Antlers in the Snow

Susan Douglas of Phoenix finds half of a six point rack.

Standing on the wrap-around porch, preparing to open the door to a listing she was showing me, Marvella Oberg, a real estate agent specializing in waterfront, looked out over the steep valley cut by the creek running through the backyard and exclaimed: "winter woods are extremely beautiful."

My eyes swept over the crystal clear water slicing through snow covered banks, over the gray slush clinging to submerged boulders, and slowly ran up the side of the hill. Reaching the upright below me, I caught a glint of sunlight. Going down for a closer look I found it was reflecting off the tine of a perfectly formed antler; the right side of an eight pointer's shed. I put in a purchase offer for the house right then and there.

What else could I do? It was obvious the buck survived 2008 and would be in my neck of the woods come opening day 2009 -- only bigger.

But that's in the distant future. If my offer is accepted, I'll be extending my deer season well into spring by scouting the area for deer patterns. While I'm at it, rest assured I'll be hunting for the left half of that rack.

You see, white-tails shed their antlers every winter. When the rut ends, so does the need to impress does and to fight other bucks for bragging rights to harems. Becoming added weight the deer doesn't need during winter's harsh conditions, its body stops sending testosterone to the horns, drying their link to the nubs on the skull, and the rack falls off, generally when the buck hits branches, tree trunks and other stuff with it.

The shedding process only takes two to three weeks; new antlers take all summer to grow.

Deer enthusiasts aren't the only ones to go after the sheds. Rodents nibble on them for calcium. Cross-country skiers and snowshoers look for them to add trophies to their workouts.

Don't just enter woods expecting to score. Oh sure, you might get lucky and find an antler out in the open, like on a logging trail. But your best bet is to locate where the deer eat, drink, and, the most productive spot of all, where they bed down.

Next time you're hoofin' it through the wilds, follow a deer trail. When it goes into bedding areas like thick pines, brush or stands of young trees, or crosses an open spring, start searching.

Shed hunting is a lot like deer hunting; the critter doesn't always show himself entirely.

Extremely skittish by nature, bucks move excruciatingly slowly by our standards. The most successful hunters scan the woods looking for pieces of the deer, usually antlers first, to emerge from behind trees or brush. Similarly, winter sheds are covered with snow, so concentrate on finding a piece of tine, which is usually all that's exposed.

A good way for novice shed searchers to get started is to drive along country roads and keep an eye on fields. When you spot a herd, go back, search the edge where it meets the forest, and follow the trails in.

Snowy woods have a special appeal. Robert Frost wrote a poem about it. Snowshoers and cross country skiers indulge in it. By paying attention to the ground you stand a chance of coming home with a great memory and trophy without ever firing a shot.

Salmon River Christmas

Waiting for Steelhead

Icy rapids
batter trembling logs
glistening webs of monofilament
and take-out coffee cups
welded to rocks by frozen foam.

Wedges of beaten floes
lucid and hard
grind against my hope
of raising a rainbow
through fragmented light.
~Raymond Hrynyk

Christmas at the Staircase

Unleashed on one end by the Tug Hill Plateau, tamed on the other by Lake Ontario, the Salmon River leads a relatively short and violent life. Tumbling down the slope, twisting and turning, plowing into banks, boulders and windfalls, it lives fast and never tires. Its whitewater, eddies, ripples and pools are like strings on an instrument, creating a siren's song which draws trophy salmonids into its flow; and anglers from around the world to meet the challenge.

The performance takes place year-round. Still, sometimes it plays better than others. You see, change is what lures man and beast to this river. And December is its most beautiful canvas. Draped in a wonderland of ice and snow one day, swept clean by rising temperatures and water the next, it's a whole month of ideal steelhead habitat.

Extreme shifts in water levels orchestrate the runs. This early in the season, the river's floor is carpeted with salmon eggs blanketed by pebbles. Accelerating currents uncover this prized food source, carrying it to the fish. Indeed, all they have to do is sit there, open their mouths and caviar rushes in.

Equally important, thaws raise the water to meet the comfort levels of steelies of every temperament. Those already in the stream are emboldened by the growing habitat and get downright careless in the cloudy run-off's diminished visibility. Fish swimming near its plume in the lake are hooked by the slightly warmer temperatures of the snowmelt and charge into the swollen stream.

They're literally fish for the season. When they first enter the river, steelies are basically green-backed, silver-sided, and faintly traced in pink from head to tail.

