Dirtroad Stories

I just checked the weather for Wisconsin.  Snowfall over night with a low of 30.  I remember the first year that I made the trip to Wisconsin.  I was so used to the fall weather of Kentucky and to see snow that early confused me.  We had arrived overnight and were getting breakfast at the local cafe.  We were going to hunt the mid-morning after a few errands, have lunch and hunt the evening.  Much like today, a front was scheduled to come through.  The mid-day hunt went well and we had several early flushes.  I was thrilled to find Wisconsin as good as advertised.  We had lunch and then headed to a location that had been passed down to us from a friend and fellow bird hunter.  The area was a gas line.  There were hardwoods and popular stands on either side.  In the evenings, the grouse would feed in the edges.  As the evening went on and the number of flushes climbed, it began to snow.  The snow started slow and then increased in speed as time passed.  We were getting a light dusting and decided to head back.  Coming back up the gas line, we were amazed to find the ground quickly becoming dusted in snow.  We loaded up the dogs and made our way to the main road.  It was a little sketchy for the first mile or so.  When we arrived back at the cabin, the snow was really coming down.  We made dinner and watched the snow through the picture window.  Crashing early, we rose before sunrise to about an inch of snow on the ground.  A beautiful morning along the river, I took a walk down to the dock.  Geese came down the river and settled in the turn of the bank 75 yards aways.  I watched them enjoy the early winter as they splashed and chased each other around the bend.    Walking back up to the cabin, I couldn’t believe that it was so early in October.  Even the dogs looked confused.  We dressed warmly and headed over to the cafe.  We were informed that this happens all the time and most locals have their snowmobiles ready by late September.  By the middle of the day, the snow had melted off and the temperatures were back in the mid 50s.  That first snowfall in Wisconsin just amazed me.  Hopefully some hunters are taking advantage of this beautiful weather and early snow this October.

I miss the fall turkey season.  GA DNR has us killing three toms in the two month spring season, but neglects us in the fall.  Fall turkey season in KY was great.  It opened on October 1st and ran through the end of the year.  This was an archery only season, which made difficult hunting near impossible.  Turkeys flock up in the fall, so unlike the spring you can’t call them off the roost and get their attention with subtle, sexy hen calls.  Fall season takes a little luck and some weird fun.  The recommended way to hunt fall turkeys is to break up the flock and try to call them back together.  How often is a hunter encouraged to run at the game, flailing their arms, and screaming?  This is the way to break up the flock.  You can attempt to stalk and take a shot at a bird, but with between 15-30 sets of eyes roaming the landscape, good luck going unnoticed.

The farm that I hunted had a good size fall flock that I encountered on many occasions.  I had won the spring battle taking a quality tom after a two-hour song and dance with a bird that should have won.  In the end, I outsmarted him (later story).  The fall victories went to the turkeys though.  I lost arrows, scarred my knees, and almost fell out of a tree stand in my attempts to harvest a fall bird.  The best opportunity was the day that I turned the corner in the open field to see the entire flock standing at 30 yards.  I stepped back, drew the bow back, and jumped out shooting quickly.  Unfortunately, in all the confusion of the birds scattering when I came around the corner, I don’t think I ever picked out a target and the arrow went sailing over all their heads.  No scattering the flock this day.  They all took off running in the same direction and off the property.

One morning I was sitting in my tree stand deer hunting when the flock came through.  The closest birds were coming down the trail at about 40 yards.  I don’t shoot with sights, so this was towards the end of my comfortable range.  I drew back and took aim on a jake.  I shot right on-line to see the arrow, once again sail over his back.  The flock began to scatter.  I grabbed another arrow from my quiver.  I turned back to see a turkey flying towards me.  I swung on this bird and released the arrow to watch the bird change his mind at that exact moment and drop to the ground.  The arrow buried itself into a tree about 15 feet above the ground.  I lost my balance and slipped off the top step of the stand.  I hated this stand, so I always sat on the floor board and put my feet on the steps.  I landed on the floor board and took a few seconds to recover.  I decided this tree was not for me.  I climbed down, bruised both from the slip and the ego from two missed opportunities and went to find the one arrow that was recoverable.  I headed to the truck and declared the turkeys the winners.

