08-29-11
When I look at the yellow dog I think where has the time gone? Bay is two years old now and we are preparing for her second hunting season.

I should say it is me who needs the preparation. This summer has been hot. Too hot to enjoy time afield. The pounds have a way of creeping up on you sitting next to an air conditioner. I am glad summer is winding down. And along with it the heat and bugs.

Our woods walks the last couple weeks have been for fun. It is a time for me to evaluate what is to come. Bay is as graceful as a deer. She would make a good running back the way she twists and turns. She quarters on instinct. Her nose vacuums the ground. I notice she is testing the wind more. She is listening well to the whistle. When we get close to water I know she can smell it because I can't keep her out of it. Bay is living up to her breed as a retriever. She is a strong and determined swimmer. No bumpers have been left behind.

This month things will get a little more serious. It is time to start wearing my orange bird vest. Bay knows this article of clothing well. It means birds. And birds are next on our list. There are a couple club hunts in our near future.

I like this one man, one dog thing. She is the best woods partner I've ever had. We communicate by eye contact, hand signals and whistles. Words are seldom spoken. I should have gotten a lab a long time ago.

We visited the Family Grounds Beaver Pond recently. What was some of the best deer habitat is now totally flooded. This is the second year of the pond. The wood ducks have had a whole year to find this lush wet meadow. Pretty soon we'll have to stay and watch what comes to roost.

As I transition back to being Elma Fudd I am glad I have both these tools by my side.

There is something about the whirl of wings. The smell of new fallen leaves. The bond between a man and a dog.

Walks along familiar trails. Critter tracks left behind in the mud.

It was on our way in and out of the beaver pond hunting ducks last year that I saw where the deer were crossing a certain seep. An hour into the opening day of deer season there was meat in the freezer.

Bird hunting season is a special time. The month of May starts with leafless trees. By Memorial Day we are in summer's bloom. At the beginning of of October our eyes are riveted to the leaves. By the end of October we are wishing for May.

Bay and I will be in Field 1 at the club Sunday looking for chukka partridge. They sit tight and don't fly far. Perfect practice for woodcock. Our bounty will be used frozen for water retrieving training.

I got permission today to hunt in some cover a few miles from home. Fields, gravel pits and river bottom. I hunted there with my springer, Brandy, so many years ago. A recent change of ownership has opened old opportunities.

It has been a long time since I have had a dog like Bay by my side. The yellow dog and I are looking forward to our autumn time afield.

And we, your VATurkey family, look forward to you and Bay's adventures this fall. We've watched both of you grow into a hunting pair that are inseperable. I anxiously await the reports of what fall and winter will bring....

Coalman...keep bringin it on down this way..lookin forward to all of your reports...

09-04-11
Our first scrimmage is in the books. Team Sampson made up of Bay and Coalman took on Team Chukka at Field Number One Sunday morning. We had a fog delay. The crowd was light.

A private meeting was set up before the game with the Head Coach of Team Chukka. My team is young. The members have practiced long but hadn't much playing time with live birds. Nick, the head coach of Team Chukka said his scouts have been watching us practice. His reports were encouraging.

Coach Nick was very experienced. He suggested plans and distances between his defense. He told me his ball carriers would play the middle of the field in the first cut of rough. He knew the heat would be a factor for my young team when the fog burned off.

He was so right.

After the opening whistle it didn't take long before both teams met. Coach Nick substituted a starter from the lineup. He put in his clown. Bay's sudden interest in the right side of the rough drew my attention quickly. Out of the grass a chukka flutters up six feet and lands. I encouraged her to make the kill. With confidence Bay pounced and missed which only caused another flutter and a land. Flutter and land, flutter and land.

Coach Nick called the right play but he didn't waste any time showing us his speedsters. One thing we didn't tell coach was we brought "Single Twenty" to the game today. A veteran of many winged hunts this ole timer can shoot true.

Our first break in the game was a mutual call. The temperature was making our uniforms uncomfortable to wear. When the vest was unloaded Team Sampson held a comfortable 5 to 1 lead.

On my teams second time afield there was noticeable fatigue exhibited by two players. Only Single Twenty wasn't feeling the effects. His lack of feeling is just what it took. We finished the game even. Single Twenty added two more insurance runs while two other of Bay's flushes never found the sights. Final was Team Sampson 7 and Team Chukka 3.

I'm hoping the lessons learned in our scrimmage will benefit the team. I'll use the bounty from Team Chukka to work on our retrieving skills.

We take on Team Pheasant in our only preseason game in two weeks. We can't wait to play with Yogi and Rose.

Carlton Brook's Great Bay Babe of Team Sampson and her first scrimmage 09-04-2011. Thanks Single Twenty.

About a half mile into Family Grounds is an old mill site. The water comes in from the old mill on the left and exits straight ahead.

When I was a lad so many years ago we would ride our bikes here on hot summer days and swim. The pool has solitude. The easy chairs reflect the mood.

