year. Have a great weekend.

Bands, Bling Bling Baby, Bands...

The Downeast Duck Hunter

Too funny to hold back!!!

2009-12-05T16:36:00.005-05:00

So my best man, code name Sniper, and Littlefield make the trek Downeast for some eider action and I can't help but believe these two are the next coming of Harry and Lloyd. First they decide to travel 12 hours all over Maine yesterday, get home at midnight and then get up at 3 a.m. in order to get to my neck of the woods before legal shooting. The only thing missing was they came in a truck, not a moped. I suppose they were men of priority, because there's no way I'd carouse around like they did especially when a promising hunt was is the forecast. But that's the least of their trials and tribulations...

Obviously they were a little overdosed on caffeine or suffering from insomnia for they were shooting faster than Tom Knapp. I'll be honest, the eiders looked superb but my concern was that they were fast approaching their prospective limits rather quickly. I didn't even have a chance to load my gun, get a cup of coffee, or even get the camera out. These quack addicts apparently needed a fix, but I needed to put them in detox. Yours truly needed a few shots and I got them, then the two machine gunners were able to finish out their limits with restraint. When the smoke cleared, twelve eiders lay in the floor of the boat and we elected to try another spot for some scoters and old squaws. But this isn't the best part of the story...

I had kept informing both men to keep track of which birds they shot for two reasons, one obviously was to keep track of duck limits and the other was to see if any possessed the prize band that adds to essence of the hunt. I've said many times that a banded eider is the 8 point buck of sea ducking, and getting one is always exciting. However, my boys either weren't listening or too bent on unleashing the cannons of pain and suffering. As Sniper was confirming the first two limits of the morning, he exclaimed that one drake had a band. I knew for a fact that I did not get it as every duck in my quarry had been throughly inspected. That put the band in the possession of my two hunting partners...

To know that one band existed between these two yahoos was an internal treat to which I held my satisfaction well. The best part was that neither could prove who had in fact, shot the duck. The only comparative element was that Sniper had taken all drakes while Littlefield had one hen in his bag...

We acheived our limit shortly thereafter and our day had been limited in roughly one hour and fifteen minutes. After a quick phone call to my wife, we moved to another spot without any success. By 11:00 a.m. we were back at the landing...

The captain of the ship took the band, it now is a treasure by committee. Plus I now have a wonderful fire starter for any future engagements where all of us will be in a crowd. Their blunder has and will become my pleasure...

In addition, I tricked them both into a photo op with the prize eider. It was a great day and I'm still smiling as I finish with these words...

Have a great one,

The Downeast Duckhunter

Was it Sniper???

Or Littlefield???

Guess we'll never know!!!

Are you ready???.

2009-12-02T18:46:00.003-05:00

My best man...

He's the same person I created a Facebook group to make fun of until he joined, once he got an account I wouldn't let him join the group. And I'm excited to finally get him downeast for some gunning action.

Getting my best man down for a sea duck hunt might just be the hardest thing to accomplish. But since the deer count is down in Maine and he's downhearted and depressed, my right hand man has chosen to forfeit this upcoming Saturday to pursue the might eider. Weather looks good and I intend to videotape as much as possible, my intentions are to publicly flog him to the dire end. Until then, hope for his arrival and potential poor shooting!!!

The Downeast Duck Hunter

Online Scouting

2009-11-29T00:04:00.001-05:00

Due to some inclement weather over the past month, I thought I'd at least try to find some new spots for hunting and fishing. My focus centered on fresh water spots within a 30 mile range of my hometown. It would be wrong to say that this process was tedious and unproductive, but rather tedious and very productive. I found spot that I never knew existed, waterways that weren't on the topographical map, and roads that have been recently added.

In using Google Earth, a Maine Delorme Atlas, and my handheld GPS, I set out yesterday morning in search of a cool spot. I had to put my efforts forward and see what successes and failures would surface. However, reflective practice requires you set forth with a game plan, consider all the elements of the plan, and then redesign the strategy for next time.

I made mistakes, I tried ideas on the run, and I scanned the data once I got home. Although I missed the ideal spot to launch my canoe or kayak, I have been able to get there next time for sure. Trial and error is a wonderful thing, but the mistakes rendered only resulted in honing my talents to better utilize my scouting in the near future.

Below is a vlog (video blog) about my experience with online scouting and putting research into action. It's eight minutes long, but there is some interesting elements to the endeavor.

The Downeast Duck Hunter

I've been Ambushed!!!

2009-11-12T18:23:00.004-05:00

I did it and I'm so pumped!!!

I found an Old Town Ambush canoe/kayak hybrid only twenty miles away from me for the minimal price of $350. It had only been used once and the dealer was unloading the vessel. I can't write much now, but will soon. Until then, happy hunting!!!

The Downeast Duck Hunter

A Duck Hunting Day Off...

2009-11-10T09:41:00.002-05:00

Due to a school closure, my father and I had the chance to sneak out this morning for an eider shoot. The video is mostly his shooting simply because he's not what you call "handy" with video cameras. This short video puts our morning into perspective. Enjoy!!!

The Downeast Duck Hunter

Addicted to quack, and I'm the dealer...

2009-11-07T08:40:00.007-05:00

The good work of my oldest who is home with the flu...

Finally, the weather made for favorable conditions for a chance to do some sea duck hunting. The plans had been put in motion earlier in the week and the extended forecast continually showed true promise. Although the swine flu had found its way into the homestead, my wife encouraged me to take advantage of the spectacular weather. She thought the children would still be sleeping even after my return home.

Diesel embracing the moment as Duck Power finally gets out

This story has another angle besides the fact that Diesel and I could finally attend a quality duck shoot. A newbie had been actively inquiring about this "sea ducking" that Diesel discussed ever so often. It was determined that this aspiring hunter would be joining us with the expectation rendered (Safety, Safety, & Safety) when introducing any new waterfowler to our craft. Armed with his apprentice license and a shiny duck stamp, Chris became a sponge of learning and his instant admiration of our practice was evident.

The lad had no idea what he was getting into...

After discovering his last time shooting a firearm was fifteen years ago, I informed him that this was heroin and I am the dealer. He grinned as Diesel supported my claim with the devious grin often seen when Duck Power took to the high seas. It is important to understand that I'm not joking here, there exists this amazing surge of interest and inquisition every time I say this to any new hunter of my boat. I then let the experience do the rest. Today would be no different.

Shortly after legal shooting, Diesel and I quickly downed three eiders. Chris needed to see this first hand to better understand the process before he could cut loose. His observations were in awe as the giant ducks fell and to the speed that this all transpired. We gradually inserted him into the process and guided his efforts with caution. It didn't take long for his shouldering to improve, awareness to hone in, and execution to develop. In all fairness, he respected our instruction and criticism with much grace. He was here to learn, experience, and participate while we were there to help him try something new under a correct application.

Chris with his first ever eider

Diesel scored the shot of the day as he dropped a beautiful banded hen. His smile showed a hint of elation under the guise of a more professional approach to success. The excitement of the moment was apparent, but he took it in stride. It's a great day to acquire a banded bird, this moment only cemented the success of our day.

Diesel with his banded hen eider

Within two hours, we had fulfilled our limit of twelve eiders and packed up our gear. A quick tour of the area to show some scenery, do some scouting, and run the new motor then followed. Then it was back home to help my wife with the kids who are several days into the H1N1 virus.

I'm fortunate to be able to introduce new hunters to this game, and even more fortunate that there exists an interest within the scope of the practice. There exists no question that today was a great day and I'm sure we'll be seeing Chris again.

The Downeast Duck Hunter

Some ATV action!!!

2009-11-01T19:32:00.007-05:00

In spite of the lousy weather we have been having, I did get out for a ride with my great buddy Tim on the new Rails to Trails project in Washington County, Maine. Still in the works, much of the project is complete and pristine with miles and miles of top quality trails for all the general public to use. So whether you enjoy hiking, running, trail riding, or any other activity, these trails offer a broad range of uses for our area.

I've been able to use these trails on several occasions and feel that as long as the ATV community treats this as a privilege and not a right of access, then I anticipate a lifetime of enjoyable use.

There are a couple of things I need to comment on concerning the video below. First and foremost, I did not wear a helmet today as state law does not require one to do so but I typically wear one if we are riding in difficult terrain or/and at higher speeds. Our travels today did not exceed 25-30 mph on top notch gravel roads, only two access roads that we used to get a snack were of lesser quality. Secondly, we use these trails with respect to others and those who have made it possible for us to enjoy. Without a community of caring, this project has provided a means for ATV usage while negating the issues of private land access. Even though there has been dissent about tearing up the historic and potentially usable railroad lines, I feel that this effort has been well received. Enjoy the video!!!

From the Maine Department of Transportation:
At the initial public scoping meetings in Washington County, a strong desire was expressed for ATV use on the Downeast Trail. In order to try to respond to that request, all terrain vehicle (ATV) use of the two dirt rail-with-trail segments in Washington County is proposed on an experimental basis. The experimental basis will be to insure that ATV use does not affect the safety of non-motorized users nor substantially deteriorate the trail surface such that non-motorized use becomes difficult. The existing ATV clubs in Washington County are seen as essential partners in assisting with the construction and maintenance of the dirt-trail segments and in responding to emergency situations on remote areas of the trail as well as promoting good trail etiquette among motorized users. The proposed reconciliation of motorized and non-motorized usage in select areas will open up the corridor to more user groups. The portions open to ATVs will serve as test sections for the concept of shared use. Transportation enhancement funds from the U.S. Department of Transportation can not be used to fund construction of these trail segments because of a prohibition on motorized vehicles (other than snowmobiles).

Feel free to check out this site concerning the Rails to Trails Program.
Press Release from Maine Department of Conservation

2009-10-29T13:45:00.003-04:00

My deer camera is about the only thing having some success...

Being limited to my hunting possibilities by choice is tough enough, but not being able to participate on the days you intend makes for one frustrated Downeast Duck Hunter...

I did manage to get out on October 2nd and 3rd with the Maine Outdoorsman for some freshwater action, but I'm not a freshwater duck hunter. The only chance I've had was Columbus Day weekend, Monday October 12th to be precise. And that day happened because a break in the weather opened up a mid-day opportunity (which usually doesn't result in many ducks)...

So here I sit stewing about the weather again as the National Weather Service has provided me with again such great news:

COASTAL WATERS FORECAST
NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE CARIBOU ME
1002 AM EDT THU OCT 29 2009

SYNOPSIS FOR EASTPORT ME TO STONINGTON ME OUT 25 NM

HIGH PRES WILL CROSS THE WATERS THIS AFTERNOON AND TONIGHT. THE
HIGH WILL MOVE SE OF THE WATERS ON FRI. A STRONG COLD FRONT WILL
APPROACH FRI NIGHT AND SAT AND MOVE ACROSS THE WATERS SAT NIGHT.
HIGH PRES WILL RETURN EARLY NEXT WEEK.

FRI NIGHT
SW WINDS 15 TO 20 KT...INCREASING TO 20 TO 25 KT
AFTER MIDNIGHT. SEAS 2 TO 3 FT...BUILDING TO 3 TO 5 FT AFTER
MIDNIGHT.

SAT
SW WINDS 20 TO 25 KT...INCREASING TO 25 TO 30 KT IN THE
AFTERNOON. SEAS 4 TO 7 FT...BUILDING TO 6 TO 9 FT IN THE
AFTERNOON.

Translation, this stinks...

It has seemed that every potential Saturday has had either a serious small craft advisory or gale warning affixed to it. So for the man who loves his sea ducking, I've got three eiders to my season total (2 drakes and one hen). The split for all other ducks started on Saturday and won't open back up until November 9th so I'm out of luck. It's been a bad October for sea duck hunting, I hope November and a few vacation days makes up for the withdrawals turning me inside out.

Game Time...

2009-10-23T13:20:00.004-04:00

Upon the rouse to vigilance and action by the Duck Hammer, I felt horrible. The kind of awful when you wish your least favorite person in the world shared your symptoms. There would be no whining in front of the DuckPower Jester, nor would I even let out an inkling of my pain and suffering. But it's true, I had come down with a cold attacking my throat and sinuses. Fortunately, I had a few extra Zyrtec and some Afrin to hide my anguish. For somebody who doesn't get sick often, a few days sooner or later would have been a more pleasant demise. My day, however, would not be compromised on the account of illness.

The water level compared to last year was down quite a bit and I was able to shimmy across to the marsh point where the blind “Quack Head” hid in masterfully concealed coverture. Steve manned the boat and brought it around to give MoJo, the flying decoy, life before our witching hour could begin. Upon his return, we sorted out the little stuff and hunkered down for the first flight.

It didn't take long for us to unleash the cannons of dismay, but our first ordnance failed with great surprise. The small flock of teal continued on their way as if not one shot had been fired, however I did manage to snipe a low flyer moving right to left just after our trigger happy blunder. Steve was quite impressed with that shot, but it honestly was no different than the bulk of the sea ducks I take. Low flying without lift is immensely different than the actions of these inland birds. I still thanked Steve and eagerly watched as Onyx began the retrieve of my first ever teal.

As any duck hunter knows, much action took place between the timing of Onyx's retrieve. As an expert in arithmetic, I figure approximately 187 ducks must have flown directly over the decoys. That might have been a mild exaggeration, but it did seem a little “duck” wild. Quickly thereafter, Steve and I each scored a scaup duck, ring necks to be more precise. So for my earliest trigger pulls, I had two types of waterfowl that were brand new to my taking.

A few later mallards fell prey, and we quickly watched the morning dissipate. The lake would render no more birds and we opted to better amend base camp. Plus the Duck Hammer was suggesting he would head back home to get a few more amenities. It would seem that mid-day on the island would be only mine to share.

From the landing to the late evening...

2009-10-19T08:09:00.005-04:00

The Rabid Outdoorsman Leads the Way
It didn't take long for my esteemed and pathological prankster friend to add insult to injury. The truck came to a screeching halt and a jubilant individual remembered the other part of his targeted plan. Since today was opening day and a Thursday, I had forgone this sacred opener to attend the weekend Duckpower conference in Central Maine. However, my buddy had in fact already hunted out of the same blind we would be attending for the next two days. He had to show me his quarry which consisted of two wood ducks (a duck that I have always wanted to take). As hurt as one may think I was, I just shook my head as the proud hunter put the mature drake into the freezer for taxidermy purposes while we were to enjoy the other as part of our fare that evening.

We reached the landing in no time and quickly put the foldable boat into the water. It was here that I got my first step in the super magnum ultra camo super cool waders (too cool for commas). To be brutally honest, it was a great feeling to go crotch deep and not get wet. Oh my god, that just sounded like a condom advertisement. I can see it now...

The Downeast Duck Hunter, “For full protection, I recommend the super magnum ultra camo super cool waders... Keeps the cold out and the heat in...”

Anyways, back to the story...

The sail out brought back so many memories of just one year ago, the foliage seemed identical in it's wondrous oranges, yellows, and reds. An absent wind left the still reflection of all colors in a kaleidoscope of intrigue. This was where I needed to be, for a moment in time I had forgotten the anxiousness that everyday life brings. As we motored towards our destination, several groups of our kind were hidden in the brush, grass, and trees along the shores of this paradise each in high hopes of harnessing one final shot before dusk beat the daylight.

Our race against light meant distributing the decoys in the proper avenue dictated by our most recent weather forecast, setting up the basic amenities of camp, and Steve making another trip back to the landing to acquire his four legged allergy machine. Stuffiness had already taken it's toll and even though I love water dogs, my body seems to tell me that one isn't in my future.

Once all was best prepared, the evening festivities begun. The meal would consist of a chili concoction of sharp cheddar cheese, added tabasco sauce, and other spices I would rather leave at the supermarket. But it did smell so good and the stomach was not happy that I had just invested in a three hour trip with no stops. The chili was devoured without hesitation and the wood duck was roasted over the open fire. Over the years, I have found that there exists no better substitute for cooking wild game than the efforts served by a generous flame. One difference between Steve and I is that he prefers his take a tad more raw while I enjoy a more medium prize with a charred exterior. But let me tell you this, I would have taken that duck over any top restaurant steak. Plus I had hoped the duck would have been a good buffering agent to the atomic agent Steve called chili. Actually, I would be more inclined to name it Chili Con Carnage...