Finally, late in the season, I thought I had them.  The flock was coming through the hardwoods and towards the field and I decided to follow the advice of the locals.  I set my bow on the ground and took off running after them.  Turkeys were going every where; it was great.  I kept running determined to break them up completely to give myself the best opportunity to call them back together when oomph!  I hit the ground face first.  Well that was fun.  Running in hunting boots and winter gear was not in the books.  I picked myself up and wiped the blood from my face.  No big deal, just a small cut and some more bruises.  I am not sure how the turkeys continued to bruise me, but nothing else beat me up this bad.  I went back and got the bow and headed to the fenceline to set up.  I waited until I heard calling and then I answered.  We called back and forth for about an hour.  I watched as all the birds gathered back together about 200 yards away and off the property.  Turkeys win yet again.

We battled each other constantly over the next 3 seasons with the turkeys winning each and every one of them.  Finally KY decided to open a fall gun season and I moved to GA.  I am sure that the turkeys aren’t beating everyone now that the hunters are cheating, but they had my number.  Some day when GA decides to open a fall season, I will get my revenge on them but until then the score looks like a Cubs game…

Kenny – 0 Turkeys – A LOT!

Many people like Indian Summer.  Indian Summer frustrates me.  We have had the cooler days and colder nights and then bam! Warm weather returns.  Not to stress though.  October meant grouse season in the Mid-West.  It was the first workout of the year for the bird dogs and time for us to head north to Wisconsin.  I saved my vacation for this week to ten days each year.  We would head north up I-65 through Indianapolis and Chicago.  Once you hit the border it was two lane highway through about 20 small town USAs.  We normally arrived in the middle of the night.  The fishing “resort” we stayed at would leave the keys to the cabin in the mailbox for us.  We would unload, take a short nap, and head down the road to a small cafe for breakfast.  Across the street was an outdoor store that we would pick up our tags.  Down the road about a mile was the location of the DNR office.  We would stop by and say hello to the local game wardens.  Extremely friendly locals everywhere we went were used to a handful of out of town hunters that came through each season.

The leaves had begun to change.  This area tended to have more yellows than the other fall colors.  There would be stretches of gravel roads that had yellow canopies covering the road.  It was beautiful and a warm day was 55 degrees.  Perfect weather for grouse hunting.  We would head down the logging roads and start the hunts.  Those stories are still to come.

When we returned to KY in the middle of the month, Indian Summer normally had ended and it was cool enough to get into the deer stands.  In Georgia, the entire fall feels like Indian Summer.  Today the rains had ended, but it was humid and warm.  I will wait until next week when the temps drop and then I will get back into the woods.  Grouse season hasn’t started yet in Georgia so it will be bear and deer hunting until November.

It has rained all day.  Not a little rain…serious rain.  The kind of rain that when you drive down the road you think you are crossing creeks and not driving on city streets.  There are only so many hours you can spend walking around the outdoor stores before you want to go.  Even though I had the evening off, I opted to stay home.  I think it was the flooded garage that made me think twice.

Thinking back, rain hunts have typically been good hunts.  Not necessarily during the rain, but immediately after seems good.  I remember as a child being told stories of the guys that stuck through the hurricanes, just knowing how good the hunting was going to be the next few days.  That might be a little extreme, but who doesn’t like extreme?  Last year, I raced out to get up a tree before an early fall front came through.  I picked a good tree and started up it with the climber stand.  I was set and ready when it hit.  Wow did I regret this decision!  25 feet up a tree with lightning, rain, and the wind swinging the tree had me holding on tight.  I would have lowered the rifle to the ground if I was willing to let go of the tree, but as it turned out I had become a tree hugger.  After 45 minutes of questioning my sanity (which happens often during hunting season), the storm let up.  Now was why I was up there.  The sun began to shine through the trees and the temperatures were dropping.  The woods began to have a strange glow.  Somehow the mixture of rain and late evening sunlight, was illuminating the woods.  As the time passed, here came the deer.  They were moving from the bedding area to my left and working their way off to the hardwood stand to feed.  The first doe knew something wasn’t right.  She was being overly cautious and keeping plenty of brush between the two of us.  The second deer had no clue.  I decided to try to take her.  She was working through the brush, but I saw what appeared to be an opening.  When she stepped into it, I pulled the trigger.  Unfortunately, I did not get the reaction I expected.  There was a branch that had gone unnoticed between the rifle and the deer.  It came crashing to the ground.  Deer scattered around me.  Dark was approaching quickly as I watched the first doe try to sneak back past me at 75 yards.  I wasn’t interested in shooting again.  The third deer that had stayed out of sight before the shot came walking up from behind the stand.  It was a spike buck.  He decided to come up and sniff the rope that was hanging from my stand.  After 10 seconds of smelling the rope, he reversed his way down the trail.  I waited until after dark to come down the tree.  Just in case, I took my flashlight over and checked the spot where I had shot.  No such luck- clean miss.  Some hunts go this way.  If I had stayed at home in the rain, I would have missed the strange glow of the woods that night and seeing several deer acting very odd.  Don’t miss going or you may miss out.