Bay knows this pool well. Tonight we practiced dead bird retrieving. It wasn't pretty. Bay would push the frozen bird with her nose but would not pick it up. I practiced patience. The only sound was praise.

Bay must have sensed the bird was about to be swept away in the rapids. She gingerly grabbed hold and retrieved the bird to hand.

I don't think I'll be able to keep my heart in my chest when she retrieves her first duck. If it was anything like tonight's retrieve I may have to prescribe to nitro pills.

The Coalman and Bay have been continuing our one man, one dog training this month. The live bird shoot was a big plus.

This summer a large track of land close to home changed ownership. I contacted the landowners and was granted permission to bird hunt. It has been over fifteen years since I've roamed freely in this piece. Access was a real pain. This week I stopped at the house that guards the right of way to introduce myself. It was a pleasure to talk with the family. They are descendants of the original landowner and were very supportive. They even offered to let me park in their driveway. The front door is now open again. This week we have taken two scouting trips to this piece of land.

My goal has been to familiarize myself with the trails. Our first afternoon out we located an old logging road that runs to the river. If you didn't know it was there it could easily be missed. It can best be described as a deer hunters path now. The trail disappears a hundred yards from the river in a sea of ferns.

Last night we took a trip down another old road that leads to the river. This trail was once a major snowmobile trail. It even had a suspension bridge spanning the river. Again the road petered out into a sea of ferns. On our approach we were greeted by a beaver who slapped his tail in welcome.

Bay's water retrieving improves with every practice. Every bumper toss last night was retrieved to hand. On the upland side she continues to vacuum the ground with her nose. She is quartering well with a whistle and a hand signal. I am learning more of her body language every time out.

The predicted temperature for the start of our pheasant hunt Sunday is said to be 38 degrees. Bay is a body of muscle. The weather should treat her fine.

I would like to thank the Dickster for his words of wisdom when I first got Bay. He told me...

"The bonding between the two of you is the glue that ensures a great dog."

No gun required.

Team Sampson continued our pre-season training with a game against Team Pheasant. With a little sadness we started our hunt today without one of our veterans. Jay’s English Springer, Piper, graciously gave way to Jay’s rookie a German Shorthair named Yogi (right). Our yellow lab, Great Bay Babe, in her second season played our backfield. Our returning veteran was Cory’s German Shorthair, Rose (left). The cool weather at the start of the game was in our favor. We squeaked out a win this year with two bonus chukka partridge. The final score was Team Sampson 8 and Team Pheasant 6. The most valuable player award again this year went to our returning veteran, Rose.



Great Bay Babe brought the bounties from her namesake to today’s game. After the hunt we had a tailgate feast.

Our cook, Jay.



We started with fresh clams and oysters.



After the appetizer we ate all the birds we won from Team Pheasant.



We finished off the feast with some Great Bay Bugs.



It is time now for the regular season. The Coalman and Bay are playing away against Team Grouse on October 1.

Thank you Rose and Yogi for helping Bay see the light.

Should not be allowed to post this kind of thread until lunch or supper time.

Yummy looking.

Today was the opener of NH's Youth Waterfowl Season. How do I know?

Because they woke us up at 0630.

We could hear shots from two backyard ponds. I selfishly turned to Mrs. C and said "stay out of Bay's ponds".

But I didn't mean it. The cats been out of the bag for years on these two gems. Well one gem now. The closest pond has had no beaver for three years now. The last year beaver were there the gunning was unbelievable. I mentioned a hunt at this pond in the upcoming Hawkeye.

The second pond was a secret until it grew its shores to the local highway. The first two years of the pond Gary and I gunned it ourselves. On the night before our first hunt I counted over 250 ducks come into roost. The spoiler was the third year when a party of hunters gunned the roost. It was never the same after that.

Coalman will have his own youth, Great Bay Babe, at the Family Grounds Beaver Pond opening morning. This was one of the first places I hunted ducks in my youth. As the years went by and beaver would return we would trap them out because it flooded a whitetail bedding area.

It is only a matter of time before our pond is found. It is private but open to the public. You have to make an effort to get there.
Do they sell 12 gauge silencers?

Kudos to all the dads,moms, relatives and friends who took their youths duck hunting this rainy, foggy, humid late September morning.

Family Grounds.
What is Family Grounds? Out of respect for those who came before us and a love of the Deadliest Catch it is a journey to visit the ashes of our colonial history.

Although I own not an acre, it is a place not too far from home. There are eighty acres in the homestead. The land has been in the family since the pilgrims. A conservation easement will protect it longer than my existence. It is surrounded by another conservation easement big enough for an all day hunt.

This brook



Meets this old mill



At the headwaters a large swamp drains and meets a named brook. At their junction the topographical maps calls it a river.



Deer hunting there in 2009 beaver dams started to appear. It didn’t take long for this mink to call one home.



Or Jay to take this last day 8 point.