As the clouds proceeded overhead and the darkness beat the light, we rested around the campfire chatting about anything and everything. This time spent with a great friend makes a good hunt great. We hammered out a few of the world's problems, reflected upon a few of our own, and provoked some potential aspirations out of each other as we continue our trek as experienced outdoorsman...

Even though my dear friend has and will constantly look for an avenue to shatter my personal well being through harassment and sinister actions, Steve and I share a friendship based on honesty, respect, and support. Our words on these hunts look for improvement, positive angles, and dreams. Although reality often acts as our ground, we never let the negativity of life dictate or negate the experience.

After some Youtube entertainment and browsing Facebook on the traditionalist's Blackberry, we elected to call it a night. Opening light would be five hours in time...

A Tradition Officially

2009-10-14T13:56:00.005-04:00

First ever female blue winged teal...

The 2nd annual season opener in central Maine proved to be quite the trip, as it exceeded the success of year one and proved to be one great time. For a salty sea ducker like myself, I have found one great appreciation in the pursuit of different waterfowl.

Once again, my great friend Steve effectively illustrated his continued development of duck calling, mastery of training a house dog into a gem of a water dog, and his never ending pursuit of material that could be potentially damaging to my reputation as a beacon of greatness in the duck hunting world. With that said, let me begin the tale of how two men of different and similar directions maximum the opportunities while attempting to minimize the damage.

Part One: You are a DUCK WAD!!!

Duck Wad (n): a fellow duck hunter and friend who relishes the opportunity to mess with other members of his triad...

I should have known better, but I was sort of excited. After constantly checking the U.S. Post Office confirmation number from Cabelas, my voyage to central Maine included a brand new set of super waders with more gadgets than the Batman’s belt. They had been received at my post office at 8:38 and the box rested unopened in the passenger’s seat. They would be opened at Steve’s house, there would be no time to complete the official fitting for this technological weapon of duck warfare. Leak or no leak, I would be putting the test directly in the field, or lake if you will.

After 2:45 minutes of driving, I ripped into Steve’s driveway anticipating some sort of welcoming committee. Last year I was met with excitement from all family members as your truly had made a most impressive visit, however my hopes and dreams of appreciation were incinerated with a silent and lackluster reception. As I neared the basement door of my buddy’s abode completely decked out in some super cool waterfowling apparel, I thought maybe Steve was frantically working to finish some very important details to speed our departure to our campsite.

Having stood by the door for what seemed to be at least fifteen minutes, I finally noticed someone meander down the steps and approach the door in just a set of thermal underwear. It would seem as if someone was running a bit behind. Needless to say, the grandeur of my arrival was lackluster and desolate; there I stood with my package that beneath the plastic shipping wrap was a set of waders that would set me light years ahead of my clan in terms of duck hunting fashion. This moment didn't have the shine and bling of last year.

Steve took the box and invited me in, I told him to get started on opening the package as I had to find the restroom. After doing my business, aggravating his wife & kids, and shuttling down the steps, there stood Steve looking honestly stumped at a pair of waders that were a tad earthern and only 600 grams of insulation. His only comment was, “dude, I think they made a mistake or someone made a rip-off return”. My heart sunk seriously, all the excitement I had since my order on Monday to the official delivery on Thursday had deflated like a balloon pricked by a needle.

Then he smiled and handed me the unwrapped but unopen box of waders. I had been had, fallen prey to the self-righteous comic of pain and suffering. My response was bitter-sweet as I got a tickle out of Steve’s quick thinking but knew this was only the beginning of a camping trip full of predatory follies. The waders got a quick fitting and I walked out the door while the Maine Outdoorsman maintained a grin that reeked of bathroom demise.

We got the remainder of the gear into the back of the truck and rolled down the driveway to the landing just down the road... My good friend is a “duck wad”...

Next entry- Chili Con Carnage...

The rebuttal of the Maine Outdoorsman's "Mr. President" post...

2009-10-03T17:18:00.005-04:00

If any of you read both the Maine Outdoorsman and my blog, then you may know that these two birds are of the same feather. There are many reasons why we fly in the same flock, and our slight humor cast upon each other only adds to the trouble. Nevertheless, let me plagerize some of Rabid's quotes from one of his most recent posts. This was from his well tuned work, "Mr. President"...

Perhaps even more nerve wracking than my mental fatigue from my fitful evenings is the physical exhaustion I am suffering as I prepare the estate for a visit from the Honorable Potentate and Grand Puba . . . the most admirable and exalted President of Duck Power Incorporated. Yes folks, none other than the DuckMan will be joining me for the 2009/10 waterfowl opener.

Translation: I'm pretty cool...

As I await the arrival of Mr. President, I begin to go over the checklist to insure every detail no matter how small has been rightly accounted.

Reality Check: Rabid's gear was already packed and he shot two wood ducks on opening day out of the very same blind we shared for the last two days...

I drill the children with the proper sounds made by Mallards, Teal and Wood Ducks and insure they are holding their popguns with the “dangerous end” pointing in a safe direction.

Lots of laughs: His littlest one looked at me as if I was a serial killer and his oldest ran out of the room...

Hurriedly, I grab for the camouflage (Max 4 Adv.) carpet and unfurl it to the door of Mr. President’s transport. I take a deep breath and wait for the inspection to begin.

Just an FYI: The only welcome I got was a scruffy old mat and a locked door...

Wish me luck!!

Stay tuned for our two day opener!!!

Will they be here in time???

2009-09-30T14:13:00.004-04:00

I had to do it, so many times I've seen my buddies jumping into the water and come out as comfortable as can be. I've order the Cabelas 1600 gram waders on the very back of their waterfowl catalogue, and hope they arrive by tomorrow. I went with the bad boys simply because most of my hunting is in quite frigid weather and one of my buddies who guides said they are worth three times what they are asking. I had anticipated paying $200, but with a sale and a $20 off coupon, I scored them for $175 including tax and shipping. Here are some of the features:

1,600-gram Thinsulate™ Ultra Insulation
5mm neoprene with Armor-Flex™
quick detach shell pouch with 24 shell loops
fleece lined handwarmer pocket
top entry storage pouch
three front compartments
handwarmer pocket

Personally, I look forward to using these and honestly believe this purchase will pay dividends on both inland and coastal waters.

The Downeast Duck Hunter

It's on!!!

2009-09-29T16:19:00.006-04:00

The new duckmobile... uh, the new family vehicle... I would have cropped the picture but wanted to show the eider decoys in the background!!!

Once again yours truly, the Downeast Duck Hunter, will travel downstate to hunt with my esteemed buddy, critic, and hunting partner, the Rabid Outdoorsman...

A comical but sincere effort had taken place last year as we both wrote articles from our own perspective in regards to our participation in opening day, from preparation to endgame. This year should be no different, but after 365 days of joking, teasing, harassment, and other ventures, I would also suggest that our literature could take on a whole new direction. We shall see...

Rather than focus on opening day like last year, we have decided to make our hunting efforts a weekend event that will consist of two full days of hunting bliss. Some may ask why not opening day and I would respond that day 2 and 3 consecutively works better than day 1, work, and then day 3.

On any account, get ready for some of the world's worst coffee, some jabbing, and most of all a great reflection from two great friends who enjoy the outdoors as much as anybody. Until our next article, take care!!!

The Downeast Duck Hunter

Big Week, Big News...

2009-09-22T21:37:00.004-04:00

I'm happy to announce that positive things are happening in my writing world aside of my super cool blog. Over the course of last week and early this week, I have had the opportunity to establish a wonderful dialogue with the owner and editor of one of Maine's most acclaimed and prestigious outdoor publications, the Northwoods Sporting Journal. After some submissions, reviews, and discussion, it looks as if my first article will run this December. Even though I'm not jumping through the door, I'm so excited to be joining a genre I so admire. If all goes well, I hope to be a monthly contributor in the near future.

I would personally like to thank my hunting partner and great friend, the Rabid Outdoorsman, who encouraged me to start my blog shortly after he began a most interesting and informative online resource. His continued practice there then led him to several full page spreads as a promising writer. His endeavors and our long friendship have greatly influenced my aspirations and I thank him for his continued support.

In addition, my wife deserves much credit to support each and every endeavor I pursue. Without her support, I'm not sure how well my efforts would pan out. Hopefully with this new career blossuming, maybe I'll get to hunt and fish a little more.

And finally, to each and every fellow blogger out there including Terry at Women's Hunting Journal, Tugboatdude, and Swamp Thing who have been regular responders to my articles, thanks for being part of my online community. I look forward to our continued dialogue.

Trouble is brewing...

2009-09-17T19:20:00.005-04:00

I'm still laughing, and you may appreciate this one!!! I just happened to type in "Carry-Lite eider decoys" on Google after my official "repair the damage day" to my existing spread. To my surprise just under a couple of most excellent links to my blog was this add on Craigslist for five dozen 19 inch eider decoys in the mid-coast area of Maine. The list price was $240 for the entire bunch or $48 for a dozen. After some fast email exchanges, I've landed only SIX dozen for a total price of $300. What is most exciting is that my brother-in-law picked up the decoys for me and threw them on his credit card while my check to him is in the mail. However, he must hold them for a bit until we can best figure out how to transport them.

The most exciting thing for me is that the most comparable decoy as I believe Carry-Lite no longer makes the eider line is from Knutson's Decoy (be sure to scroll down). The price for a dozen there is $99.99 a dozen not including shipping, so I'd say i've made out.

It took my brother two trips to transport these, but his pain and suffering is well worth my investment!!!

Now you see it, now you don't...

2009-09-04T17:49:00.003-04:00

Needless to say, I've gotten hit with the hunting bug this month and realized that all the hunting to do's didn't get done this summer. I've been trying to mesh several jobs, family time, and all other necessary aspects with much exasperation. Fortunately, I didn't have work tonight and my wife encouraged me to seize the few minutes before dusk to "finish that kayak"!!!

So here's the fruit of my labor, a bright orange kayak covered with eight marsh grass panels from Cabelas.

I bet you can't guess who was the supervisor of my project...

I did take some time this past weekend to spray paint my paddles as to conceal the bright yellow ends.

Now it's time to finish my new boat blind system to adjoin the new motor on the seaduck boat and finish repairing the Carry-Lite Eider Decoys for my friends can't tell the difference between a quality painted drake eider and the real thing!!!

More posts to come...

The Down East Duck Hunter

The Kayak...

2009-09-02T13:39:00.003-04:00

Over the past year I decided that I must have three main items to fulfill my personal happiness. The first was an oil painting that was completed my one of my former students this past spring, now I've got to get a second one because my wife says I've got two girls and one nice painting! The second is a Super Redhawk and that will have to wait simply because a house needs to be finished and a new vehicle is in our near future.

The final item on my list was to get a new kayak, particularly the Old Town Ambush canoe/kayak. That didn't happen but I did fall into a pretty sweet deal. Let me share this gem of a story...

My wife calls me from her hometown as she and my children were staying her mother after the passing of my father-in-law. She had seen an advertisement for a kayak on the local cable channel and thought I would be interested in calling. I really wasn't for I figured it would be some old kayak that someone was trying to dump at a price no one wanted to pay, but with some encouragement I did call.

I spoke with a pleasant man who explained that his friend had bought an Old Town Adventure 13'9" several years ago and had a stroke the following year. They had hoped for a better recovery, but using the kayak seemed futile with each passing year. The orange kayak with paddle, lifevest, security lock, and gear was offered at $379 and my counter offer of $350 was accepted. I can honestly say that I'm not big on the orange, but I can easily make the kayak disappear with some marsh grass mats I had purchased from Cabelas. I'm quite pleased with the purchase and have found it's stability very impressive.

I intend to post shortly with the camouflaging with in itself has been a neat process. Sorry about the lack of posting, it hasn't been a great summer...

The Downeast Duck Hunter

A most special and amazing man...

2009-07-07T08:13:00.008-04:00

A most talented musician primarily jazz music

The Downeast Duck Hunter Blog is all about friends, family, and a passion for duck hunting, and this post is no different. However, it isn't loaded with a limit of ducks or a six pound smallmouth bass. Rather it is to acknowledge the life and passing of one of my most cherished and loved friends. On the Fourth of July, my father-in-law passed after a brilliant and tedious battle with cancer. Even though it hurts to see him go, I am appreciative that he may suffer no longer. His participation in my life gave me a better understanding of what it means to live life like it's your last day.

When I first met Donnie, I had only been dating my lovely wife for about three weeks and was fairly nervous because for the first time in my life I had met a girl that I could see myself marrying. I couldn't afford to drop the ball on this one. Needless to say, I walked out of his house with a smile.

There I was sitting on the couch in the den as her dad arrived from making errands. He wasn't a large man in comparison to me, but he carried himself with a proud honor that wouldn't be compromised. I stood up to shake his hand and while he looked up, he put his hand forward and offered me a beer with these words, "Can I offer you a cold one?". Not once in my life had I been introduced to any girl's father and felt ever so relieved. I told him if he didn't mind, I would love to have one.

We chatted about everything, actually it was more of him in a unique way of assessing me. He asked me of my career plans, passions, and family. From the beginning, I enjoyed his company. It would be with this meeting, that my wife went from a casual dating relationship to something more. He won my favor for his daughter, I could then see an opportunity to move forward with a great relationship.

Following this short visit, my wife smiled and informed me that she felt great about the visit. After all, she's an only child and I was after his most prized possession. Needless to say, I wasn't about to let this family get away from me.

Over time, Donnie and I built a relationship that many son-in-laws would wish they had. We combed the lakes of downeast Maine chasing trout, bass, and salmon by avenue of ice or water. His passion for fishing was unlike anything I had ever seen, for me it was something I did as something to do but he loved casting lines and setting ice traps. He explained the process of fishing and the time tested tactics to help land more fish. One of my favorite quotes from Donnie centered around the timing of brook trout in Maine, "Every evening in the spring walk out into the woods, until you come home pestered with black flies don't you dare cast a worm". Over time and trial, he was right. He saved me many failures and allowed for greater success just through his experience.

A proud grandfather on the ice
Click the above link to this experience

It would be of most importance for me to share that he became a best friend, one who I would ask many questions and always get a level response. As my wife and I continued our courtship into engagement and marriage, her parents became my biggest supporters while I continued to build my career and business. Never was Donnie so proud when I launched my new lobster boat or when I attained my Master's degree, it seems that every achievement in life came with him patting my back and suggesting that I may want to go after something else. My staunchest ally and friend, Donnie became a father and I will never forget the gleam in his eye when I proudly displayed a wedding ring in front of him. The only criticism I got from him was "about time".

Several years ago, our family discovered that Donnie had cancer. Even with this tragic news, he took it in stride. It amazed me with his courage and attitude, but he had fought setbacks his entire life. This would be no different, either choose to life or accept the alternative and he wasn't about to lose out on the earliest years of his grandchildren. We as a family fought, he as a beacon of strength fought. Never have I seen such a small man fight like a giant, he was a David against Goliath. There were better days, and not so memorable ones. But he seized the better ones and made memories.

Eventually the man who know almost everything about anything whether it be boat building, welding, construction, iron working, mechanics, electricity, music, and anything else would have to submit. Terminal is just that, and even when one choses to live with cancer as opposed to die with cancer, time is limited. He passed peacefully with his family by his side.

The skiff he started for me

The final product

Donnie was essential to the development of my being, he played a large role in my life long process to be the best father, husband, and man I aspire to become. Life without you Papa isn't going to easy and I've got a lot of weight on my shoulders but I promise you that your girls will be okay. My life has been enriched because of you, for that I thank you and I'll find you on the dock when my time comes. God bless you and rest in peace best friend, until then I will continue to make our family stronger, safer, and secure.

Eiders in Oil- God Love It!!!

2009-06-22T18:44:00.002-04:00

So the work is complete and officially in my possession!!!

I intend to do a better write up soon about the experience and process, but wanted to get the photograph of this work up fast. Enjoy, I'm almost as excited looking at it as I would at early light in November!!!

The Downeast Duck Hunter

Picture Perfect...

2009-05-18T20:16:00.003-04:00

So I had this student last year graduate and attend art school in southern Maine. I always told her that sportsmen, including us hunters, do enjoy art especially within the scope of outdoor scenery and game. After telling her that if I have money to buy a $1,400 shotgun or a $700 kayak, chances are that a nice oil painting of some eiders flying past a ledge over some decoys with a sunrise in the background would be an easy purchase.

I never thought she'd take my challenge on, but she's been at work for the past few weeks off and on in the evenings while back home for summer break.