Sometimes when I haven’t been in the woods or on the water in a few days, I start to think back to days that I have been.  With September wrapping up and October starting, it quickly becomes my favorite time of the year.  Although once again this year I did not take advantage of early goose or duck seasons, that wasn’t always the case.  When living in Kentucky, there was a 5 day stretch that I would never miss.  Starting on a Wednesday around the middle of the month was wood duck season.  I am sure that there were many hunters that capitalized on this better than me, but I took this as an opportunity to break out of the summer slump.  Fishing by the end of August has slowed down and I never cared to hunt for squirrels.  When that Wednesday rolled around, it was time to get back out.  Many times someone would talk me into putting a boat on the water and sneak back into a creek with a half-dozen decoys, but this wasn’t my favorite way to hunt.  I had a WMA area that I been shown over the years the location of a string of ponds that were left off the maps.  Growing up I had read about map makers that were outdoors people who “left” areas off the maps.  This was definitely the case with this area’s map for which I was thankful.

There were 5 ponds along the trail.  The first one was located about 100 yards off the road, but barely noticeable.  It was about 3/4 of an acre and almost always had a pair of wood ducks on it.  With a little sneakiness, it often led to a quick shot.  Then you had to hike about a half mile down the trail.  This is why I would hunt here.  You could begin to scout for deer season.  We would often drift off the duck hunt to scout the hardwoods for signs of deer.  Once back on the trail, you would find a pond about 1/10th of an acre.  This one was nearly impossible to sneak up on.  The ducks would flush long before you even thought to begin the stalk.  One time I saw as many as a dozen ducks flush of this tiny pond.  It was an amazing little spot.  About another mile back you would find the last pond on this side of the road.  This one had an old fence to one side of it.  I knew several guys that would sit along this fence late in deer season and find the deer moving through like it was a highway.  The pond never had ducks on it, but I would always walk the extra distance to look at the deer sign.  It was amazing to never find ducks here since it was only a 1/4 mile from the main lake.  There was a fox that frequent this area though and wood ducks don’t like foxes.  That hike would normal take about two hours.  When getting back to the main road, you would cross it and find the trail on the opposite side.  Once on the trail it was only about 200 yards to the fourth pond.  Deer tracks lined the edge of this pond.  It was only 25 yards long and 15 yards wide and never had more than a foot of water in it.  I am never sure why I even walked up to this pond other than to look at deer tracks.  Sometimes you would find a nice sized track that would go unnoticed by the untrained eye.  With two weeks until the start of deer season, this would just stir the urge.  Moving down the trail you would eventually find the largest of the 5 ponds.  Located in the back of a field that was planted every season for doves and quail, was this beautiful little gem.  Rarely were there ducks on it, but this one you carried a fishing pole to instead of the shotgun.  Just over an acre in size, it held quality bass, bream, and catfish.  Always a fun little spot to take half an hour and throw a roostertail.  Most people wouldn’t make the walk, therefore you always had the place to yourself.  As I have found true of most things I do in the outdoors; it isn’t necessarily about the success as much as it is about the experience.  This was always just a great day to kick off the hunting season.