After a couple weeks in the stream, they take on the colors that camouflage them to the limited environment. Their backs turn dark olive, their upper sides develop a wide pink or red stripe and their lower sides are silver that fade into pure white bellies. Black spots are sprinkled all over them like tiny ornaments.

Hold one, and you feel the colors of the season come to life. Releasing it puts you into the Holiday spirit.

Or, as cousin Staash, a steelheader who traces his enthusiasm to the first stocking over thirty years ago, likes to say:

"December steelhead are a gift to humankind; a sensual feast in a spiritual wrapping."

Merry Christmas.

Tale of Two Zones

Chuck Elder with his four point

Oswego County is known for its hunting and fishing. Salmonids, walleyes, varmints, fowl, big game--it doesn't matter; if it's found in NY, it's here.

Chuck Elder can attest to that.

"Originally I came out here a few years ago to fish. One day when I wasn't catching anything, I decided to go hunting. I did better hunting than fishing," says the native of Westford, VT.

He came up last weekend with his son Cory, a staff sergeant in the US Army stationed on Long Island, and Cory's friend, Stanley Pen, a retired Sergeant Major.

It didn't take long for them to score.

Chuck dropped a nice four-pointer on Sunday. Funny thing is he was hunting in the northern tier half of the county, above the Salmon River.

Now, anyone that goes for white-tails knows the best hunting is around opening day, and that was October 18, almost a month ago. You see, deer are considered the noblest game because they're naturally skittish and shy. Once the shooting starts, and they know this time they're the target, not the squirrels and ducks, they grow progressively savvy and scarce as the season wears on. But the area north of the Salmon River has so many of the beasts that a good hunter can expect to score all season long.

Corey's turn came next. He and the Sgt. Maj. headed for the southern zone a couple miles below the Salmon River. In fact, he shot a six-point buck along another of the area's popular salmonid spots, Grindstone Creek

"He was a little over 100 yards away when I shot. He dropped right away," recalls the SSG. "He struggled a bit, flipped over and fell right into the stream. I had to charge into the water and grab him to prevent him from rounding the next bend."

About the same time, Chuck saw a doe and that's all she wrote. A well-placed shot put her on this winter's menu at the Elder household.

As of Tuesday night, Sgt. Maj. Pen remained deerless. But he was staying until Wednesday and remained optimistic. I wished him luck.

Extremely mild-mannered for a guy packing all that rank, he looked up at me, said "Thank you, sir" and smiled. His eyes communicated the confidence of a man who has been around guns his entire life and knows the power of patience.

For a copy of the Oswego County Fishing and Hunting Guide, call 315-349-8322, or go to http://www.visitoswegocounty.com/

Sgt Maj Stanley Pen (L) and SSG Cory Elder showing off a couple Oswego County white-tails.

‘Extreme Walleye Fishing’ on Oneida Lake

An early evening at Phillip's Point.

An old buddy of mine called late last week. "The walleyes are finally hitting at Phillips Point," he said. "Wanna give it a try tonight?"

"Sure," I replied.

I was supposed to meet him on site, on the north shore of Oneida Lake. But his car broke down on the way and he never made it. I suppose I could've gotten the heads-up if I had my cell phone. But I never take it into the outdoors. So I fished all by myself, which is what I would've done even if I'd gotten word he couldn't make it.

I know. You should never leave home without it. But my main reason for going fishing is to get away from it all, and carrying a cell phone kind of defeats the purpose -- the ring, vibration, music, whatever signal I choose to let me know a telemarketer, my boss, or sweetheart want to talk to me, breaks the spell induced by a combination forces like whitecaps slamming into shore, bird songs, and mixing the present with memories of outings past.

I arrived about 4:30 p.m. A string of guys was already in the surf. I waded out and started tossing a silver-sided/black-backed Bomber.

Wind was tearing out of the south, creating caressing whitecaps. Cool autumn nights had stirred the inshore waters to optimum temperatures. The weeds had lain down for winter, making casting clean and easy.

The wind propelled the 30-something degree temperatures into gusts that tore into my cheeks, ears and fingers like volleys of pain. The unruly, downright inhospitable elements brought to mind a comment Central Square resident Tim Oliver made the night before: "This is extreme walleye fishing."

And it is -- if you're not prepared for it. But like my old pal Mr. Wilson said a few weeks ago while we fished Lake Neahtahwanta in the rain (see posting of 9/22/08): "Ain't no such thing as bad weather, only bad attitude and bad clothes."