This work, still in the early stages, shows her amazing talent and I'm proud to know that I'm getting the very first of her paintings in this outdoors genre. Keep checking in, this progress is being photographed in transit!!!

The Downeast Duck Hunter

Turkey Tales...

2009-05-14T20:50:00.004-04:00

I don't really have much time to write a solid post about my experience in central Maine with the Rabid Outdoorsman, but I thought I'd share some photos and some statistics about my first ever turkey.

The young jake was taken at 6:40 a.m. and weighed 12 pounds 10 ounces. It had 1/8 inch spurs and a 3.5 inch beard. Not nearly a state record, but I said I'd take the first shooter that presented itself. Fortunately as I listened to the gobblers meander away, it didn't take long for some jakes to come visiting our decoys as we continued with a hen call. Many thanks to my great buddy Steve for allowing me the opportunity to share in a new and mildly addictive avenue of hunting. I'll be back next year for sure!

The Downeast Duck Hunter

Getting ready for turkey...

2009-04-26T18:49:00.007-04:00

In one week, I will be attending my second ever turkey hunt and the first one with one of my truest hunting buddies, The Rabid Outdoorsman aka DuckHammer. This one has been on the radar since the opener of ducks last fall, and I'm as excited as can be to try my hand at a big gobbler once again. And to top it off, my other great hunting partner Matt Diesel will be driving down with me. All I need to do is pick him up on the way.

Okay with that said, I decided to bring out the Beretta Xtrema2 for some target practice (target practice???) just to see how the #5 shot Federal 3.5 inch in 2 oz load would treat my homemade targets. The munchkins took the time to color them in and were quite proud of their good work, and was pleasantly surprised when my oldest suggested that these decoys would definitely bring in those turkeys. I had to tell them that Daddy was going to use them for target practice and they were excited to see how well I would fare.

On the bigger bird, I counted 80 shots from the top of the head down to the base of the neck. For the smaller one, I scored 76 shots and put the wad through it's lower chest. This was attained with a modified choke and about 20 yards away. After some thought about installing a factory full choke, I chose to stick with the modified spread. Rabid also explained that my locale would max out at about 20+/- yards anyways. After some basic research, I'm thinking that the #5 shot has a little over 300 pellets so I'll consider that fairly decent patterning with the modified choke.

Here's the photos from my trials, we'll see how the hunt goes and if the Maine Outdoorsman can put me onto a big tom. No pressure buddy!!!

My oldest daughter's turkey with 80 shots...

Close up

With light in the background

My youngest daughter's turkey with 76 shots

Close up

With light in the background

Easter Day Pictures...

2009-04-12T19:08:00.005-04:00

I know I suggested I'd be away for awhile in my last post, but I had to get these springtime ducks on the blog. Today, there was a drake blue winged teal, two drake wood ducks, and a number of residential mallards. For a guy who spends most of his time around eiders, scoters, old squaws, and other sea ducks, I don't get much of a chance to see these beauties. I believe this is the first recognized blue winged teal I've seen in my neck of the woods. But then again, I didn't spend the time or energy into duck identification as all my hunting used to be only in the Gulf of Maine.

I'd like to give a shout out to Bud and Mel who let me spend some time on their property, especially on such a special day.

Enjoy!!!

First wood duck of 09...

2009-04-10T21:22:00.002-04:00

I've been pretty lousy with the writing and must echo the same sentiments as my good buddy, the Maine Outdoorsman, who seems to have fallen off the planet. Even this A type has discovered that role strain isn't the best way to function. I'll be absent for some time as I won't be participating in anything outdoors until the lakes warm up enough to encourage the bass to become a little more active. Plus bass fishing in April is cold, it isn't like you can tuck in behind the blind, drink coffee, and enjoy the fact that you are super insulated.

I usually don't have a lot of trout luck until May when the hatches occur, so put that together with no hunting and I'm just the Downeast Dad, Dude, Director, and Do All.

Here the picture of the first wood duck of 09 taken by my daycare provider who has the neatest little pond going, too bad it's about 50 feet from her house because that qualifies it as a protected pond.

Till next time...

DEDH out

Letting go...

2009-03-21T21:18:00.006-04:00

Nannie with my oldest this past Halloween

We all deal with significant losses in our lifetime. Unfortunately, I fell victim to just that. This Thursday at 9:30 a.m. I lost my last grandparent, my Nannie. She had battled a multitude of complications these past few years in stride and finally she had to give up the good fight. As hard as it is right now, I'm okay. This post tonight will explain why...

Over the past month, Nannie went to the hospital several times and was admitted to the local nursing home to recuperate in hopes that her complications could at least be prolonged for a little more time. I visited whenever I could, it's difficult when you are holding two jobs, a family, and the responsibilities that adjoin both. We'd talk and share the time well, after all I was Nannie's boy and she'd light up when I walked through the door. In addition, I'd try to get my beauties in as often as I could. But this past week, she ended up back at the hospital tackling several complications which when treating two the other one would get worse. It seemed that she'd take one step forward, then two back. We remained optimistic however...

This past Tuesday, my father stopped in to give me the lowdown about her status and the information wasn't favorable. She had been transferred to the intensive care unit at another hospital to see if one more latch ditch effort could buy her kidneys more time. If the CAT scan looked promising, she'd be a candidate for a procedure that would eliminate some of the fluid...

I got the call at my after school program that the doctors were not going to do the procedure therefore cementing the fact that her time was limited. On my way home from work, I called my parents who were there to find out her status so that I could figure out my possibilities in visiting her. The update was bleak, but I decided that I had some things to say. The doctors had started a morphine drip to accommodate her pain and her responsiveness was fading...

I drove the 2 hours to the hospital picking up my mother in transit along the way only to find my grandmother heavily sedated and relatively peaceful. The nurse told me she could hear me but may not be able to communicate with me, but I took that news in stride and held her hand as I started to share my words with her. Every so often, she'd squeeze my hand to let me know she was listening...

By the grace of god during our time together, she began to fight for a greater ability to talk to me. Then her eyes opened slightly and gazed into mine, I knew this moment was critical. I kept telling her that I loved her, that my girls loved her, and how important she was to me. Her responses were so labored, muffled phrases but so clear to me. She kept telling me that she loved me, her eyes fighting to say open to see her boy. Then the pain increased and the nurse had to administer more medication to ease her suffering. I knew that when the drugs took effect, my window would be over...

It was about 9:30 at this point and I told her that I needed to go. I did tell her I'd get up tomorrow to see her, but the response that she gave me was "I can't do it" and with that I told her that it was okay for her to go...

I told her I loved her, she said the same and mustered the energy to raise her arms asking for a hug. I held her tight, kissed her, and for the last time in her life I told her that I loved her. She became more peaceful as the medication took action and I left the room knowing that this would be the last time I would hold my Nannie...

She passed the next morning while I was at school...

So often in life we consider the worst case scenario for our choices, but too often we neglect to do what is just plain right regardless of the consequences. I am so thankful that I didn't stay home that night and that I got there for that last visit. It was like she needed me to be there before she went to be with God. I'm okay now for my decision because she knew that her grandson was able to say goodbye and that I would see her again. But until then, I still have a lot of good work to accomplish and while I'm tearing up awful as I type this, she knows that the world is going to be better for my efforts...

Nannie, I love you and I will see you down the road. I miss you...

Near State Record...

2009-03-14T07:58:00.007-04:00

Bill Maynard Jr. with a 29.67-pound lake trout caught 3/10/2009

I had been visiting Beech Hill Pond several times this year in hopes of catching a massive togue, aka lake trout. After all, it is the state record holder with a behemoth over 30 pounds. Now I understand that this isn't even on the same page as some of those Canadian lakers, but nevertheless any thirty pound fish would be a memory maker. Actually, a ten pounder would tickle my belly. So far in my togue fishing career, I did land a six pound laker at West Grand Lake of off Hardwood Island back in 2001. But this post isn't about my success or lack there of...

A scare of the old record happened recently by Bill Maynard, Jr. on Moosehead Lake, I encourage you all to read the article as posted in the Bangor Daily News...

I'd have to say that I would have been a little perturbed, but then again who was to know that the record would have been challenged...

Tight lines.

The Downeastduckhunter

Guess it's no longer the deer camera...

2009-03-07T14:26:00.005-05:00

I decided to leave the deer camera out for one week and force myself to just leave it out in the woods. In all fairness, I actually had forgot that I had put out the device.

So today after conveniently realizing my neglect, I took a quick trip out to gather my Moultrie and connected it to my laptop. I was seriously surprised and excited to see what I caught on film. However I was frustrated that the big buck track I found about one hundred feet away from the camera didn't make it's way into the flash. Oh well, his time is coming.

I should have known better...

2009-03-05T14:45:00.006-05:00

I found out yesterday afternoon what it feels like to take a tennis ball to the eye. Yours truly wasn't paying attention, bent over to grab a ball, leaned up, and flash. I know I yelped, for it stung quite well. After heading to the bathroom and inspecting a bloodshot eye with a high degree of pain, it became apparent that I needed to get to my eye doctor.

When all was said and done, I hadn't seriously injured my eye but got hit hard enough to warrant a good dose of inflammation. The drops my eye doctor gave me last night left my right eye quite dilated. So today while I was home I thought I'd show my great friend, The Rabid Outdoorsman, the fruits of my labor with an attached photo. After some "crude" exchanges, he got the last laugh as I now am the proud recipient of one of his photoshopped wonders.

Here's the before picture... .

and what it quickly became..

I do hope that socialism fails... or at least that Rabid misses a trophy buck next fall...

The Big 33... Part Two

2009-02-22T10:45:00.009-05:00

The best part of getting my daughter involved in the activities I do is that I can adjust the practice to her level. That may mean shortening the time, watching the weather, leaving a little bit later, returning a bit sooner, and throwing in some of the amenities of home. That may result in swimsuit Barbie tagging along for a snowmobile ride, but if that's the arrangement then so be it. I'd go ice fishing with Barney, Elmo, Diego, Dora, and Big Bird if it means introducing my beauties to hunting and fishing. The key I have found is immersion with avenues to transition. Let me explain...

Before we even got to the lake, a pit stop to a local store resulted in a shopping spree of all things important. My daughter leads the way, determines what is essential for survival, and I only offer suggestions. She owns this portion of the day, without her input then fishing can't be fun. In doing so, we aren't necessarily eating well but nutrition isn't my concern here. Creating avenues to enhance the entire spectrum allows for a great connectivity to our time together. On a sidebar, my daughter also took the time at the checkout to inform everybody around us that her daddy was thirty-three today. It may seem questionable, but I believe that this is an early effort to promote leadership. Not bad for a four year old, picking our food and proud to inform the public that we are going ice fishing on daddy's birthday...

We met up with my father-in-law and his good friend, Vaughn, shortly thereafter. After traveling north through the blueberry barrens, we reached the lake and quickly unloaded. Before the guys had even unloaded the snowmobile, we had already hiked out to the island (well I hiked, towed, and sweat) and started drilling a few holes. Before long, the traps were in and the portable ice shack went up without a hitch...

I joked to Vaughn that before my daughter and I were finished tending the traps, we'd have a flag. He laughed, but I held true to my promise as the third trap tended sprang up while we checked the bait on the seventh tip up. The bait was stolen, but trout tend to stay where the food exists and this one would be caught. Three baits later an eight inch brook trout sprang from the hole and my daughter had the first part of her limit...

The men quickly took heed to my advice and checked there traps as well. But before they had anymore luck, another flag sprang up in my daughters line of traps. Here is where I realized another factor in turning on kids to being in the outdoors, maximize the success to minimize the disappointment...

Rather than hastily set the hook, I allowed for a little extra time for the trout to take the bait. These trout have been finicky and experience has taught that patience pays off. Plus it gave me some time to set up the video camera so that I could get this on film. What person doesn't love having a memorable experience caught on tape? I wish that my first deer had been recorded. Anyways, here's the product of our good work...

This was the second trout for my daughter which meant by law, her traps had to be pulled out. While doing this, a flag in Vaughn's row produced a brilliant 15 inch brook trout, the biggest I had seen all season. I swear this one alone was larger than the three my daughter and I had scored...

I had been watching the clock and monitoring my daughter's barometer of interest. By noontime, it became apparent that my limit would not be satisfied and my father-in-law had not even seen a flag. After some discussion, it was agreed that our day would end. The wind had picked up and even though we were at the leeward side of the island, the temperature still dropped. Within minutes, we are were packed up and commuted back to the trucks utilizing the snowmobile...

So in 3 hours of fishing, we managed four brook trout at 8, 10, 11, and 15 inches long respectively. In addition, my daughter got to show her papa how it's done and participate in an activity that really does define my father-in-law. I look forward to our next outing, but I need to figure out how to immerse a two-year old into the mix. She's ready to go, but she's going to be some work!!!

Have a great day,

The Downeast Duck Hunter

The Big 33...

2009-02-21T15:24:00.008-05:00

I really don't know how to start this article, maybe that today I turned thirty-three years old. That aside, I chose to spend my birthday out on the ice with my oldest daughter, Lauren. However, I did give my father-in-law a call last night to see if he'd be interested in chasing some brook trout. It didn't take long for a confirmation and the plans were set for us to meet by 9:15, then a quick venture to my favorite trout hole. This is the basic story, it goes far more deeper though...

My father-in-law gave me ice fishing, when I got married I became part of his family. With that came some outdoor activities like snowmobiling, canoeing, and most of all: freshwater fishing, both on the open water and over the ice. We went all the time, ventured locally and afar sometimes hitting some of the premier spots in Eastern Maine. He's a man of many talents, but his level of patience with a young, eager, and aspiring fisherman would pay off as now I have realized my successes. But this story goes deeper than this...

My wife and I moved back to my hometown which amounted to an extra one-half hour distance between households. Starting a family also put a major dent on our ice fishing, but that's how it goes. We'd try to find time and made the most of the few hours I could muster. Then in the midst of a hectic life, my father-in-law began a fight with cancer. It's hard to see and fathom how a fight to live takes so much energy, time, and patience, but I've watched a man assert that he is living with cancer and a man who wants to see his grandchildren grow....

Today became very special to watch my daughter run around the tip ups with her Papa. It's a day we all have been patiently waiting for, and for me to be able to photograph the two together meant the world. So to sum up my birthday, I am absolutely appreciative that my father-in-law chose to spend his day with us. Thank you Don, this may have been a special day for you to share with your little girl, but understand how special it was for me to see my little girl spend the day with you. We knew the day was coming, I thank god for how perfect it was...

I intend to write another post tomorrow about the details of the day, but needed to share the importance of this day. My 33rd birthday...

Have a great day,
The Downeast Duck Hunter

Hey Rabid!!!

2009-02-18T09:45:00.008-05:00

If you have been following The Maine Outdoorsman's blog, then you may know he has a fixation on the Cabelas Big Book, or lack there of. He's got polls about it and has created blog entries about not getting one. So today is a special day, I'm happy to announce that I will be donating my Limited Spring Edition 2009 as a thank you- to a very special customer to my buddy Steve. No longer will he have to suffer man shopping withdrawals or write angry posts about never getting one. Cheers good buddy!!!

On another note, I've got some write-ups in the works such as some old squaw sled decoys an 83 year old made for me and my most recent ice fishing trip to the beholder of the Maine state record lake trout. Till then, have a great day!!!

Best Day Ever!!!

2009-02-07T14:51:00.004-05:00

In a recent interview by Terry Scoville of the Women's Hunting Journal , I was asked a very challenging question pertaining to how I best introduce my girls to the world of hunting and fishing. It's not easy to do this especially when my girls are 4 and 2, but I can attest to one major factor when it comes to getting our next generation turned on to this traditional lifestyle. We must get our youngsters outdoors and within that scope, be sure to participate at their level. Talk to them about what you plan to do with the fish, catch & release or give your fish to the grandparents. Foster a discussion about that the time is special and if you do not find good fortunes, then there will always be another time. Show excitement that can not be trumped, this day is a pair of aces in your hand and nothing can beat it.

I finally got a pleasant day for some ice fishing. The temperature found itself in the mid-30's and there was little if any wind. My oldest daughter and I left home around 9:00 a.m. for the one half hour trip to one of my favorite brook trout lakes. We picked up all the necessary provisions such as doughnuts, chips, cookies, and well, you get the picture. There was no way any fruit was on this trip!!!