After another great night of sleep under the stars, morning came too soon.  Waking up as light slowly broke over the mountain, I pulled on my boots and headed to the truck.  I made the short drive up the mountain and took off down the logging road again.  This time I made sure to take my time and look over every spot.  All I was seeing was squirrels.  It was a beautiful morning on top of the mountain anyways.  Coming back down the mountain, I once again encountered the turkeys.  They must be hating me by this point.  They have been chased down the road by the Trailblazer for three straight days.  I get back to camp to find Casey awake.  We mix together what is left in the cooler, put cheese over it and call it breakfast.  It actually tasted good, but then again, we are camping.  This meal isn’t going into the rotation of a normal kitchen.  We sneak back down the creek and attempt to stir up the fish again.  Once again they are immune to our passes.  We move down the creek a little further but find no new fish.  We decide to take a little time and practice with the bows before we head home.  We take an empty gallon water jug and fill it with water from the creek and place it at 30 yards.  Two shots later we each have a hole in the jug.  We shoot for about half an hour emptying the water through the abundance of holes that we have put through it.  We decide it is probably time to return to the real world.  We begin to break down camp.  Casey is beginning to show some experience and camp comes down in a hurry.  The trucks load up quickly and organized.  We take few minutes to enjoy the beauty of the mountains while finishing off the final Pepsi for me and Coke for Casey that we had in our cooler.  This was our que.  Time to go home.  We took our time driving out of the mountains to avoid disaster on the one lane gravel road.  We hit the main road and part ways.  It was definitely a windows down music up kind of day, but without the same enthusiasm that I had entered the mountains with three days earlier.  I arrived at the house and unloaded the truck and put the seats back up.  It is almost time for my first child to enter the world so I got the car seat ready to put in the truck.  Don’t worry though…the tree stand and the bow are still in the back of the truck just in case…

Well the night got a little chilly.  The temps dropped into the low 30s and the breeze made the night even cooler.  I got up a little after 6 am and got into my camo.  Stepping out of the tent was actually colder than I thought.  Putting a log on the fire and then got in the truck to go back up the mountain.  Daylight was breaking over the trees when I headed into the woods. Somehow it felt warmer at the top of the mountain.  I moved down the same trail as the night before.  I took my time and moved carefully.  About a 1/2 mile down the trail, I found some very fresh scat.  Knowing that there was a bear in this area the night before, I proceeded cautiously.  I spent the next hour picking my way over the trail looking for more sign.  Finding nothing, I decided it was time for breakfast and headed down the mountain.  We fixed breakfast and decided to go look for fish.  Driving the gravel roads, we found some turkeys in the road.  They moved quickly to avoid the truck.  We parked in several different spots and moved up and down the creek looking for fish.  We found a few, but they showed no interest.  Crossing the creek several times with the truck, we found a better campsite.  Casey and I decided to move camp.  We drove back and broke down camp, loaded up, and reset in an hour.  For Casey, driving his Dodge through the creek was a highlight of the trip.  Casey was impressed with the speed we had used to set camp.  I told him that experience pays off in the woods.  We headed back down into the creek.  A small pool was holding about a dozen small mouth bass and trout.  Changing lures several times proved unsuccessful.  We decided to explore the creek.  We began moving up-stream jumping from rock to rock.  About 500 yards up the stream we found a waterfall that came down into a large pool.  This area quickly became a photo shoot and we got some great pictures of a hidden treasure in the foothills of the Appalachians.   We managed to work our way back down stream without falling in the creek or dropping our cameras.  At this point it was time to get ready to head back up the mountain.  With our new campsite there was a big washed out hill to the one side.  We set up a make shift archery range and took several practice shots.  Proving ready, we headed back to the spot I had already been to twice.  After parking and grabbing our gear, we headed down the logging road.  This was my third trip down the road in two days.  We crossed under the closed gate and headed up hill.  I had the lead and was moving slowly.  Not more than a 1/4 mile down the road, I noticed something out of place.  Stepping to the side, Casey whispered, “What?”  I pulled up my binoculars and scanned the bushes.  I knew I was seeing a dark shape, but was struggling to figure it out.  Then the shape had a head and the head was moving around.  I quickly whispered, “BEAR!”  Casey could see him over my shoulder and I quietly but excitedly asked if it was over 75 lbs.  When the bear stepped into the road, that doubt was quickly erased.  This was a big bear.  Very big in fact.  The bear slowly moved to the left and then quartered towards us from about 45 yards away.  I had a large tree lined up with the bear so I was able to get the bow ready.  Trying to stay still was difficult with the adrenaline that was running for both of us.  After about two minutes Casey could see the bear about 75 yards below us and crossing the gravel road.  Once there, I told Casey that we would not stalk.  The other side of that gravel road, the world drops off.  It is almost vertical and I declared the bear the victor.  We walked the remainder of the road and then headed back.  Casey threw a few casts towards dark as I prepared dinner.  Once again, the fish won.  The evening was beautiful.  We continued to pile wood on the campfire and tell stories.  Shortly after midnight we decided to call it a night.  The temps were dropping but not like the night before.  We knew that we only had a half day left, but what a great Day 2.