The beaver have changed the landscape of the no name drainage since the encounter with the mink.



Coalman and the yellow dog watched mostly barren skies during the beaver ponds first fall.







My poor shooting prevented Bay from fetching a duck in her first hunting season. There were more than a few looks like this.
The spirit of Elmer Fudd was thick in the air.



NH’s duck season opens October 4 in this zone. Sunday calls for some last chance trail grooming. It is a twenty minute walk from truck to dam. Fluorescent tacks light the trail like lines on the highway.

I can already hear the Woody’s whistle. The high pitched buzz of a teal and the low grunt of a mallard. The answer will be a peep and a chuckle. How loud will Bay whine in her sit?

Stay tuned…………..

10-01-11 PM
Rain is falling at Sampson's Bay. The yellow dog is fast asleep.

We started the day having breakfast with a friend at the local country store. After fueling the furnace our morning hunt was fog wet and humid. When the rain became steady we took a scenic tour of his hometown. Thank you Jay for helping me open the door to so much new cover.

The afternoon rain could not keep Bay and I off the mountain. We headed to the beech grove. I'd seen a beech tree late this summer on the flat before the climb up the mountain. Green hulls littered the ground. Knowing where a strong stand of beech grew on a mountain bench we started our ascent Upon our arrival the ground was matted with brown beech hulls. The deer sign was most notable.

The fog on the mountain made 3 PM look like dusk. The mist was so thick the wind blew it off the trees like a rain storm. Whenever you hunt the mountain your fate is in your own hands. You have to make decisions as if your life depended on it. Make a mistake up there and it would be a while before anyone came looking. I had sent a text of my plan to my better half.

"Wet here. Bay and I are going up the mountain. I'll stay on the trails."

So that is what Coalman and the yellow dog did. As we were descending the mountain trail just before the flat I heard a partridge drumming in the distance to our right. The only trail going in that direction was a couple hundred yards below us.
We took a right at the junction. When I heard the drumming again above us I remembered what our text said about staying on the trails. It had been a long day and I was wet. I chose caution over the bird. But after all.............

We know where he lives.

While we never flushed a bird all of my opening day travel expectations were met. We visited the Farm. On the road to the Log Yard Gobbler spot we met the landowner patrolling his property. Chock up another 300 acres of camp country to roam freely. And best of all Bay and I visited our special spot on Camp Mountain.

The first day of the Maine 2011 upland bird season was a huge success.

10-04-11
Woke up at 4AM this morning and it was raining. When I closed my eyes again all I could see was Bay retrieving a duck at the beaver pond. I tried to talk myself out of going hunting. Like a song stuck in your head my inner voice was saying..."Opening Day 2011......it will never come again"

Following a flashlight beam in a steady rain Bay and I eased to the shore at 0558. Just about that time the sky lit up like noon. Lightning followed by thunder boomers in the distance. When the clock said half hour to sunrise it was raining so hard you couldn't see a duck. But we could sure hear them. All wood ducks, all whistles. No teal, no mallards.

When a lightning bolt flashed and I heard the air sizzle it was time to rethink standing on the edge of a body of water carrying an 870 with a 30” steel barrel. Visions of lightning rods danced in my head.

The canoe was tilted bottom up and wedged along a tree branch. This became our hideaway.



In-between downpours we left our shelter and scanned the skies. Not much flying. There was no reason too. We had the pond to ourselves. The wood ducks were whistling Dixie in our pond listening to their brethren being shot at from the east.

No shots were fired from the Remington this morning. Instead we watched and listened to the rhythm of the pond. Knowing our location was still secret and full of ducks I wanted more time on point. Shooting lanes need to be cleared. Our blind from last year is under water.

Saturday is another day

The woodies are whistling in my head.

We got to the beaver pond early Tuesday. All was quiet. About the time the tree tops became visible the woodies started whistling. That is an October sound to me. More like music to these aging ears.

Sleep will come hard tonight. We will be on natures clock tomorrow. Florescent tacks will light the way. My heart is my GPS.

Shooting time is 0618 tomorrow. I feel like a kid again.

10-08-11
The orchestra was seated when we arrived at the beaver pond this morning. The flutes were practicing with soft whistles. When the curtain rose distant drums started to pound in faraway ponds. Standing on the shore the Remington became my baton.

My poor shooting once again kept Bay from retrieving her first duck. Ducks 5, Coalman 0.

Boy did I get a mouth full.



The flutes continued to play. The music of whistling woodies with their feet in the water came from far and near. They didn't fly. With only one man and one dog they were not too frightened. They just swam out of harms way.

Suddenly in the distance a bass tuba started to honk. Closer and close the sound approached the podium. The 870 barked when they were overhead and tree top level.

The grand finale' of tubas and soft flutes could be heard as Bay tackled her first goose. No retrieve was necessary. Our tuba fell on the pond edge.

Our quest for Daffy Duck continues but we can scratch a goose off our bucket list.