Once we hit the landing, the gear quickly moved to two sleds for a two thousand feet trek and with my little beauty in one of them, I plowed through some snow drifts and broke the top layer more times than I wished to count. However, we managed to get to my spot without a hitch and quickly started drilling a few holes. In no time, we put the traps in and set up my portable ice shack. Soon thereafter, we dove into the goodies and witnessed our first flag. I then knew that today was going to be special.

Within about two hours time, we managed four trout (the legal limit for this lake) and then spent some time making snow angels, snow mountains, and a little high speed sledding with daddy as the horsepower. My little girl smiled the entire time, it didn't matter if it was the first brook trout she caught or just sitting next to me in the shack. Her day seemed every bit as special as mine.

So if you are wondering about the future participation of a 4 year old in terms of ice fishing, I'm pleased to announce that I better ask her the next time I plan on going. With that said, the very next day of good weather will promise another venture. But I think maybe I'll bring my youngest as well, her older sister said she'd show how it's done!!!

Here's a few pictures of our success and I am so thrilled that we were blessed with one special day.

The Deer Camera...

2009-01-25T12:31:00.004-05:00

After several trials with the Moultrie game camera, I figured it was about time to try out some other features other than the multi-shot still images. So I fired up the video feature and put it back out to the proven trail. Today, my oldest and I went out to grab it and I got a little worked up after noticing a decent buck track to the right of the camera. After review, it seems as if the buck didn't want to set off the video. But I did manage to get this nice clip, I particularly enjoyed the alerted stomp and then the nose lick...

Bad weather were having... yup....

2009-01-23T18:22:00.006-05:00

A quick trip to grab the deer cam...

In my neck of the woods as with almost any conversation in America, the weather is the backbone of many conversations. Whether it be the introduction, an insertion, or an act of closure, our daily and seasonal changes in temperature, precipitation, and wind connect us all. Today for me is no different, the weather we have been having has been nothing short of good (please insert sarcasm)...

You hope for a good weekend, especially a Saturday (no Sunday hunting, but fishing is permitted) but my weatherman has consistently brought crappy news. So, with all the cold, bitter winds, and ample snow, I've conceded any future duck hunting with future hopes of ice fishing...

However, there became one positive note since my last post. Enough snow held after our last storm followed by a surprising day of sunshine and moderate temperatures to warrant a day of sledding. My wife and I took the munchkins, 4 & 2, to a hill for some gravitational excitement. Two hours later, the rosy cheeked beauties informed me that they were “tired, hungry, and ready to go home”.

I'm a die hard duck hunter, but if I could repeat that two hours every Saturday... I'd have to leave the gun in the case...

Look for my interview by Terry Scoville of Women's Hunting Journal next week!!!

Take care,

The Downeast Duck Hunter

Time, Consideration, and a Wish List....

2009-01-08T09:53:00.005-05:00

Today, I took a few minutes to browse the web pages of www.cabelas.com on a mission to find items that 1) I may not own but would like to get, 2) could enhance my experience in the outdoors, and 3) not necessarily apply to duck hunting. Most recently I purchased a Northern Flight boat blind for my former duck hunting boat that currently sits in mothball. I'm a frequent flier at Cabelas and purchase almost all my hunting and fishing supplies there with a high degree of satisfaction. With the exception of Rabid's issue with a firearm (see his agony on Gun Woes...), I haven't heard of many problems with this company. Nevertheless, here's what I came up with without going into heavy research mode.

1) A buck deer decoy
On a very interesting day, I found myself with a mature doe centered in a spot that I had broadcasted estrus scent. Within a few minutes, a loud sniffing noise brought a massive buck straight to the spot. The buck was in full rut and it's neck was swollen beyond recognition. This perhaps was the largest deer I have ever seen, the problem was that it had no rack just a mushroom on one side and a little spike less than three inches on the other. I had seen this deer two years prior, but I had no antlerless permit so it meandered away. But this year proved quite interesting as it circled around the scent and pursued the doe. Shortly thereafter, I heard a contesting grunt. Immediately, I returned with some grunts of my own. The big deer suddenly wasn't sure what to think and actually charged the doe. After a heated exchange of aggressive grunts between me and the unknown buck, a young 8 pointer sprang out of the woods into the shooting lane directly at the bigger buck. Within seconds, I had dispatched the buck. Although the larger deer wasn't a shooter, it had given me a deer that I never knew existed. Since then, I have wondered about putting a buck deer decoy within range of my stand and using buck urine as an attractant.

2) A camouflage life vest
I may catch hell for this and for a man who spends much of my life on the water recreationally and professionally, I have life jackets surrounding me but rarely wear one. I know that the only life jacket that can save you is the one on your body and I intend to become a better advocate of a simple practice. I believe that an effective life vest that properly fits and aides in effective concealment is the way to go. This will be my next purchase.

3) A water filter for the outdoors
I'm not much of an outdoorsman, but as the girls get older I'd like to get them out into the woods. I usually pack more than enough water on my adventures, however this seems to be an interesting asset to any outdoors kit. About ten years ago when I was hiking towards Mount Katahdin (the highest point in Maine), I met a person who let me refill my water bottles with a water filter. It worked well and I didn't die, so this seems like a really neat device.

4) An all-weather lighter
The reason for this is that there have been times when I wished I had one. Either the matches were not working well, or a disposable lighter wasn't available. I figure if one has a nice quality lighter with them at all times, building a fire may be a better experience. I've seen one of these in action, and to be honest they are awesome.

5) A medical kit
Safety is so important and if I intend to spend more time in the outdoors, then I should have a quality kit to help keep me and others with me as safe as possible in the event of an accident. Too often we get this illusion that responders are only a phone call away and this puts a strain on resources while pulling help from people who may really need it. Anyone who spends time in the woods should understand how to use a medical kit and be able to spend a night in the woods if in trouble.

6) Camouflage Fender Kit for my ATV
After some thought, I had to add one more item to my list. After five years of not using my ATV (510 miles), the fenders are getting a little faded. With a user rating of 4.8 out of 5, this could be my next purchase or my wife's next one for my birthday.

So for now, that's my wish list. Safety has become my interest for now and a buck deer decoy may be the difference in pulling that monster out of the thickets. Feel free for any input and have a great day!

The Downeast Duck Hunter

Hitting the Ice...

2009-01-06T16:40:00.004-05:00

When I first met my wife, it wasn't long before I got to meet her dad. I'll never forget that moment as I'm quietly waiting in their living room and he comes home only to walk up to me, introduce himself, and offer me a beer. Honestly, I was caught off guard but started to already think, "this guy is all right".

It didn't take long for him to get me out onto the ice chasing trout and to be honest, I got caught hook, line, and sinker. Before long I had purchased every item necessary for successful ice fishing and went endlessly. Without my father-in-law, my zeal for this winter recreation may not have been realized or met with such enthusiasm.

Over time, marriage, moving home, two girls, and responsibility, I now realize the issues behind adulthood. But as the girls get older and my oldest already introduced to being on the ice last year, ice fishing is making a strong comeback in my world.

On Sunday, I hit the ice with my good friend Brian and my first cousin Scott who is in his first year of college. A blustery 20 degrees with winds around twenty degrees, it was cold but we quickly put up the shelter and set the traps. Within minutes, the brook trout were biting and the fishing was consistent. It seemed that after we would check our lines, a flag would go up.

When it was all said and done, we had our limit of trout (2 apiece) and a great time. The trout measured 15, 14, 13, 11, 9, and 8 inches respectively along with some that we had sent back. Here's some pictures of our time and I look forward to going again soon especially if the weather doesn't fare well in terms of sea duck hunting.

Brian and I with our limit of trout...

My cousin and I with my first trout...

Brian with a nice trout...

Scott and I hanging out by the shelter...

The Deer Camera Scores!!!

2009-01-04T15:00:00.005-05:00

After two trials and no results, the third time out for the deer camera resulted in a huge success!!! My oldest daughter and I got it out onto a proven trail and set it up about 4:00 p.m. last night. When I returned home from ice fishing today at 3:00 p.m., she met me at the door ready to see if we found any deer. Here's the best pictures from our snapshots and it's surprising to see what time they came through.

Enjoy!!! I'm pumped and my wife is thrilled to see me smile!!!

Finally!!!

2008-12-30T10:39:00.009-05:00

....................Sunrise, December 30, 2008

.....................Matt Diesel

..........Downeast Duck Hunter with a one shot pair!!!

After ten days of vacation and no sea ducking, mother nature finally threw me a bone. The forecast promised little wind and seasonable temperatures which brought a sense of anticipation like that of a person who has quit smoking, but finds oneself in a smoke shop.

The forecast went like this as seen first thing this morning...

TODAY
NE WINDS AROUND 5 KT...BECOMING NW AND INCREASING TO 15
TO 20 KT WITH GUSTS UP TO 30 KT. SEAS 2 TO 3 FT INCREASING TO 3 TO
5 FEET THIS AFTERNOON. LIGHT SNOW LIKELY THIS MORNING...MIXING
WITH RAIN THIS AFTERNOON. VSBY 1 TO 3 NM

Translation, I had the morning and Matt Diesel, co-founder of Duckpower, would be on this hunt. As expected, our shooting was fast and profitable with a full limit of eiders plus three old squaws. Within an hour and a half, we took to our cameras and enjoyed a few minutes of digital photography before we called it a morning.

.................Drake Eider along the line...

.................Matty with his drake old squaw

.................old squaw drake up close

...................A well deserved morning!!!

I SPY...

2008-12-25T18:39:00.004-05:00

So even when I tell my wife to get me NOTHING for Christmas, I still get a nice surprise every year. This time around was no exception as I scored a Moultrie GAMESPYi40 Digital Game Camera with Infrared Flash.

For quite some time I've wanted to get one of these to better identify what exactly is working my hunting grounds. Of particular note, I've been curious about this big footprint and if the rack could be directly proportional to the track.

After some basic application of the instruction manual I've set it up for a three shot multi-image capture with enhanced image quality. Only time will tell and I won't be able to see what's out there yet. But for you big bad buck lovers, here's the first captured image... He's a brute, my wife says he's a wall hanger!!!

Honey I think it's on...

Thank you sweetheart, your Downeast Duck Hunter loves you!!!

Old Man Winter Kicking In the Door...

2008-12-21T12:42:00.005-05:00

As Christmas soon approaches and the weather is snowing and in the single digits, I'm wondering when will I get a chance to get back out after some ducks. Yesterday was a wash with a high temperature of 7.5 degrees and tomorrow looks like a mess. The forecast looks like this...

Updated Sunday December 21, 2008 @ 10AM

****THE NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE IN CARIBOU HAS ISSUED A BLIZZARD
WARNING...WHICH IS IN EFFECT FROM 6 PM THIS EVENING TO 5 PM EST
MONDAY. THE WINTER STORM WARNING HAS BEEN CANCELLED.

SNOW WILL OVERSPREAD THE AREA LATE THIS AFTERNOON OR EVENING...
BECOMING HEAVY TONIGHT...BEFORE DIMINISHING MONDAY. SNOWFALL RATES
OF 2 INCHES PER HOUR CAN BE EXPECTED AT THE HEIGHT OF THE STORM
TONIGHT. EXPECT TOTAL SNOWFALL AMOUNTS BETWEEN 10 AND 18 INCHES...
EXCEPT 16 TO 24 INCHES ALONG AN AXIS FROM BAXTER STATE PARK TO
AROUND HOULTON.

MEANWHILE INCREASING WINDS OF 25 TO 35 MPH...WITH GUSTS OF 40 TO
45 MPH... WILL CREATE WHITEOUT CONDITIONS.

ALL INTERESTS ACROSS THE BLIZZARD WARNING AREA SHOULD RUSH TO
COMPLETION PREPARATIONS TO BE MADE IN ADVANCE OF THE STORM.

A BLIZZARD WARNING MEANS SEVERE WINTER WEATHER CONDITIONS ARE
EXPECTED. THIS STORM WILL HAVE AN EXTREME IMPACT ON THE WARNING
AREA. VERY STRONG WINDS COMBINED WITH HEAVY SNOW WILL CREATE
POTENTIALLY DEADLY OUTDOOR CONDITIONS. WHITEOUTS...DEEP SNOW
DRIFTS AND FROSTBITE OF EXPOSED SKIN CAN BE EXPECTED.****

I had planned to meet up with some friends for the end of the puddle season, but it looks like I may be sneaking onto some local ducks. Nevertheless, I can't complain about the season thus far and still have some sea ducking until the last day of January.

Shirley Lord once said, "What really matters is what you do with what you have" and we'll see how my vacation turns out.

Stay warm!!!

When you learn a lot about somebody...

2008-12-13T20:03:00.004-05:00

Today for me was top notch and my next two blog entries will be a testament to how well things went.

I had the opportunity to participate in a duck hunt with an old friend, Rod and someone new, Dennis. I always joke about how you can't always make your buddy a good duck hunter, but you can always make a good duck hunter your buddy. Today was nothing short of just that. I've heard a lot about Dennis but never had the opportunity to meet him. Through his effective set up, quality calling, and passion for duck hunting, I realized most of all is his love for a 9 year old retriever named Lexi. After Dennis had said that her days in the blind are few in number, I felt compelled to take the time to photograph the pair sharing a day waterfowling. Here's a video paying tribute to a relationship that I can appreciate but not truly understand. Again I would like to thank Dennis and Rod for inviting me to share a spot in the blind...

Expect the unexpected...

2008-12-13T16:22:00.006-05:00

Note: This is the first part in an interesting day, part two will be posted shortly

On Friday night I called my buddy Jab to see if he'd be interested in gunning on his property which has tidal estuary waterfront. He felt that we wouldn't see anything since our cold snap and also proclaimed he had a list of things to accomplish before the weekend ended. Since I had decided not to go sea duck hunting due to some forecasted wind, I found myself weighing out a few options. After thinking about sneaking down below the shore after a black duck or setting up for a few buffleheads, I placed a call to my old friend Rod to see if he'd be interested in getting together for some shooting.

Rod answered the phone with enthusiasm and shared some excitement in the potential of a hunt. A little over ten years ago we became great friends, but as his kids left home for college and mine entered the world we found ourselves sort of losing touch. However, we have never missed a beat in terms of our friendship as we have caught up every so often. After some discussion, a few phone calls, and a final decision; the plan required me to be at his house no later than 8 a.m. where our group would then drive to the gunning locale. I'll be serious, I was eager to hunt with Rod and excited to know that I would be able to hunt with my wife's blessing as her quilting class had been cancelled. That means no morning curfew!

Everything was operating according to plan until 7:10 as I was on my way out of town. My buddy, Jab, had called my cell phone at 7:04 and left a message. After checking it, I knew I had to return this call. Apparently, a massive flock of Canadian geese had arrived below his house and were in his words, "Everywhere".

Now this is what I call a problem, I called Rod to inform him of my plans and gained his full support. Just as soon as I pressed END, I was redialing Jab to let him know that, "Help was on the way, give me 8 minutes".

I met Jab in his driveway and quickly we moved to foster a strategy for success. Personally, I wanted the chance at a goose since I have never taken one in my entire life, but wanted to do this quickly enough to not impede with my original plans. After quickly scolding Jab about why we should have been down there this morning, a plan was formulated to rush down to the where the tidal grass meets the woods. With quick implementation and fast firing, three geese were dispatched and the retrieval process began. We tipped over a skiff full of water (and ice) and dragged the water logged vessel towards the incoming tide.

In just a few minutes, our quarry had been collected, several photos snapped, a quick thank you, and then I was back on the road. After calling Rod, we decided to meet at a known location and then proceed from there. My detour had set me back about one half hour, and I still had another entire hunt coming up.

An ice storm with astronomical tides...

2008-12-12T15:17:00.008-05:00

Before I begin, we get fairly large tides but as you move eastward into the Bay of Fundy things get higher, lower, and stronger. However, the tides in my vicinity run in height from around eight feet up to twelve feet depending on the time of the month in relation to the position of the moon. As of right now, we are in the middle of our spring tides this month and the weather once again became a little more unruly.

Starting last night and into this morning, we weathered an ice storm that brought some serious icing to coastal Maine, but then turned to rain as the temperature increased into the mid-forties. This resulted in a two hour delay for school, which gave me an opportunity to catch some high water action of a wharf on the leeward side of the wind. Here's a photo of the tide just before high water, well with thirty minutes to go...

And here's how the wharf fared six hours later, you can see how it buckled...