Luckily, I didn't have either. Comfortable in my waterproof parka and neoprene waders, I enjoyed myself immensely, thinking ‘boy it's miserable out here, but I'm warm and dry.’ It's a good feeling taking on the elements like that without suffering miserably.

Around 5 a walleye slammed my Bomber. He was an 18-incher, big enough to hit the lure hard, yet too young to be lazy. He fought like he was twice his size.

Looking around me, everyone had a fish on that evening--I got two, the second one was a hair under 20 inches.

The window for autumn's surf walleyes on Oneida Lake is a narrow one. Most guys only fish from about a half hour before sundown—you’ve got to get there early to claim a spot -- to about an hour after lights out. Oh, the fish still hit after that--throughout the night, in fact--but standing for long periods in the dark, out in the open, in rough water, saps your emotional strength.

The bite will last for the rest of the month and some diehards will keep at it until the ice stops their lure cold.

Get to Phillips Point by taking NY 49 east for about three miles from Central Square (I-81 exit 32). Turn right onto Toad Harbor Road, then left onto McCloud Drive three miles later, and drive about a mile to the end.

Good luck.

Fishing on Oneida Lake

Salmon River Mixed Bag

A brown trout in Autumn Colors

The worst thing about fishing in November is the extreme changes in weather. A super cold front with freezing temperatures and snow can shut the fish down. But a couple days of warm weather can start the action boiling again. This week's Indian summer promised to stir the Salmon River into the ideal temperature for browns, steelhead, rainbows, and some late salmon.

Before hitting the river on Wednesday, I stopped into Fat Nancy's on NY 13, across the road from I-81 exit 36 north, to see if I called it right, and to find out where the fish were.

"The river's loaded with fish from top to bottom," claimed Tiny, an associate of the tackle shop.

"Steelhead ranging from 5 to 10 pounds, rainbows going from 3 to 5 pounds, and browns from 3 to 12 pounds are everywhere," said the part-time fishing guide (One More Fish Guide Service, 315-529-6427).

I asked Tiny to describe any physical differences between a steelhead and rainbow.

"On rainbows the spots range further down on the body and they have a prominent pink stripe early in the season. Steelhead are green-backed and silvery on the sides and don't develop the pink until later in the season," he answered.

Egg sacs are the most popular bait. Tiny suggests carrying a mixture of colors and using bright hues on cloudy days and dark colors when it's bright outside.

"Another highly productive bait is a trout bead, especially in chartreuse, sun orange, Glo Roe and Cotton Candy Pink," he volunteered.

Warmer water seems to restore the fish's appetite for worms. Tiny prefers "baby night crawlers." However, for the squeamish, an artificial worm that's equally productive is Berkley's Gulp Alive 2" Fish Fry.

Use a float to help detect a bite. The fish are active, hanging out in the fast water. They hit quickly and often subtly, and the float reports the slightest hesitation in the bait immediately, giving you a split second longer to react, enough time to make the difference between a solid hook-up and the ol' "I think I had a hit!"

I went out for a couple hours and followed Tiny's advice. I fished the pockets at the Staircase and nailed a 6-pound brown on a Berkley Gulp Alive 2" Fish Fry.

His radiant browns and golds reflected autumn's peak. I released him and he disappeared over the spent leaves carpeting the river's floor.

Early November casts a magic spell on the river. You'll not find a more pleasant and scenic time to catch a brown or rainbow trout as large and colorful as the one swimming through your imagination.

Brown trout in autumn colors

Local guide, John Kopy, with an autumn brown.

Pheasants on the Lamb

Jessica & Stan: Novice & Master

Sleeping on the ground instead of roosting in trees, pheasants are preyed upon by every mid-sized predator out there. If they're to survive for any length of time, they need a lot of grain producing farmland punctuated by grassland and heavy brush. For this reason, the Department of Environmental Conservation only stocks them in two spots in Oswego County: Three Mile Bay/Big Bay and Deer Creek Marsh Wildlife Management Areas.

Native to China, pheasants tolerate Oswego County's northern tier weather pretty well. But their preferred habitat around here is so small, most hunters only get them incidentally, while hunting ruffed grouse or rabbits.

While the Deer Creek WMA has all the usual suspects preying on pheasants, it has one thing that also contributes to their numbers: a pheasant preserve right across the street. Birds that escape Deer Creek Motel's Pheasant Preserve on NYS Route 3 (north of Port Ontario) find the patchwork of habitats pretty good on the other side of the road.