I said in a previous post that nothing was better than experience…well I got that this week and shared some more.  I headed up into the Smoky Mountains on Monday afternoon.  After setting up camp along the creek, I went to high ground to look for bears.  Parking the truck on the side of the mountain with the ebrake on, I decided to travel down an old logging road.  Walking in about a mile, I found a spot I liked.  The thick brush behind me was very steep, but down below me was more open forest of hardwoods.  Stopped on the logging road, I could see up hill for about 40 yards and downhill for about 125 yards.  Several hunters had suggested vanilla extract as a cover scent?  Skeptical, but that quickly vanished.  I poured out a small amount on a dead tree in front of me and barely had time to get my bow back in my hand before I heard crashing coming from uphill.  Quickly reaching for the quiver, disappointment instantly set in…during all the preparation for this hunt I had missed a crucial step.  All of the arrows still had field points and no broadheads.  I stood there shocked at my mistake.  Even rookies remember to switch back their arrows.  Had I really done this?  While all these evil thoughts of myself crossed my mind, the crashing continued.  All of sudden, a smaller bear, but big enough appeared on the logging road.  Without seeing a lot of bears, I assumed him to be about 100-125 pounds.  Standing broadside at 27 yards, I was left with nothing to do but stare.  He stayed in the road for 30 seconds before heading down the hill and out of sight.  Retreating to the truck and cussing myself the entire way, I switched back the arrowheads.  After exploring the area a little more and making plans for the morning, dark was closing in quickly so I headed back to the truck.  Arriving back at camp, I realized that Casey hadn’t made it yet.  Warning him not to try those roads by himself in the dark, I went into town to meet him.  We returned to camp about an hour later.  After some creative fire building and heating up the soup, it was story time.  I told Casey about the adventures of the afternoon and promised an exciting Day 2.

In the morning, I am headed to the mountains for three days.  This is a trip that has been in the making since I moved to Georgia in 2005.  I had read about the Chattahoochee National Forest before moving to Georgia.  I knew that there were opportunities for grouse, bear, and deer in the mountains.  I have had no success with grouse in GA other than flushing one when I was hiking in Black Rock Mountain several years ago.  This trip is about bears and stream fishing.  About a month ago, I decided to lock in this trip for this year.  I am not sure that my very understanding wife will be so understanding once the baby comes next month.  I know that I will be able to hunt, but I don’t think a 3 day trip to the mountains will come with a smile next fall.  The plan is to camp along the stream and bear hunt in the mornings and evenings and stream fish during the day.

Coming with me is my friend, Casey.  He is trying to improve his outdoor standing.  Last year, we got him involved in fishing.  Now he is constantly looking for an excuse to go fishing.  When he heard about this trip, he was in.  Not only is he going fishing, but he bought a bow today so he can start learning the hunting side of the outdoors.  He got a great deal and the set is perfect for a motivated beginner.  We will get him some practice shots in this week…

Stream fishing is something that I did in KY for small-mouth bass, but trout will be a new experience.  I have done my homework, but I know from everything else, nothing is better than experience…

Saying I have spent my entire life in the outdoors might be an understatement.  When I was 9 months old, my dad had me in one of those backpack carriers knee-deep in a creek small-mouth fishing.  Apparently a snake came swimming by and I came over his shoulder trying to get to it.  I don’t care for snakes as much today, but I do everything I can to be outdoors.  I even found a job that I get to be outside on a fairly regular basis.  I was afforded many great opportunities over the years and I have found the more hours you spend outdoors the more opportunities you would get.  I have seen some of the most beautiful sites that people indoors only see on pictures with fancy quotes in doctor’s offices that are meant to make you feel better.  Fortunately for me, I have gotten to live many of these pictures.  My wife and I moved to North Georgia in 2005.  After growing up hunting, fishing, and hiking in the Midwest, moving to the Deep South was a culture shock.  I found Georgia to be a completely different experience.  I have never sat in a tree stand in Kentucky in late November in a t-shirt and wishing I was in shorts which is what I have found often happens in Georgia.  Battling an extreme overtime job and somehow being blessed with an overly understanding wife, I have finally started to have success outdoors in Georgia.  This blog is going to tell the stories of friends and family’s current adventures in Georgia and beyond along with stories of the past in Kentucky, Indiana, Wisconsin, and more…