The last set of spring tides seriously damaged the wharf as a strong Nor'easter took it head on, but today's high tide really put a big hit on the structure. This wharf will never be used again and I'm not sure if the owner intends to rebuild.

On a side note, I did get a chance to snap off a few pictures of some mallards that had found refuge on a local pond.

They were getting a little worried with the Downeast Duck Hunter smiling upon them but today they got shot with a camera...

I'm hoping for a chance to go after some waterfowl tomorrow, but the wind and temperature aren't necessarily in my favor...

DEDH out

Working a different wind...

2008-12-07T11:34:00.012-05:00

Notice the three eiders to the left, bonus aspect to the sunrise...

I've spent a lot of time honing my abilities with this sea ducking stuff, and for me the strategy within the scope of planning becomes the essential ingredient to a great duck hunt. Saturday was no exception as my father and I discussed our possibilities for a day that would be bringing fair winds from the southeast and a tide that would be running ebb (from high to low). So here is what we asserted:
1) wind and tide working in the same direction- waves should have little height if any
2) if it is overcast, the birds should decoy well if we running our line southwest to northeast
3) if it isn't overcast, the birds won't be able to see the decoys as they turn into the wind to address our set for the sunrise will create a glare that will hide us and our decoys
4) the birds typically run from the east, we must give the eiders enough distance to adjust for the tailwind so that they can reach the decoys since these little tanks don't turn quickly nor elevate well
5) few head on shots will occur because of the glare, our shots will be passing at best as the birds will see the decoys from the east and the west, but won't be able to pick them up from the northwest turning southeast

We discovered that our hypothetical reasoning was clinically dead on. The eiders did come from the east early and decoyed very well before the sunrise became a challenge. Once the glare became an issue, our shots became passing as the eiders held a close berth along the spread.

Once the glare returned, these were our shots...

At times when a cloud shielded the sun from casting it's glare, we again found eiders turning an approaching our set into the wind as we were positioned southeast of the decoys bordered against a developing ledge due to the continual fall of the tide. But as soon as the cloud passed, the shot immediately changed back to passing.

After a little more than an hours worth of hunting, we managed our limit with some good shooting. I wanted to do a little photography so my shotgun was replaced with a Canon Powershot and my dad decided to wait for either an old squaw or coot. We did get one shot at an old squaw and I had some opportunities to "shoot" some ducks as well.

An eagle checking things out...

We returned home, loaded up the boat, and met at my father's house. Our debrief looked at how our plans went, any particular findings, and future considerations. Through effective planning, quality implementation, and good shooting we again found a quick limit with a high degree of satisfication.

When a small craft advisory becomes a gale warning...

2008-12-04T15:33:00.015-05:00

The hardest thing about trying to get great friends down for eider hunting is that vacation time doesn't always mesh with mother nature. Today, we discovered that is always great to have another plan and in my opinion, a few ducks are better than none at all...

For some time now, my friends Sniper and J-Dog had been trying to set aside a day that would not only work for them but also me. We had thrown around dates, checked vacation schedules, and exchanged a trillion phone calls. The day of reckoning would be December 4th, and all of us agreed to keep our fingers crossed.

Over the course of this week, I had been noticing that the National Weather Service had been changing the extended forecast for the worst while my buddy Snipper had been watching every other forecast in great spirits and optimism. Newsflash, I rely on the weather buoy and the forecast that corresponds with it, so Sniper wasn't selling me on anything. It was going to blow and our chances for a safe hunt were in my eyes diminishing with each link to the weather service website. But I had a hunch we could pull of a quick couple of hours first thing before the tide turned and the wind increased. So I informed Sniper to meet me at the landing no later than 5:45 a.m. and be ready for a quick morning.

With a three hour drive, Sniper and J-Dog managed to be right on time. I had already launched the boat and warmed up the outboard. The wind was pumping from the southwest and I began thinking about evacuating plan A and moving to plan B. But I wanted to put the guys onto some great gunning, not just gunning.

We motored from the marina and entered the reach only to find some substantial seas as the tide slapped against the wind. Spray was flying, the boat was handling the circumstances but these conditions were beginning to provide some great insight into how difficult our hunt would be to how any continued effort might lend itself to becoming dangerous. I turned the boat around, headed southwest back to the landing in the face of the 25 mph plus winds and found shelter in the channel, east of the marina. Plan B had officially become in order, but we again would have to face the wind battling the tide for a short while. However, there would be less water under the hull and the chop became more manageable as we forced ourselves towards a cove that provided some needed shelter. Within minutes we arrived, set up two separate lines of eider and scoter decoys running parallel in a southwest/northeast direction and anchored the boat just upwind of the spread.

Red sky in the morning...

After a few sunrise photos and some distant buzzing by some old squaws, we found the gunning sparingly at best. Every so often some goldeneyes would pass to the west, or some buffleheads keeping their distance from the eider decoys. Then about one hour after legal shooting, Sniper fired upon a hen coot and dispatched it immediately. That one shot forced many on the western side of the bay to scatter, but the promise of more ducks seemed a tad short.

The wind obviously had an immense effect on the ducks as they battled the wind if they flew high and the other ducks acted weary of our boat swaying west, then east as the sturdy southwest wind gave little relent. Then a slough of ducks approached from the north and had little intention of turning, after getting the okay for shooting as they all were ducks, the boys launched a spray of steel skyward at the closest intruder. I knew this what something special as the bird began to fall in demise. Once again this year I lay witness to the harvest of a black duck over eider decoys. During opening weekend, I had brought down a young drake and had commented on it in "Amazing, truly amazing..."

J-Dog takes credit for this special feat, and I explained to him that for me, a black duck is a prize duck to be appreciated. Not to downplay the sea ducks I love, but nothing seems more challenging to me than the black mallard. And to get one over my duck hunting boat, that then becomes quite rare!

Just before I called the day at 11, the boys got a chance to fire at a group of surf scoters, aka patch head coots. I honestly believed they were a bit out of range but my wishes were neglected as shots rang out and one fell instantly. Shortly after retrieving the duck, the boys got buzzed again by the remaining three with no results, and finally by one more that survived the gauntlet for another day.

Pick up took no time and the sail back to the landing gave us wind and tide in our favor. Shortly after loading my Lund onto the trailer, we reconvened at my house to view the footage I had taken and made up a quick video in their honor.

I know I didn't take a shot, but to have great friends have an opportunity to sea duck hunt and have it recorded makes for quite an experience. Even though we didn't satisfy the limit, hunted in a gale force warning (only did we find this out once we got back), and retired early, I wouldn't change today for anything. We were safe and shot well...

Interview with the Pacific Northwest Huntress... Terry Scoville of Women's Hunting Journal (Part Two)

2008-12-03T20:56:00.012-05:00

Terry, Teake, and Savannah

Check out Terry's blog, The Women's Hunting Journal
After some aggravating, I managed to get Terry to cough up some more photos. The second part of this blog interview looks more into her world in the field and how it feels to be a positive influence on men and women. Enjoy!!!

As a huntress, share with my readers your most extreme hunt? Within that scope, what were the qualities and perspectives that made it to the top of your list

This would be the time that my friend Larry and I hauled a 10' Jon boat down a 1/4 mile long snow covered dike to the Klamath River. We then broke ice with my 8 lb. splitting maul and set out a few G & H floating goose decoys. There was to much snow for us to drive the boat to the river and yet the geese were pressured for open water. We gave them what they needed and in turn we had one hell of a hunt. I don't know how many more extreme hunts like that one I have left in me. I know I've got at least a few and I look forward to them. You can read the 3 part story titled Going The Distance .

Down the dike to the Klamath River

We all make impacts in different ways and forms, what impact has your writing and blog made that would not have happened if WHJ had never been created?

Blogging has had the unexpected result of connecting with waterfowlers such as yourself who live several thousand miles away. I am no longer isolated to my small circle of geography and friends. That circle has grown to an area larger than I ever thought possible. The best part is being able to have conversations with like-minded people who share the passion for ethical hunting.
Also through blogging I am able to continue to educate non-hunters regarding the contributions that hunters make to the preservation and conservation of wildlife and wild lands. Those contributions in the form of licenses, outfitter and guide fees as well as supporting organizations such as Ducks Unlimited, Pheasants Forever, Rocky Mtn. Elk Foundation and the list goes on. Not to mention the efforts of volunteers working in conjunction with such organizations. Management of our natural resources is crucial for the continuation of hunting.

You are a role model, one for my daughters who see you in your blog. They get to see one of Daddy's friends and the pictures that go with it. My daughter asked me one day, “when I get bigger, can I hunt with you?” and “can my gun have flowers on it?”. How do I best introduce my daughters to hunting especially since it involves taking the life of an animal?

Well, I never really considered myself a "role model", I just try to teach by example and I love sharing my passion for the outdoors. I don't ever remember the issue arising regarding the taking of a life for table fare. I grew up when hunting was part of everyday life and the seasons came full circle. Beef I knew came from cows and there weren't the extremists regarding animal rights and the "do-gooders" back then. There was no negativity associated with hunting when I was young. We are now in need of promoting ourselves as ethical hunters due to the few bad apples that seem to get the most attention. Again I feel strongly about knowing why it is you hunt and to do so in a responsible, ethical way. Both for the hunter as well as the hunted. No one wants an animal to suffer, especially those of us who hunt.

Klamath River sunrise 11/29/08

Before you go, tell me about your first duck or big game. What sticks out most about that first shot?

This was back in Dec. 2002 when my friend Jeff gave me an LOP (land owner preference) tag at the ranch he works on. It was a damage control hunt for a Mule Deer doe. I remember the temperature being in the single digits with a cold north wind. We set out early that morning looking for does hiding in the rim rock protected from the winds. After a couple hours of driving and glassing we got to a spot Jeff was confident that we'd find a doe or two. We bundled up, started hiking, and dropped over the rim rock to get out of the wind. The sky was a low overcast and threatening snow. The landscape was dotted with sparse Junipers and Sage brush. This being my first deer hunt I was excited and a bit nervous, not knowing how I might be affected should I succeed. I have never shot a mammal, but after all the years and years of countless stories I've heard, I was now ready to find out first hand what this was about.
Jeff was leading and the wind was blowing so strong that it was making my eyes water and I was having a hard time seeing. I tilted my head and lowered the brim of my hat to help block the wind and just then Jeff stopped suddenly. I froze in my tracks and instantly my heart started beating faster. Jeff was pointing to a bedded doe on the leeward side of the hill, laying just under a rock outcropping. I tried to see her but was having no luck. Eventually I saw her and Jeff suggested I use a Juniper stub for a gun rest. I moved uphill about 15 feet and rested my gun in the crook of an old burnt Juniper. Jeff said that whenever I was ready to take the shot. I asked "just where do I aim"? He said "below the ear at the base of the head". "O.k." I said and before I knew it I had squeezed the trigger and the does head dropped to the ground. I was flushed with adrenaline and my ears were ringing from the shot. I peered over the top of my scope and Jeff said "good job, you go check her and I'll keep her in my binoculars in case she gets up". Well Jeff knew she was dead and not going anywhere. I chambered another round in my .270 and started walking towards her. My feet were frozen yet the rest of me was warm and my heart was pounding in my ears. As I got close I could see her juggler vein still pulsing. Well that was all it took and the tears started. My emotions had surfaced and was overcome as Jeff congratulated me. He asked me if I was alright and I said yes as I was laughing and crying at the same time. I was pleased to have made a good shot and that the doe did not suffer. Yet the gravity of my success was beyond my expectations in all areas. It is humbling to end a life. Words fall short of the experience for me. I am thankful to be affected and if the day were to come that I am not, then I will again reassess my reasons for being in the field.

Terry's first mule deer...

Interview with the Pacific Northwest Huntress... Terry Scoville of Women's Hunting Journal (Part One)

2008-12-02T20:07:00.013-05:00

Photo of Terry Scoville's first deer

Fellow Bloggers and Outdoor Enthusiasts:

About three weeks ago, I received an e-mail from a person who was having some difficulty linking to my blog and it went like this:

Hi there, this is Terry from Women's Hunting Journal. I have tried to link you on my blog but blogger says it can't detect a URL for your site. Any ideas? Found your site via Hunt, Eat, Live and I really enjoy reading your blog. Great Great dedication and I love the Eider "thesis" very cool. I hunt in S.W. Oregon in the Klamath basin and we don't get the species you Easterners do.

I'll keep trying to get you linked, let me know if there are any reasons you know of for the difficulty or best yet any solutions. Thanks and keep up the tradition.

When I first created my blog, I didn't expect to be networking with other members of a country-wide hunting and fishing community. However, through one friend I have found many and often I find myself browsing through the articles that are different but so similar to my practice in Downeast Maine.

I hadn't checked out Terry's blog at this point, but felt compelled to do so and it became quite apparent that my interest in her world became what blogging is all about. Her experiential writing from the field and how it applied to women generated a need to find out what drives a female to have a passion for hunting much like me.

Before I continue, I need to inform you all that I have two young girls, 4 and 2 respectively, and it is very important for me to effectively introduce them to a world I care about so much. I've had my oldest freshwater fishing for bass on the open water and trout through the ice, and my youngest emulating her older sister. But fishing is different than hunting, in a world that animals are portrayed as one of us through animation, Bambi and Nemo have become silent advocates against hunting and fishing. I needed to establish a dialogue with Terry about how she became the huntress so well presented in her blog.

Through several e-mails, we began to share experiences, stories, and general information about what we possess in our gun cabinets to the types of game we pursue to the nature of better representing our sport. It then became apparent that I must allow her to answer some questions so that young women who either hunt or aspire to hunt can feel confident in developing their persona in an increasingly complex and changing world. In addition, her life can in fact become a useful device for fathers who want to encourage their daughters to grow up with hunting as a part of their life as opposed to something they just do to make their dad happy.

So I proposed this to Terry: I interview you as an ambassador for women to hunting and you can do the same with me in any direction you choose. This is what I received from her. Enjoy!!!

Why is it that you have found yourself blogging and more importantly why the development of Women's Hunting Journal?

It was this past March when I was having lunch with a good friend Cristina Acosta, who's blog (Create and Relate) suggested I start a blog dedicated to women's hunting. Her reason being that I seldom grew tired of sharing my stories about being in the field and pursuing my passion for hunting. I feel history has overlooked women's hunting. There are some books noting women hunters as early as the 1800's, but for the most part hunting is perpetuated as a male dominant pursuit. I feel the presence of more women hunters will eventually break the negative stereotypes that exist regarding women and hunting.

In the field a women learns self reliance, confidence, gains clarity as to her strengths and weaknesses, thus learning what her own guidelines for hunting. For example, packing out big game animals: deer, elk, moose, bear. Being typically not as large in stature or as physically strong as a man, a woman will need to make more trips packing out the meat or hunt with a partner to help pack out meat. As for waterfowl and upland hunting, I feel that abilities between men and women are equal. Women's Hunting Journal creates a public arena for conversation about women in the field.

On your blog under the section “About Me”, you mention your experience in years and address your enthusiasm towards hunting, if you were to add anything else about yourself what would you share?

In sharing my stories on Women's Hunting Journal, my priorities are integrity and keeping it real. Being true to the hunting experience is about being present, not just on the physical level but emotionally and spiritually as well. I feel that a good hunter/huntress is the epitome of a good conservationist. Conscious hunting includes both internal dialogue and shared conversations about morality, ethics, connection to wild places and wild things, and respect for myself and my quarry. How a person pursues hunting and conducts themselves in the field is a reflection these conversations.

How do you feel about the status of women in the field based on your experiences and response from your blog? Are there any avenues of improvement, declination, praises, or concerns?

Based on comments and reading my analytics, I can see that my blog is affecting readers in a positive way. There are readers from all over the world who are reading about my experiences as an American woman huntress. When readers from countries such as India, Nigeria, Turkey, Madagascar and other countries where women do not have the full political, social, economic and religious rights that I have, then I feel my blog stories are examples of such freedoms to the rest of the world. On that level it is a huge responsibility to maintain the integrity of Women's Hunting Journal and to continue to post my experiences as a woman in the field.

What was the defining moment for you that stoked the fire inside for hunting? There are experiences that turn us on to things, and experiences that turn us off. Have there been times that your dedication to hunting became questionable? If so, how did you manage to handle this challenge?