But preserves do more for hunting than just supply game; they also hone a hunter's skills. It's one thing to shoot a stationary target or even a clay pigeon launched from a trap; quite another thing altogether to target a speeding critter.

When you shoot at live targets anything can happen, and something always does.

For instance, last Monday I invited fellow blogger and Oswego County Public Information Officer Jessica Trump to a bird hunt. She had never hunted pheasant and accepted the challenge.

We arrived at the Deer Creek Motel and Shooting Preserve at about the same time. Owner Stan Ouellette welcomed us and had us sign releases. In the meantime, he took off in his ATV and stocked a bunch of birds.

When he returned, he fetched Belle, his wire-haired Pointing Griffon, and she lit off onto the trail ahead of us like a brown, low flying cyclone. We no sooner climbed over the first hill and she was already pointing. Stan ordered her to hold as we ran up, then gave the order to flush. The pheasant decided to race the dog through the high grass and we tried following them with our ears. Suddenly it shot up in a whirl of bright colors and feathers. Jess fired first, hitting the bird. Belle found it and brought it to us.

In about an hour and a half, Jess and Stan nailed five pheasants. Each surprised us with its defensive flight, only allowing us a couple of seconds to figure out what direction, height and speed it would take before flying out of range.

Before setting out for a hunt, regardless of the game, it's a good policy to refresh your skills, especially your patience and aim. A trip to your friendly pheasant preserve provides the ultimate target practice.

You'll indulge in some really wild fun, help some farm-bred birds escape into the wild, and bring home a tasty meal, too.

Jess preparing to shoot the bird

Discussing theory

A rooster rising

Rooster in flight

Belle on point

Belle, hard at work

Jessica, her first pheasant, and Belle

Turkey season: Part I, Northern Tier

Stan Oulette of Deer Creek shows off his turkey

With the salmonids running, walleyes, bass and northerns on the bite, deer season just around the corner, and turkey season in the northern part of the county open, I don’t have much time to go tramping around in the wilderness trying to get a gobbler. So when motel operator and professional guide Stanley Oulette invited me to hunt with him on Deer Creek Motel property, across NY 3 from Deer Creek Wildlife Management Area, I couldn't pass up the offer.

Stanley started a turkey dialogue right when we sat down in the woods. He scraped the slate call a couple times; followed up with a few calls from the diaphragm in his mouth, and answered both with a box call.

About 15 minutes later, a doe came out of the woods and walked past us less than 50 yards away. Ten minutes later, two bucks, four and six points respectively, came out of the same spot. They sniffed cautiously around our decoys, less than 50 feet away from us, before deciding the doe was more exciting and heading off in her direction.

Just as I was putting my camera away, Stanley whispered "Here comes a turkey, moving fast."

By the time I shouldered the gun she was directly in front of me, right in my sights. I fired.

A young hen, she weighed about 10 lbs. She wasn't the best turkey in flock, but she was a good turkey. What she lacked in size, she compensated for with a beard. Only about three percent of hens sport whiskers so I felt like I got a bonus.

After all that racket, we decided to hit another spot. On the way, Stanley asked if I'd like to see his pet Ruffed Grouse. I thought he was kidding. An outfitter having a pet grouse, one of the tastiest birds on the planet. Unbelievable???!!!

Entering a thick, young forest, Stanley called "Come' ere Pete. Where are ya Pete."

Nothing happened. So we left.

We hunted turkey a few hundred yards deeper in the woods. Stan did some calling. No replies.

We sat there for about a half hour and decided to move again.

As we neared the spot where Stan called Pete, a ruffed grouse emerged from under the brush and started circling us. "Here's Pete," Stan proclaimed proudly.

He went over and started talking to the bird. Tickled to see him it kept circling and jumping around, all within Stan's reach.

I always knew he was a good fisherman. Now I know he has an even greater connection with the woods.

Fortunately, I have photos to prove to myself the events of that morning really happened.

Deer Creek Wildlife Management Area and the neighboring lands boast some of the most productive game habitat in Oswego County. The WMA's marsh loads up with waterfowl; its lowlands teem with deer; and its openings support ruffed grouse, pheasant and turkey.

The easiest way to get there is to head north on NY 3 from its intersection with NY 13 for 1.8 miles to the public access site at the bridge crossing the creek. Other easy access sites are the dirt road 0.1 mile north of the bridge and the next road 0.3 mile further north.

This is Pete, Stan's pet Ruffed Grouse

Stan standing next to Pete

This photo is dark, but it shows the two small bucks next to the turkey decoys.