Triple Threat Offence

Hunting fall grouse somewhere in a Muskoka Forest…

It was supposed to be a routine sortie into the area we call (at Rip N’ Tear Hunt Camp) the “Grand Canyon”. Named because of two deep creek beds that intersect and create interesting valleys that are flanked with high forest walls.

Dad and I were bird hunting and scouting for the upcoming fall deer hunt. Upon reaching the landmark area of the Grand Canyon, we took a minute to enjoy the view. It is one of those spots on our acreage, where all of the life’s issues could be solved or forgotten if given enough time. The possibility of sighting a grouse shortened the moment and spurred us to keep moving.

For some reason, I thought it would be a great idea if we split up and met back at Moose Lodge. It made sense. Two hunters walking in different areas would increase their respective chances of seeing a grouse. Dad confirmed the general direction I should travel via HIS compass and some hand motions. My compass was tucked into my shirt under my vest.

At least it should have been there.

I knew in theory which direction to travel. I had walked this particular section of bush before. My mind knew where I was supposed to end-up and it convinced me that I would not need my compass, so I did not check to see if it was still in my shirt.

Stepping off the canyon and down the slope I began my solo trek in search of a grouse. After approximately 15 minutes of walking, the feeling of unfamiliarity began to sink in. Nothing looked as it should. It was getting swampy and wet. Gads and swamp grass prevailed. I reached into my vest for my compass. A slight panic washed over me when I realized I had actually left it back at camp.

I stopped.

I Panned around my location hoping something would strike me as familiar. Nothing did. I walked another 50 meters and stepped over a rotting log. Strangely, I looked down at my feet after straddling the log and noticed a large pile of fresh bear scat.

Slightly unnerving…

I walked another few steps and noticed another pile. Then another pile. If forests had rooms like a house I knew where I was. It was eerie. Then I heard the rustle and snap of twigs behind me. I turned my head but I saw nothing. I continued to walk in what I was hoping to be a westerly heading (based on my postion to the late day sun). The rustling of leaves and twig snapping continued. I picked up my pace slightly and stopped to listen. That’s when I saw it. A slight hump (or rise) in this low, swampy land. On that hump was a tangle of bush and stone that resembled a den. My mind put the bear piles, the snapping of twigs and this hump into two words: Bear den. I fingered the safety on my shotgun and listened for the noise behind me. At this point, I finally remembered I had my radio with me. Turning the volume up I whispered,

Alpha…Alpha are you there? You should see what I just about stepped in and what I am staring at! You there?”

The radio cackled back,

Aaa….yes. Where are you?”

I answered back,

I have no idea. I left my compass at camp. You should see these bear piles. I think I found a den and…I think something is following me….”

Dad quickly replied,

There is nothing following you and you are not looking at a bear den. Now hurry up and get back here. Head westerly and you’ll find something you will recognize.”

I veered away from the den in question and walked for several minutes. I still had no idea where I was. I was about to call dad on the radio again to see if he would fire a shot into a log to help me get out of this mess. Suddenly, I stepped onto an old logging road that I recognized. This was encouraging but what happened next was surreal. I walked down this road for a few minutes and approached a large fallen Beech tree. While walking towards the leafy top of the tree that blocked my path I heard…

Grrrrrrrrrrr……..Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr……”

The leafy section of the tree shook. I pulled my gun to my shoulder. My heart felt like it was going to explode. I looked into the leafy top but I could not see anything but green leaves.

Grrrrrrrr…..”

This was not a raccoon or a squirrel with vendetta. It was a ‘large and in charge’ kind of growl. I clicked my safety off and slowly backed away from the Beech tree. When I was out of sight of the tree I used my radio again.

Ahh…Dad I found my way out but something in an old Beech tree growled at me.”

I think his response was,

Yeah right!” or “Sure…there was.”

Either way, I was not sure how I was going to explain this one.My retreat took me to another road that quickly led me back to Moose Lodge. There, with coffee in his hand, Dad came out to greet me. I sat down and I began to think how I would explain how I got lost and the location of the bear den.

I left the growling beech tree out of it.

When I tried to empty my shotgun’s magazine, I had discovered that I had not loaded shells into it. It was not until I opened the cabin door that I noticed my shotgun shells were sitting on the table beside my compass.

I never mentioned that blunder to dad either.

*(The bear den turned out to be a pile of forest debris. The Beech tree became firewood.)

-Compass photo from wikipedia website

Be sure to check the regulations for any exceptions in your WMU.

It’s not a “How-To” book, but it is just as valuable. If every angler/hunter/trapper in North America read this book we would be able to intelligently counter and discuss the antics of anti-hunting groups and the science that backs effective wildlife management.

When you delve into the books pages, you find scattered through it facts (with sources) about our pastime in the outdoors. Facts like:

• You are about twice as likely to be attacked by a grizzly when you’re camping in National Parks, where hunting is NOT allowed

• Californians kill more cougars now than before hunting was banned. They annually use permits to kill between 100 – 200 cougars, which is MORE than hunters were killing when hunting was allowed

• Deer kill ten times more people each year than sharks, cougars, bears and alligators combined, and more people than all commercial airline, train, and bus accidents combined

• Hunters provided 1600 tons(12,800,000 servings) of venison and other big game for soup kitchens and food pantries

This book will facilitate sportsman to enter the arena with PETA, HSUS and others and competently shut-down the hype spewed out by the previously listed groups.