As a woman there is not a specific moment that got me hooked on hunting. Rather experiences as a whole which took root when I was young. Everything is connected to everything else. Learning in school was difficult and it didn't take me long to realize that I was more at home with myself if I was able to be physically active in learning. I am a kinesthetic learner, hence all the years ski racing and pursuing sports. So when my father started taking me hunting and fishing I caught on quickly and found great confidence in those arenas. The time and energy my father shared with me continues to keep his spirit at my side long after his passing.

As for a time in my life when I questioned my hunting, yes there was. I was about 30 years old and questioned my entire existence. I put my shotgun down for 9 years and reassessed my reasons/motives for hunting. That period of my life was one of great growth and a time I reassessed my reasons for being. I wrote a post about that time in my life titled, Why Do You Hunt?

Stay tuned for Part Two!!!

Second article published!!!

2008-11-30T13:06:00.005-05:00

Another submission from the blog was accepted by Duck Hunting Chat's online magazine. The Four Subspecies of the Common Eider can be found at the following link...

Duck Hunting Chat Online Article

My Blasting Brother-in-Law...

2008-11-29T17:28:00.002-05:00

Okay, so I put the shotgun down today and fired up the video camera only to take some less than high quality video. My brother-in-law didn't make it down for our eider hunt on Thursday morning since he was dealing with a power outage and my sister. Here's the video of Mr. Bufflehead and my personal favorite is when he takes out the closet one only to watch the gigantic flock split and fly away. Still, he knocked them down well and I'm sure he's quite pleased with himself...

Still on a roll...

2008-11-28T08:55:00.014-05:00

My eyes rolled open about 45 minutes before the alarm was to go off, and I wasn't about to try to sleep anymore. So I snuck out of the bedroom and fired up the coffee pot as I checked the laptop for the weather. It didn't take long to discover that the wind forecasted for today was virtually nonexistent and I started to kick myself for not having my sea ducking gear ready. Slightly perturbed, I gulped down the brewed coffee and called my partner for the day. Before I continue with the sequence of today, let me introduce the "Mouse"...

Mouse

Mouse is a former student of mine and an ever aspiring hunter in the works. You see his father spent an abundance of time with him as a youngster hunting and fishing but when Mouse was in junior high, cancer robbed him of his dad. So over the past several years, Mouse has continually searched for anybody who would take him hunting or at least show him how to hunt successfully. I won't say I've taken him under my wing, but maintain a steady relationship that relies on training, discussion, and practice. He's a good kid and believe that he truly appreciates every second out in the field with people who care about showing him the ins and outs of hunting....

We met at 5:30 a.m. and quickly moved our gear down onto the flats. For today, we would be gunning a spot called the yellow rocks and since the tide has just started to flood it would be an excellent opportunity to get a daylight black duck or mallard coming into the freshwater drain where we hid silently. When you are hunting coastal areas in Maine with two high and two low tides a day, you realize that timing becomes everything as you pursue certain types of waterfowl. Our concealment would be in satisfactory unison with the flood tides edge and legal shooting time. In the midst of everything so perfect, it would still be a one shot deal and I told Mouse that he better be ready for the ducks would not return after we offered a volley on the mud flats of the bay...

As legal shooting came closer and closer, I dabbled with the call and received an abundance of replies. Then we could hear the wind behind some desperate waterfowl as they were trying to locate our position in the dark. I told Mouse it wouldn't be long and right at legal shooting, two mallards hit the drain just to our right. Mouse was handcuffed by the rock we hid behind, but I was in perfect condition. I nudged him and got the go ahead from him which led to a quick shot from my Remington 870. One lifted into the sky as the other remained in the drain, I got up immediately to retrieve the duck but realized that once I started into the drain, the duck took off into the sky. There I stood with no shotgun and a long gone bird, that was discouraging...

But that one shot lifted not just those two ducks into the sky, but apparently every black and mallard in the bay as they were circling our spread and searching for a safe haven. For those that decided our locale was safe didn't choose well, as we watched a number of ducks land in the same location as the previous two. We touched off the 12 gauges and I knew that my shot yielded a duck, but then asked Mouse about his take. His reply was, "I don't think I got any". And sure enough, all we had for our early morning was one beautiful drake black duck. Knowing that this morning was a one shot deal, we packed up, returned to the trucks, and went to his house...

We decided to check another ambush spot called the Iron Mine, but I let him sneak in as I found a rock ledge to hide behind overlooking Eastern Bay. I figured that he deserved another chance, plus if it were a mallard then I could potentially get a chance if he drove out any birds. As I looked out across the bay, the amount of buffleheads, mergansers, old squaws, and surf scoters surprised me. If the weather holds true to the forecast, I just may find myself gunning in this area tomorrow...

Once Mouse returned, we took a couple of pictures and returned to my house. Although discouraged by not taking a duck, he seemed quite elated that I offered the black duck to him in appreciation of he taking the time to help me set up. He'll call me several times today about how we dressed the bird, how to bake it, and how great it tasted. I've already planned for us to go sea ducking in a couple of weeks as my boat seems scheduled until Christmas, but when I do call him be rest assured that he'll drop everything and anything to be hunting with me...

I hadn't used my 870 for quite some time, my father gave it to me for my 12th birthday and I've added the synthetic black stock and forend two years ago...

So for sharing my day with the Mouse, I'll chalk it up as a great success and my Thanksgiving break continues to bring about much enjoyment and opportunity...

Thanksgiving Day Blast!!!

2008-11-27T09:29:00.013-05:00

Sunrise, Thanksgiving Day, 2008

After the storm that put 50,000 customers without power, the wind did become light southwest and it became an excellent chance for some sea ducking. The key question that presented itself was whether or not the 59 mph gusts from the southeast and a sustained wind around 40 mph would drive out our existing eiders or usher in new ones?

See the Bangor Daily news article about the storm...

It didn't take long to discover that our morning would be full of excellent opportunities as groups of 8 to 15 eiders kept arriving from the east. These birds were mature and large, obviously brought in from the cold spell last week and the fierce winds following the cold snap. In 45 minutes, my father and I had filled our bag limit of eiders (10) and dad scored an extra hen oldsquaw (long tailed duck). After our hunt, dad and I both agreed that this has been the best gunning of the season thus far.

Hen oldsquaw and one mature drake eider

What we didn't realize it that the storm had kicked up an astronomical amount of seaweed and it was very difficult to get our long lines of eider decoys into the boat. Typically we clean the line as we put the decoys back into the baskets, but with the shear heft of the line we ended up just throwing the entire works into the back of the boat. It did take some time to clear that quagmire!!!

The rabid outdoorsman will attest to how bad this mess is!!!

Here's a photo of our quarry, a true morning to be thankful for...

Limit of eiders...Happy Thanksgiving

Hitting the Ropes...

2008-11-25T07:33:00.006-05:00

This past weekend I attended a leadership conference with ten of my high school students and there was a break in the action.

One of my kids suggested that I gear up and try at least one, but I didn't want to take away any of their opportunities. After some egging, I put on the climbing gear and shimmied up the tree, crossed the rope, head butted the other tree, and dropped off the ropes. It wasn't the toughest, actually it may have been the easiest but nevertheless I found my picture taken several times. Even though it was cold as the dickens, the kids were troopers and all left a little better for their participation.

Falling, Fall Away

Approaching the tree

Busy... busy... busy...

2008-11-20T18:10:00.013-05:00

Flashback...

It's been a hard run, weather on the weekends has been nothing short of small craft advisories and daylight savings time has put a huge hit into my afternoon deer nights. I do have a leadership conference to attend, but next week I'm out of school as of 12 noon on Wednesday so it looks like deer afternoons, duck mornings, and family in between. Hopefully I'll be able to provide a few memorable stories, plus I'm thinking about doing a blog interview on a pretty fascinating woman in the field from the our Northwestern region of the country. I hope all is well for everyone and stay tuned!!!

If anyone is curious about what I do feel free to drop me an email at downeastduckhunter@yahoo.com

Downeast Duck Hunter

Duck Camp, 2008

2008-11-09T20:45:00.003-05:00

Due to other circumstances, I only got to participate in the last day of duck camp this year as my good buddies The Rabid Outdoorsman and his younger brother Matt Diesel made it down for an overnight on a remote island. The weather was less than satisfactory with easterly winds, fog, and some rain. Nevertheless, this is the product of my painstaking labor from my digital camera...

Reflections from the deer stand...

2008-11-05T19:43:00.007-05:00

Maine law requires two pieces of blaze orange. I did wear an orange hat over my ball cap, but that would have looked un-photogenic...

Opening day came and went this Saturday, but I took a notepad out with me and thought I'd write exactly what was on my mind from time to time. Here's what I came up with and thought I'd share it with you... Note this is exactly how it was written down from the stand...

2:20 p.m.- officially in the stand, didn't think my wife was ever going to make it home from quilting class. She was only ten minutes late but it seemed like an eternity, after all it is opening day and I didn't go duck hunting this morning.

Thought for sure I heard a snort on my way in, I waited about ten minutes before continuing moving ahead.

The wind is NW, it drops out then puffs up for a bit, I am sure the scent will be ineffective. I do spray doe estrus as an "attractive" cover up.

After 31 minutes of hunting last year I'm excited to get back out into the woods. It was very convenient last year, but I lost so much in doing so: decompression, learning, relaxation, thinking, analyzing the behavior processes of the deer herd.

I'm a little annoyed with the tree in my shooting lane... it's bowed over and the top of it is right where I fired upon last years spike horn. Tomorrow I'll clear that, if I get a second...

Why is opening day so special?
The excitement, clean slate, nature, eagerness, freezer waiting, cool afternoons, warm sun on my face, and that smell of the woods. The time alone out here is mine, there is no schedule and no reason to quit. My only restriction is day light.

Why only afternoons?
I have had very little luck in the morning hours and the deer move through my area in the afternoon as they transition from daytime bedding to feeding. Usually, I get at least one shooter passing through the lane each year. Finally, I'm duck hunting any available morning and I can't do both at the same time so I will do both on the same day if I can...

My time is limited this year. As a provider for my family, I've picked up another job that consumes two week days. In addition, an addendum was added to the teacher's contract that I must leave no sooner than 3 p.m. which combines with daylight savings time tomorrow. The result, very limited hunting time. Finally, next weekend is duck camp so no deer hunting while the one following has me committed to another job through Maine Medical Center. I will not be in the woods until Veterans Day next Tuesday the 11th...

3:04 p.m.- One thing I've brought this year new to my gear is a 12 inch piece of twine to tie my tag onto the deer after shooting. I've cut off straps, laces, cord from my grunt call, and from my hooded sweatshirt. This year I'm ready.

Being housebound is the worst feeling, I get so uptight, held back, and restricted. That is something I need to work on... patience...

The woods get me away, but not really. I hear dogs barking, vehicles along the main road, and kids outside from a distance. But there is also some crows, a lonely squirrel chirping four feet away, the wind shifting, creaking trees, the breezes coming in before the cool air touches your face.

The wind is still NW, I wish it would lean N or even NE. Today's hunt is all chance, scent will not work today, I'm at the mercy of that deer deciding to take my path.

3:50 p.m.- Ah, the wind did lean a little more north so I took last year's full bottle of doe in estrus and took the cover off. Quietly I tossed it westward trying to create a swarth of scent. We'll see...

5:15 p.m.- One shot fired from the Northwest, wind has dropped out, visibility diminishing, and temperature dropping. Won't be much longer.

5:35 p.m.- Sneak home quietly with my flashlight.

I've been O Bomb AHHHHDDDD!!!

2008-11-01T07:35:00.004-04:00

My wife wakes me up this morning to inform me that I've been hit. I've always been proud of the fact that in 11 years of teaching, not once have I been the victim of a prank associated with Halloween. Well, it all ended last night as I peered out the picture window to see a most troubling and damaging act. In my yard now stands 20, I repeat twenty, Barack Obama and Joe Biden yard signs and my John McCain sign is long gone.

The action was well thought out and I can appreciate this great joke, the best part is that I didn't think there were 20 Obama signs in Washington County. I suppose I'll have to contact the Democratic National Committee to come pick them up. So until later, Obama central signing off!!!

The Four Subspecies of the Common Eider in North America

2008-10-30T10:49:00.042-04:00

The Hudson Bay Eider, note the band on it's leg...

Due to my proximity in Downeast Maine, I figure that almost 100% of my duck hunting takes place on the Atlantic Ocean. Within my bag exists the likes of the bufflehead, common goldeneye, old squaw, lesser scaup, merganser, butter bill scoter, surf scoter, white-winged scoter, mallard, black duck, and several other species. However, the duck that exists within my upmost passion for hunting is the common eider (somateria mollissima) and I have spent my entire life improving my practice to pursue these fantastic creatures. Recently, I have put a greater emphasis on understanding the common eider and exploring the science behind these interesting ducks. Since several of my high school students are very interested in duck hunting, I find myself explaining so much about my world and sometimes wondering if I could have answered their query better.

My education about the Northern eider came from a friend, Richard DiBiase, who guides in the Penobscot Bay region. Rich spoke of this Northern eider that would be brought in by the harsh Canadian winter. Before he could get a crack at them, they would have to get past me. I had always thought that all eiders were the same and now was constantly wondering about this Northern Eider. Before I knew it, I was reading and researching about the variety of common eider subspecies. Eventually, one of my students suggested that I write a research paper about my findings. I agreed and this is what I would like to share.

Definitions
loral line- the black strip or line on an eider that begins just below the nostril and runs along the bill towards the black cap on top of the eiders head

lobes- part of the eider bill that separates towards the eye of the eider, varies in shape from subspecies to subspecies

Pacific Common Eider (somateria mollissima v-nigra)

Photo by Rene Pop

Range- Northwest Canada, Arctic Ocean, Alaska, Bering Strait, Russia, south to the Aleutian Islands

Notice the thickness of the black loral line running up the bill into the curved black cap

The largest and most brilliant of the common eiders, the Pacific common eider displays a vivid yellow orange bill that is defined by short, fine, pointed frontal lobes. It has a longer head with the greatest distance from the eye to the nostril of all common eiders. The Pacific Eider's bill has a fairly thick black loral line that extends to a deep curved black cap as the black emerges from the bill (loral line). In addition, the Pacific eider drake has a distinct black V on the chin unlike the other common eider races. Some have suggested that the head of the Pacific eider doesn't seem quite balanced.

The black V under the chin is unique to the Pacific Eider
Photo by Bruce MacTavish

Of particular note, this duck is the second most coveted in Alaskan waterfowl as it's cousin, the king eider, takes the top spot on the duck hunters list.

Hudson Bay Common Eider (Somateria mollissima sedentaria)

Range- Hudson and James Bay, Northern Canada (tundra region)

Named Mitia by the Inuit, the Hudson Bay eider is subject to a most demanding climate in the tundra region of Canada. Bred entirely in Hudson Bay, this subspecies is rarely acknowledged elsewhere but would be considered as an American eider if seen. They winter in a few isolated locations as they congregate in the ice free waters of Hudson Bay.

Because of the extreme climate and limited avenues for escape, these eiders continually live along the edge of the ice pack in order to access the water to feed. In addition, the Hudson Bay eider practices a survival tactic titled pullait. The Hudson Bay eider winters near areas of open water surrounded by sea ice called polynyas. In these small open areas, groups of eiders congregate and dive frequently for any available food. Due to the shear number of eiders, exhaled air meets the salt-water thin ice that rises to make a shallow dome. This naturally created shelter then exists for the eider to maintain their feeding patterns in these polynyas, which are rich in feed for all types of the food chain. Hudson Bay eider have become so reliant on polynyas for winter food they don't know how to migrate. Actually the scientific name sedentaria refers to the act of being sedentary or not moving around.

Arctic polynyas with Hudson Bay Eiders on the ice edge

However, there also exists a troubling act of nature by the ever-forming ice where Hudson Bay eiders become entrapped and perish. As the ice pack continues to form, the available areas for feeding become less prevalent. With limited access, areas become more crowded, the eiders create their own ice walls from frequent splashing. As this continues, the eiders become more desperate to escape and can not fly out of the hole. This then leads itself to several types of mortality. The eiders become easy prey, some drown, starve, or freeze as the hole continues to close. Most of these victims are immature eiders who haven't fled for safer waters. In some severely cold winters, there have been stories of thousands of eiders who have perished because of this phenomenon.

Through my research, I found a most interesting eider website produced by Joel Heath who seriously looks into the world of the Hudson Bay eider. His work is most amazing and I'm thankful for his dedication. I implore you to check out his site.
Surviving the Arctic Winter Research Site

If you want to see his movie trailer about his work, check this out
Trailer for Eider: Winter Survivor

American Eider (Somateria mollissima dresseri)

Notice how thin the black loral line is running up the side of the bill and the flatness of the the black cap against the white head
Photo by Bill Thompson

Range- Newfoundland, Labrador, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, and the Northeastern United States

Identified by the slight protrusion of it's white sails contouring the white back, the American eider has a bill that varies in color from grey to olive to bright orange. The profile of the bill possesses large, broad, rounded frontal lobes that extend closer to the eye and it's head offers a more extensive translucent green extending along the lower back of the black cap. The black strip (loral line) between the white and the frontal lobe is the thinnest amongst of the eider subspecies.

Notice the profile of the bill and the rounded frontal lobes by the eye

Maine supports part of the Atlantic population of common eiders and is the only major eider breeding contiguous state with an abundance of uninhabited smaller islands.

The two main focus points I have chosen for this subspecies were the challenges of decreasing numbers over time and the feeding patterns to which I can relate to an article I published on Duck Hunting Chat.

During the 1800's and early 1900's, the American eider numbers decreased throughout coastal Maine for a variety of reasons. Offshore islands were becoming occupied by people for fishing and farming purposes. This human disturbance affected the eider's ability to breed and also increased gull predation as nest desertion became more prominent. Egg collecting and hunting without regulations also caused a significant decline. Eider down, famous for it's insulating properties, was in high demand for featherbeds and pillows. With the advent of hunting regulations and the abandonment of many coastal islands as some of the fishing industries declined in participation, the Maine eider population did in fact increase.

Factors such as avian predation, starvation, drowning, and human disturbance all tend to act interdependently to challenge the survival possibilities of the young ducklings. Organizations such as the Nature Conservancy, Ducks Unlimited, and other societies have put forth much effort to ensure that breeding habit remains free of development.

The feeding patterns of the eider are quite unique in that the majority of their dietary intake consists of animal matter. Primarily feeding on marine invertebrates, the eider will dive up to depths of 40 feet searching for blue mussels, sea urchins, periwinkles, and green crabs. Of notice, it has been determined that these ducks present a habitual feeding pattern coinciding with tidal level at mean low water. This is when the eiders can more easily pursue the above listed marine species.

For a video by Joel Heath showing a feeding eider click below
Eider Diving for Feed

Northern Eider (Somateria mollissima borealis)

Photo by Dick Newell

Notice how the lobes of the Northern eider aren't as rounded as the American Eider
Photo by Killian Mullarney

Notice the sails on the Northern Eider's back
Photo by Paul Kelly

Through my research, this subspecies provided the least information. However, it is quite apparent that one must take time to conisider the physical attributes to distinguish this arctic species against it's cousins southward.

The bill of the Northern Eider which frequents Maine in the late winter tends to exhibit a bright yellow orange bill base as evident of the Greenland and Northeastern Canadian residents.

From experience, these northern eiders are larger than their American cousins and sport a more fantastically brighter bill (a more vibrant yellow) with a less pronounced frontal lobe. The American eider has a much more rounded feature where the bill separates at the wedge of the black cap. In addition to the differences of the bill and size, the sails of the Northern eider are more apparent as the scapulars tend to be more exposed at rest as opposed to a more reserved appearance from the American eider. Finally, the loral line is thicker than the American eider (where the black begins by the nostril) and the black cap that exists on all subspecies of eider is relatively straight and uniform from the perspective of the Norther eider.

In reflection

Throughout the remainder of my eider hunting career, I'll be sure to look for any interesting encounters. I'm sure of my taking of the American and Northern eider, but will be curious if either a Pacific or Hudson Bay eider find their way Downeast. However, when I do, the research and time taken will prove quite beneficial for proper identification.

Special Recognition:
Eiders in Ireland- Rare forms worth finding
Martin Garner & Wilton Farrelly

Habitat Suitability Index Model: Americian Eider (Breeding) Biological Report 2/1988
Arlene K. Blumton
Ray B. Owen, Jr.
William B. Krohn

Eider Duck Underwater Video
Joel Heath, 2002

Photos
Martin Garner
Dick Newell
Paul Kelly
Killian Mullarney
Rene Pop
Bruce MacTavish

I'm not in college anymore, why am I doing this???

2008-10-28T20:39:00.003-04:00

This is going to sound so lame, but I'm writing a paper on the common eider. That's right the duck I love to hunt more than anything now has brought me to the wonderful world of research and writing. You may ask why and to be honest, I'm not really sure. All I know is that since I've finished my masters degree, I'm still looking for reasons to keep improving henceforth the notion of life-long learning. For an update of this paper that will be submitted soon, I have focused on some of the aspects of the common eider that are new to me and worth discussing. Here's one did you know??????? Within the the group common eider, somateria mollissima, there exists at least 4 sub-species, potentially 5 in North America... That's right, there are up to five different versions of the same common eider and it gets more complex as you include Europe...

In addition, there will be another Rabid Outdoorsman/Downeast Duck Hunter face off slated for the 7th and 8th of November. However, this one will be in Downeast Maine and will take us down to duck camp... This should be quite a story for our hunting club, Duckpower, will be in full attendance for the two day hunt...

Stay tuned!!!

Trick or Treat... Smell My Feet...

2008-10-26T16:56:00.009-04:00

I've never been so inspired, yes we can!!!

I'm not a giant, Mahoney's grammie is pretty short...

When put together, we make electricity...

A witch, nurse, keg of Natural Light, and ???

This weekend, my wife and I attended the Mahoney's Halloween party. Mahoney has been my best friend for over ten years now and stood up with me as my best man in 2003. In an agreement with Mahoney's wife, we would attend the party and Mahoney could sneak down for a quick hunt (see Matt and Mahoney, It's kinda of hard being Snoop D-O- Double G).
In retrospect, the three hour drive was well rewarded with an excellent attendance and great costumes.

Personal highlights for me were winning best costume, learning a few extra defensive mechanisms, and meeting my idol- Senator Barack Obama. I asked him questions about gun control, taxes, and the true intent of the far left agenda. I was very pleased as our pleasant discussion yielded the catch phrases change, hope, believe, spread the wealth, and common sense gun control. All jokes aside, I had an absolute great time and would like to thank all who helped salvage my bad day hunting. And I would love to give a special shout out to Mahoney's grandmother, that typical white person, who told me it was okay to cling to my guns and bible. Thanks Grammie!!!

When life gives you a little lemon...

2008-10-25T08:58:00.011-04:00

Two of my tenders...

Dad's decoys over my bow...

My father at 8:37...
The one that would have been the best is a little out of focus.

So there I was stewing for a bit waiting for the tide to get a little higher so I could haul my tender above peak and thought maybe I could get my outboard running. When I got to the point, my father's truck was there which led me to believe he was on the same level of thinking as me. His tender was gone and I knew immediately, he's out after those sea ducks. Since I had brought my camera to snap a few photos for my previous entry, I figured if my outboard motor ran I'd go check out how dad was faring.

I hadn't used my 3.3 at all this summer which only reinforces the idea behind "use it or lose it". I had been using my littlest tender (in the picture above) which rows like a rocket. The second being I must have forgotten which way to turn on the fuel on in the dark. The problem with those little Mercury motors is that if you leave the fuel switch on, the fuel will run and flood the carburetor and it will be virtually impossible to get started quickly. And since I have worn the on/off decal away, I couldn't fathom the problem this morning. So my stupidity cost me a hunt. My father did magically fix his outboard also, all it took for him was to put back his emergency pull cord back on his outboard. Nevertheless, I took the time to take a few pictures. Notice some of his ultra magnum eider decoys, that's another blog!!!

When things just won't go right...

2008-10-25T06:46:00.003-04:00

The Sunrise at 6:37 a.m.

Well at least my coffee is hot and tasteful, but all other things in my duck hunting world have officially gone bust. Today was supposed to be a day of reckoning. With the advent of junior hunting day, my father and I made the decision to move to a more remote, but closer venue. Rather than use our Alaskan, it became pertinent to utilize our tending crafts for our lobsterboats. Now these specially made boats powered by 3.3 Mercury outboards are very proper for gunning in areas that bring ledges, rocks, shallow spots, and any thing else questionable for larger vessels. However, I have had as many times of difficulty with that outboard as I have had pleasure. And my father on the very same morning got the same poison. Just so you know, legal shooting today was at 6:24 and I'm currently blogging at 6:49 with my thermos at my feet...

Okay, it's been a few days in the works. Matt Diesel elected not to attend this Saturday's hunt for reasons that I'm still trying to figure out and my father didn't want to be interfering with any kids chance of tagging a deer on Junior Hunt Day. So we watched the weather and figured we could gun on the Northwest side of the island amongst some of our neighboring smaller islands. The tide would be half-flood and it would be a great chance to shake up some of the ducks who have been moving in to the mussel beds. We took all 40 of my eider decoys, and other equipment, out of the Lund and loaded up the tenders last night in order to minimize the efforts in the morning. All that we needed this morning was the coffee, apparel, and the firearms. I felt quite encouraged by our plans.

Enter my good friend Murphy, he's a bastard...

We get to our tenders that are on haul offs (for those who don't know, we have an anchor off the shore with rope running through the eye, this ultra big loop then allows us to pull in our boats from shore) and loaded up. It took three pulls of my cord to fire up the little Mercury and I sat there idling waiting for dad to fire up, well he never made it and never did I. His outboard wouldn't start at all and mine wouldn't hold idle. I thought at first it was flooded, so then I put the throttle down and pulled a trillion times, then I'd get it running for three seconds and stall. Meanwhile, my father had his motor torn apart and was losing his dedication to our hunt quickly. So here we were, my father, myself, and that jerk Murphy who seems to show up at any given time when I'm supposed to have fun. My dad threw in the towel, and I rowed back to the shore to unloaded all the gear that I spent over an hour fixing for this morning. Game over...

So here I sit at 7:08 wondering how well things are going for the Rabid Outdoorsman and his dad, actually I know things are going awesome. You see, Murphy found me... What annoys me the most is that all I wanted to do was share in a great morning with my dad... For some reason, it couldn't be and that what bothers me the most... I guess I'll give Rabid a call to see if there is balance in the universe... We did talk about Taoism in World History this week...

The Downeast Duck Hunter

Matt and Mahoney, it's kinda of hard being Snoop D-O-double G

2008-10-18T15:57:00.009-04:00

.................................Sunrise

................................Mahoney

...............................First Light

Every so often, I manage to get my best man, Mahoney, to sneak down for a visit. We had been discussing the possibility of him getting out with the one they call Matt Diesel and myself for a quick morning blast, and then everyone could go their separate ways. The forecast clearly suggested 15-20 mph winds from the North and this automatically presented a challenge. I thought about where we could best set up to 1) be safe and somewhat out of the wind, 2) encourage sea ducks to address the decoys, and 3) accommodate the tide which would be turning flood around 8 a.m.

I decided to put us in a typical location and alter the presentation of the decoys. Rather than offering a slight crescent running north and south, it became a better idea to cup the dekes a little more and move the spread a little more to the east in order to encourage some fliers to turn into the wind as the ledge would act as a forcing agent. We would set up to the west of the decoys, and would have to settle with fly-bys. Challenging, but workable.

We had already filled one limit of eiders and found ourselves into a little down time. It's still early and the eiders we are currently gunning are residents. I don't expect the migrators until next month as freezing temperatures from Canada are inevitable. As a result of some inaction, Matt and I got messing around with Matt's new Blackberry which had his entire music collection already downloaded. It was at this point Matt decided to showcase his mad rapping skills while Mahoney stood watch for a rogue eider. I apologize for the explicit lyrics, but after you see this you'll appreciate how this whole thing went down. And if you are wondering, it was five...

Matt Diesel and Mahoney in Full Effect!!!

The Opener with the Rabid Outdoorsman: End game

2008-10-17T13:45:00.010-04:00

I don't know what was worse, the grumble in my gut as the coffee started to wear away my stomach lining or the instant rush of caffeine going straight into my system. It didn't matter, Steve may be the Rabid Maine Outdoorsman, but his career in the java world is quite limited. And there Steve was, grinning from ear to ear because the coffee was hot. I didn't want to pour it out for that would have brought the water quality to dangerous and toxic levels. Okay, enough about that, it's hunting time!

We quietly shot the bull and strategized about how we would begin the day, I kept checking the time as we approached legal shooting. Around 5:30, Steve began a series of calls ranging from wood duck “yelps” to dabbling mallards to the teal call. I'm not sure if he was trying to impress me with a quack here, and a quack there, here a quack, there a quack, everywhere a quack, quack, but other ducks did respond. It might have been what they do at that time, Steve could have been doing a great job or he could be taking credit for something that occurs every morning. I don't use duck calls for the most part, other than for black ducks in a winter snowstorm. So let's just say he's a brilliant duck whisperer.

My take: Steve, in his element and calling the shots, myself, eager and excited for a new experience in the wild-fowling world even though I had been poisoned by one of my best friends.

So here is my best recount of the opening minute to our first volley of shotgun blasts...

6:04 Legal Shooting, well at least it was... you couldn't see well, it was overcast, drizzling, and dark... There was no sunrise for that pristine early shot, just dark and dreary, plus the rain kept things just wet enough to fog up the camera and I had nothing to wipe away the condensation... Then we heard the first shots of the new season...

6:16 was when our first flock arrived and I wasn't sure how to approach this, were we to wait until Steve said go, or should I jump up and start firing. In all of our conversations, Steve and I did NOT discuss the first flock. So I waited, as not to bogart the experience. Then here we sat, with at least 8 mallards in the decoys, three lined up for one shot and I say “what do we do?”. Both pointing our shotguns, Steve replied, “Ready?” as I responded, “Yeah”...

“Go first”, he suggested and I fired with Steve quickly rallying behind...

Our quarry from that first flock... zero, how could we have missed those birds I thought, I wasn't sure if we had misjudged the distance, or had drawn down our beads too far, but nevertheless my first volley of fire since mid-December last year had resulted in a fat goose egg...

My take: Steve, wondering, myself wondering why so rusty, ready for the next flock...

From that point on, you could hear shots from all over and watch flocks buzzing all around. The guys on the little island were firing, the dudes to our west were sky-busting and not even coming close, people on an adjacent lake were shooting, and the ducks were consistently on the fly.

We had some questionable circumstances, some ducks were too far but just close enough, I chose not to fire for the most part especially after seeing how well sky-busting works. The teal were dive bombing and darting all over just like fighter jets and the wood ducks descended only to veer another way in complete unison. My bird identification came around a lot faster than I had previously thought, I recognized some mallards directly approaching from the west. They veered south and split behind our stand and the island we were hunting. Then somehow, Steve located a drake greenhead and gave it a chuckle. The mallard flew directly over the southwest decoys and then started to flare as I jumped up. I offered two shots but am sure the first one did the job and the drake spiraled to the water. It felt great, but the drake was not giving up. After two more rounds, the mallard went eastward towards some reeds. Steve chose to leave his labrador retriever behind so he could pursue the persistent duck. Once he was in the general area, I noticed the drake again moving away in the opposite direction. I shouted to Steve, told him to look left, he stood up and quickly dispatched the mallard. Meanwhile, his dog was absolutely going insane in the blind and I tried everything to convince Onyx that her daddy was coming right back. Finally, Steve returned with the mallard that we now had a share in bagging and proudly handed to me and congratulated me with my first freshwater mallard.

My take: Steve, exhausted from the row, exited for me, myself, amped and ready for more! Onyx, happy her owner had finally come back...

For some time, we had some chances, surprises, and misgivings while the rain got progressively worse just like the duck hunting. We were sitting on one duck and I was hoping for at least one more chance. Steve had done so much to show me a good time and one more flock could make this hunt a huge success. Alas, my hopes were met by a golden opportunity as three mallards approached from the northwest and turned towards the decoys to land into the northeast wind. I fired first and dropped the lead bird, while Steve fired upon another. The third lighted into the decoys but suspended itself slowly as if to gain altitude from a wind that suddenly seemed absent. Within a fraction of a second, I broadcast a flurry of Kent Fasteel number two shot at the remaining bird. As with the others, she fell amongst her companions ending a most exciting moment in our day. Steve promptly unleashed his dog for a retrieve and ended up retrieving all three in wonderful fashion. For a second in time, I wished I had a labrador retriever but then returned to reality and appreciated the fact that my dog ownership days will not be until the children grow up. Nevertheless, that 5 minutes of our day seemed as if it belonged on a hunting show, absolutely perfect.