I took it to my hunt camp for a week and purposely left it out on the table. Many of the guys would read sections of it and then indicate how good it was to learn about what they had just read, because they had never thought about the science of hunting in this much detail before.

I would love to start a Foundation (or whatever you are supposed to call it) that would make sure every hunting and trapping course in North America gets these books to the participants. Every new and young hunter should be learning this stuff in their courses. Every outhouse in our hunting/fishing/trapping camps needs to have this book – right beside the tp. Any backers?

Christmas is coming. I would recommend this book for the hunter in your life.

NOTE: I do not make money from the anyone clicking through the book links on Amazon. Do not let that stop you from checking out the details of the book. Nor, was I paid for this review. The author (or Representative) has sent me an evaluation copy of the book and I have agreed to write about it on my blog. I appreciate the time the author took to do this.

If you have a fishing or hunting product that you would like me to discuss on my blog, please contact me via the link on the top of my blog.

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Muskoka Outdoors

For more 2006 Ontario Hunting Regulations click here!

Dad and I were bird hunting and scouting for the upcoming fall deer hunt. Upon reaching the landmark area of the Grand Canyon, we took a minute to enjoy the view. It is one of those spots on our acreage, where all of the life’s issues could be solved or forgotten if given enough time. The possibility of sighting a grouse shortened the moment and spurred us to keep moving.

For some reason, I thought it would be a great idea if we split up and met back at Moose Lodge (see the banner of this blog). It made sense. Two hunters walking in different areas would increase their respective chances of seeing a grouse. Dad confirmed the general direction I should travel via HIS compass and some hand motions. My compass was tucked into my shirt under my vest.

At least it should have been there. I knew in theory which direction to travel. I had walked this particular section of bush before. My mind knew where I was supposed to end-up and it convinced me that I would not need my compass, so I did not check to see if it was still in my shirt.

Stepping off the canyon and down the slope I began my solo trek in search of a grouse. After approximately 15 minutes of walking, the feeling of unfamiliarity began to sink in. Nothing looked familiar. It was getting swampy and wet. Gads and swamp grass prevailed. I reached into my vest for my compass. A slight panic washed over me when I realized I had left it back at camp. I stopped. I Panned around my location hoping something would strike me as familiar. Nothing did. I walked another 50 meters and stepped over a rotting log. Strangely, I looked down at my feet after straddling the log and noticed a large pile of fresh bear scat.

Slightly unnerving…

I walked another few steps and noticed another pile. Then another pile. If forests had rooms like a house I knew where I was. It was erie. Then I heard the rustle and snap of twigs behind me. I turned my head but I saw nothing. I continued to walk in what I was hoping to be a westerly heading (based on my postion to the late day sun). The rustling of leaves and twig snapping continued. I picked up my pace slightly and stopped to listen. That’s when I saw it. A slight hump in this low, swampy land. On that hump was a tangle of bush and stone that resembled a den. My mind put the bear piles, the snapping of twigs and this hump into two words. Bear den. I fingered the safety on my shotgun and listened for the noise behind me. At this point, I finally remembered I had my radio with me. Turning the volume up I whispered,

Alpha…Alpha are you there? You should see what I just about stepped in and what I am staring at! You there?”

The radio cackled back,

Aaa….yes. Where are you?”

I answered back,

I have no idea. I left my compass at camp. You should see these bear piles. I think I found a den and…I think something is following me….”

Dad quickly replied,

There is nothing following you and you are not looking at a bear den. Now hurry up and get back here. Head westerly and you’ll find something you will recognize.”

I veered away from the den in question and walked for several minutes. I still had no idea where I was. I was about to call dad on the radio again to see if he would fire a shot into a log to help me get out of this mess. Still, on the back of my mind I hear twigs breaking. Suddenly, I stepped onto an old logging road that I recognized. It was relieving but what happened next was surreal. I walked down this road for a few minutes and approached a large fallen Beech tree. I was walking towards the leafy top of the tree that blocked my path. Then…

Grrrrrrrrrrr……..Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr……”

The leafy section of the tree shook. I pulled my gun to my shoulder. My heart felt like it was going to explode. I looked into the leafy top but I could not see anything but green leaves.

Grrrrrrrr…..”

This was not a raccoon or a squirrel with vendetta. It was a ‘large and in charge’ kind of growl. I clicked my safety off and slowly backed away from the Beech tree. When I was out of sight of the tree I used my radio again.

Ahh…Dad I found my way out but something in an old Beech tree growled at me.”

I think his response was,

Yeah right!” or “Sure…there was.”

Either way, I was not sure how I was going to explain this one. I took this logging road back to another road that quickly led me back to Moose Lodge. There with coffee in his hand, Dad came out to greet me. I sat down and I began to think how I would explain how I got lost and the location of the bear den.

I left the growling out of it.

I also left out the part about my gun being empty because I had forgotten to put shells in it before we left on our adventure.  I only just realized this when I went to unload my gun to enter the cabin.

The shells were sitting beside my compass.

(The bear den turned out to be a pile of forest debris. The Beech tree became firewood.)