My take: Steve, swelled up like a tom approaching a hen turkey, myself, relieved to see my friends day become in my eyes much better other than showing me a great time

To be honest, our luck went back to tradition as the birds officially discovered that every possible place on that lake might result in their own demise. The ducks were flying high, the sky-busters were still shooting at high fliers just like the Iraqis shooting into the sky at our stealth fighters with no avail, and we actually found ourselves with our newfound success actually relaxing with some dried pollack, taking some pictures, and raving about Onyx's flawless retrieves. And then it happened, one more hen mallard was fast approaching from the southwest and flying straight at the face of our blind. It wasn't like the other ducks, this one was committed worse than a lonely eider finding its way into my eider decoys. She sped towards us without any haste, but then shot up to the sky like a space shuttle in flight to outer space. I offered a shot with little luck, but out of nowhere Steve points to the sky leaning backwards and presents this ridiculous shot at the hen. It was a vertical shot directly above us and it rewarded us with temporary flurry of feathers as I watched the hen drop over us and into the water behind the blind. Amazed, I couldn't even begin to describe how Steve had pulled this one off other than it was 60% skill and 40% luck. Hell, that shot would have been lucky for anybody, but Steve made it happen and I still can't explain how he even got a shot off even after I had taken the best possible shot at the rising mallard.

As I videotaped Onyx retrieving the hen mallard, Steve managed to be in the video qualifying himself as a rock star and for that moment in time, he earned it. What an amazing shot!

My take: Steve, the real life bobble-head swelled up so bad he may never come back to Earth, myself, still laughing to my amazement how he pulled off that shot

After that, we joked about our neighbors the sky-busters and wondered how well they were doing. In the midst of the entire day that had been full of surprises and laughter, I noticed that Steve's tone was faltering as I realized that his jokes had some hidden anger. The sportsmanship in him seemed to address his dismay in their actions, I kept reminding him of our great day and all the great things but it still didn't change the fact that he had to share a lake with some scrubs who didn't seem to share in his passion for the best hunting practices. This became the part of the day where the eternal optimist was getting frustrated.

My take: Steve, going to the dark side and ready to shed his light saber, myself, still elated with the day and preparing myself for breaking down camp

At 10 o'clock we called it quits, Steve would take the dog and a bulk of the hunting gear back to his truck and I would break down the camp and package everything else. After about 15 minutes, Steve returned and explained that he had run into a biologist with the U.S. Department of Agriculture who was checking ducks for the avian bird flu. Steve also mentioned that his buddies in the blind to our south had just pulled in, so he didn't waste much time in leaving. I did suggest asking the biologist whether or not they had success, for we had been watching them move all about and sauntering along in a canoe throughout the marsh. I thought maybe they were moving decoys, but when we reached the landing we asked the biologist about their luck. To our surprise, the sky-busters had nothing but had informed him that it looked like some other groups were having some luck. I could see a grin forming on Steve's face as he realized that their improper hunting tactics were rewarded with the proverbial goose egg.

My take: Steve, somehow turned it around with the sky-buster's lack of success, myself, thrilled with a great day but seriously exhausted and still looking at a three hour ride home.

We loaded all the gear, had a pleasant discussion with the biologist, and drove back to Steve's abode. After unpacking and shifting my gear back to my car, I went in to take a shower, eat some lunch, and enjoy a cup of coffee masterfully concocted by Steve's wife. By noontime and after we had watched our videos of the hunt, I began my journey back home. To look back at my first ever freshwater duck hunt, I wouldn't change a thing. It all ended up with the glass full.

The Opener with the Rabid Outdoorsman: Part Three

2008-10-16T14:13:00.015-04:00

After furnishing the blind with the essentials for tomorrow (guns, ammo, camouflage clothing, and everything else we would NOT need for the rest of the night), Steve quickly set out the decoys as I used a spotlight to assess the distance necessary for what we would call quality gunning. I found myself trying to say good night to my little girls via cell phone while racing against a sun that had already set. Once the “I love you” and “see you tomorrow” and “be good for mommy” were shared, I tossed the phone into my pocket and watched Steve throw out the last wood duck decoy.

My take: Steve, talking strategy and distance of the dekes, myself, just the same, all good, but getting hungry

We paddled along the east side of the island for a suitable access point to the center of the island and tied the boat to a sturdy oak tree. From there, we moved to the center of the island which was only about 120 feet from the “Quack Head” blind. Steve then did mention there was a fire pit, that got my pyromaniacal side going quite well. The race against time had been finished, setting up camp was now the current procedure.

My take: Steve, focused on readiness, myself, I'm building a fire, hell yeah!!!

Set up didn't take long, Steve, an experienced and knowledgeable mountain climber, outdoorsman, and collector of all equipment cool and multi-useful popped up a tent in 4 seconds while proudly introducing me to this single person mummy bag and tent. Not that I”m claustrophobic, well maybe a little bit, but I'm not an avid tenter. Actually, it's something that I don't usually do, the last tenting excursion was with my 4 year old this summer and we were four feet from the house, in aerobeds, and enjoying a movie with some popcorn.

You see it's like this, Steve likes mountains, world travel, sky diving, near death experiences, frostbite, pain, and adrenaline whereas I have never climbed a mountain, would rather stay in Maine unless someone leads the way out of state, find water and land just fine since I'm not meant to fly, damn it... I must be getting timid in my old age.

My take: Steve, loving the fact I'm pondering the mummy bag, myself, “This is going to be a sucky nights sleep”...

Steve fired up the stove and got the canned pasta ready, I played boy scout and tried to get a blaze going with some fairly wet amenities... As a true testament to Steve, he gave me a half-spent book of matches. With maple and oak leaves amongst some pine needles as tinder, the fire seemed sluggish getting to the smaller sticks as my dismay continued. After some continued failed attempts, Steve promptly handed me a lighter and suggested that this would help. To be honest, I thought, “Classic”, but then continued with my efforts. Eventually the fire caught on and with some help of Steve's cooking napalm and an increasing breeze. Once camp was settled, we sat down in some folding cushions provided by the bearer of all things cool and awesome. Then began some dialogue over two bottles of wine fashioned in the cellar of Steve's abode. And yeah, my fire croaked and the Maine Outdoorsman had to save the day. Whatever, I wish I hadn't even messed with the idea and I could see that crap eating grin bubble under Steve's facial scruff.

My take: Steve, relishing the survival test and my utter failure, myself, he's going to write about that damn fire!!!

Steve and I talk hunting, fishing, and the outdoors; but our conversations have become much more than just the size of the deer or the number of fish. We engage in a dialogue that often finds ourselves comparing notes, suggesting better practices, and how does our efforts result in the betterment of our lifestyles. More often than not we talk about our future in the outdoors with our children, Steve has two boys while I have two girls. A concern for both of us is that with changing attitudes towards our lifestyle, how can we maintain our “sport” while preserving so much of what we love for our children?

The night went from how Steve made the wine and whether or not his time invested actually offset the costs to go to a supermarket for something similar, a discussion about our blogs and the direction we want them to go, dialogue about whether or not cell phones have improved society or created even more problems for us to deal with, how we influence our children to make our world better against how our world will influence our children, and our hopes for the future. Not once did we talk about politics or the sewage that disperses with every lie, promise, and action. The time we spend together is about enjoying life, improving our world with our efforts, and the experiences generated from our different but connected worlds.

My take: Steve, in his element doing what he does best, myself, appreciating this time with my buddy and feeling that our sporting community is better for our discussions
We turned in about 11 p.m. and I knew tomorrow was going to be tough as our alarms were set for 4:30...

That's right, the alarm clock was set for 4:30 a.m., I wished I could have slept until then, by 3:30 I had been bombarded with falling acorns, the need to relieve myself, and a variety of sounds that including paddles, outboard engines, and talk amongst those hunters in the boats. There were thousands of dollars worth of equipment in that blind, I just couldn't get back in the sleeping bag and I demanded that Steve get ready. However, he seemed not as anxious about the potential crisis that loomed before daylight. Things weren't cool with me.

With my spotlight I ran towards the blind crashing through brush and trees shinning towards any fellow duck hunters to alert them of our “squatting”. I did get near the blind, but couldn't reach it as the water, muck, and a pair of boots (not waders, I hunt out of a boat, on the coast, and in trees) prohibited an easy access to our blind. Meanwhile, geese were honking in alarm and taking off into the darkness.

I figured that since things were going so well, I called Steve on the cell phone to announce that the hunting parties were heading elsewhere as if I hadn't already scared every duck out of the lake. I at best, meandered back up to the campsite,sort of on edge with the events of my pre-dawn mayhem. But honestly, I'm not sure Steve was worried at all. He is optimistic about life, myself slightly pessimistic with optimism as reason to function. When I got back, he seemed all ready for some hunting and suggested that the camp site could be broken after hunting.

My take: Steve, going with the flow, myself, panic button, wishing I could trust strangers more...

We arrived in the blind about 5 a.m., readied what we could, and then got into the coffee, Steve's heart attack blend should be renamed to “what the %$## (insert any four letter word you would like) is that?”. Oh god, wasn't that nasty, if anybody took a drink of that they would agree, now I'm not a latte fan but I do like a moderately strong cup of joe with a hit of sugar. If there is some cream available then I'll add a bit, but if none is available then I'm fine. The only reason I dared drink it was that I didn't sleep well at all, caffeine and duck hunting work well together, but this stuff seemed comparative to the coffee you get at a convienence store in the afternoon after it had been brewed at 4 a.m. and sat there all day long. Actually, this was worse.

Steve was so proud about his efforts, he boiled water and tempered the thermos, double brewed the coffee, boiled it, then put it in the thermos. He did a good job, it was piping hot straight out the thermos. Other than that, that was the worst coffee I have ever put to my lips. Think of the person that you like the least, I'd give it to them on your behalf...

My take: Steve, a master brewer of coffee, myself, I should have had a tester to die before I put my lips to the joe.

Check out the Rabid Outdoorsman's version which isn't so favorable for the Downeast Duckhunter at
The Maine Outdoorsman

Bands, Bling Bling Baby, Bands..

2008-10-15T08:27:00.014-04:00

Matt Diesel, Drake Eider taken October 11, 2008
________________________________

The Rabid Outdoorsman, Hen Eider taken December, 2007
________________________________

Hen Eider, taken December 28, 2006
______________________________
I had to do a write up on sea duck bands, especially since I was witness to the taking of a drake eider this past weekend. Sometimes in hunting, we get involved in something that seems to elevate the modest traditions of waterfowling. In this case, attaining a banded duck is a fairly big deal. The hunter gets a memoir of his or her day, an unforgettable experience. Additionally, that same hunter then finds oneself taking part in the scientific portion of the migration of that bird. Then, the Bird Band Lab and the USGS get to monitor all the ducks taken or found throughout in an attempt to learn more about these marvelous creatures. So when somebody attains a banded duck, a whole new learning curve takes shape. Here's my story about a unique experience I had with my second banded eider from 2006 as described from my entries from one of my favorite websites, Duck Hunting Chat.

January 2, 2007
I went local on Thursday, December 28, 2006 with my best man and another good buddy and since neither had ever chased eider, old squaws, and coots I thought I'd let them doing plenty of blasting. I did take two shots before my buddy lost his magazine cap, plug, and spring into the Atlantic (he then would need to use my Xtrema2) and scored a drake old squaw and a banded hen. The band was so worn that only four numbers existed along with some words, I called it in to explain my situation and they referred me to the lab in MD. They explained that since the band is stamped that the numbers actually go through the band. With their CSI technology they can determine the numbers, so needless to say I'm excited to find out the details.

January 3, 2007
So I've been in contact with the Bird Band Lab down in Laurel, MD and the representative got me onto their website and I encourage all to check it out. It's
http://www.pwrc.usgs.gov/bbl/

Then I got a little more fierce and found some information on banded eiders and the guy who banded mine at Petit Manan refuge. It's
http://www.seaduckjv.org/studies/pro3/pr14.pdf

January 30, 2007
After more than a month of waiting, the BBL has returned my band from the hen taken off of Jonesport. They have informed me that they acquired the information necessary and will be sending me the information. Should have it reasonable soon, I'll be posting as soon as I receive the data.

February 13, 2007
I would have put this on the bird band post, but felt more people would check out a new post rather than visit the old one...

Got my data back from the hen eider I shot shortly after x-mas and the bird was banded in 1994 in Sonora, Nova Scotia which is closer to Louisbourg (one of Great Britain's stronghold's in the colonial era) than Halifax. The bird is believed to have been born in 1993 or better. That makes the hen at least 13-14 years old.

My other banded bird this year (actually ever) was banded on the petit manan wildlife refuge off of Milbridge in 2003, now all I need to do is get my wife convinced to have two eiders on the wall next to the moose and several deer. Suppose I'll have to make a "duckroom" in the basement.

Here's a map of where Sonora is...
http://ca.epodunk.com/profiles/nova-scotia/sonora/2005117.html

Drake Eider, November 2006

The Power of a Woman...

2008-10-14T21:23:00.005-04:00

Tonight my wife of 5 years informed me that "It's almost impossible for me to read your blog" for the simple reason of the white lettering against the black background. Now I thought it was cool and brought out my eyes... So anyways, let me know what you think about my new neutral and natural background with the dashing black lettering, but remember that your input isn't as important as my wife's...

Today, I looked at it and thought it didn't suit me well, so I have increased the font and might go back to black with grey letters...

But I'm not doing too much yet, I've only received one e-mail who understands my pain... Sometimes, love hurts...

The Opener with the Rabid Outdoorsman: Part Two

2008-10-14T10:29:00.007-04:00

This submission will put our co-existent blogs at the same place as I have two parts to the Rabid Outdoorsman's first submission...

At the landing...
I bear witness to an obvious excitement and assurance in Steve's demeanor. Too often has he pledged his time traveling east to meet up with his brother, Matt, and myself for a hunt. Rarely have I been able to join Steve and appreciate his efforts and dedication to embrace the outdoors. Repeatedly, he would urge me to accompany him for a turkey hunt, trap shot, or fishing trip but often I deferred. Somehow, I can't find the time whereas he finds, or rather makes the time. I admire him for that, he seems to be flawless in how he manages work, family, and his own time without any obvious signs of dissent. However, I do expect his world to change some when his wife re-enters the workforce from her maternity leave. When that happens, I'll smile and suggest to him that it was a good run.

Without haste, we set out for our destination, apparently a speck of an island, only to find that spot already garnished with an assortment of decoys. In the center of that quality spread, sat two fellow waterfowlers behind a blind next to a tent on an island about twenty feet in diameter. They too would be spending the night before the opener. Steve obviously knew them, sailed closer, and we chatted for a bit, but a quickly setting sun required a move to plan B. Steve looked at me and proclaimed that “Quack head” was our next stop. Ah, the legendary gunning hole that Steve spoke so well of, but I then was wondering why wasn't this special point of interest our first choice?

My take: Steve, the Rabid Outdoorsman reactive, but still positive and myself, dented but hoping for the best... Quack head here we come...

In about 5 minutes we arrived at the far side of this larger, but still small island. At the southern tip as we began to idle along was this fixed blind constructed of wood about 8 feet in width, 5 feet in depth, and covered by roof. Absolutely no work had been done to cover the blind, and little did I know that this would become my job while Steve motored back to get the rest of his gear and his trusty companion “Onyx”. With my instructions rendered, I mulled my circumstances and then began clipping brush and covering this blind.

My take: Steve, excited about our possibilities, myself racing against the dark, slightly stressed but functioning

We have seen quite a bit of rain these past few weeks and the water level seemed to me rather high, the blind almost seemed to be on the end of a peninsula of submerged brush and cover. Only a little strip of dry land connected the blind to the island, well at least I thought when I tried to get some more brush further away from the blind and aptly discovered that I was “stranded” with my muck boots.

Steve returned with the dog and seemed encouraged by my work, hell I've never put a leafy branch on some chicken wire, but I didn't think it was rocket science. However, these birds had been flying by the box blind without any cover for several months now and I wondered if my efforts would actually increase our odds of getting more ducks. Besides that, Steve seemed content with the work and started handing me our gear for the hunt.

My take: Steve, eager for camp, myself, encouraged by Steve's reaction to my work

Check out Rabid's post on his angle...

The Duckman Cometh...