and a strong cup of coffee

A hunting license does not authorize you to enter private property without permission. Last week, my friend Robin and I got into a conversation about hunting on private vs public lands (and about hunting on Sundays, but that’s a different blog) and the lack of public land around to hunt on. IFW says 94% of land in Maine is privately owned which makes hunting hard if you do not own land to hunt on. I am fortunate. The three pieces of land that we hunt on make up about 430 acres and are owned by my parents and grandparents. We have allowed people to hunt on the land as long as they asked and did not use four-wheelers. I hunt in a small town where everyone knows everyone else and knows where they hunt/own. It is a community where the rules and verbal requests to hunt on certain parts of land are taken seriously. This year, we posted a new piece of land to keep people off of the logging road and away from where my tree seat is. We don’t expect to have problems, but with a new l

Clothes are out, licenses and ready to go, guns are sighted in and a game plan is on deck. In about 11 hours, we will be heading into the woods and into our Sky Condo. Dad and I jumped three deer today walking in to move branches AND, when we grabbed the cameras and checked photos, we say a ton of does, one coyote and a NICE looking buck all in front of the Sky Condo! I wish all of my fellow hunters good luck tomorrow!!! See you Monday with an update!

Folks, I need some advice. Dad put up a new tree seat in a new secret spot. Its fantastic. I climbed up there last weekend and sat for a few minutes. It's another pimped out seat with a bar that comes down over me like a ride at the fair. It's a little tighter of a fit than my other seat but it will work. Here is my concern: the open shooting lanes are on my right. I am right handed and right eye dominant. The tree is a little too close to my back and shoulder if I need to turn to the right to shoot. The last thing I want is for my gun to kick back and me not be able to go back with it. What should I do?

Every woman has a story. For some, it is a new adventure when the nest is empty. For others, it is a way to find themselves after a divorce or a new hobby after retiring. For some, it is a way to experience the outdoors among other women and for a few of us, it is a way to pay homage to the fathers who were willing to take their daughters into the woods. When I walk into the woods this fall, I will be celebrating a milestone birthday, but more importantly, I will be celebrating 10 years of being my Dad’s hunting partner. I remember how loud I was that first morning, crunching leaves and snapping branches. I am surprised we saw anything! But with Dad’s patience and teachings, we have seen a lot of wildlife over the years, built some great tree houses and harvested a few deer. It is because of my Dad (and my Mom who gets up to make us breakfast at 4:30am, gives us words of encouragement and helps butcher our deer), that I have become more connected to my family’s history. I

I saw this bull coming at me on the skidder road. I can tell he is a good sized bull and he is following behind the cow and calf. He stepped out, I lifted my gun up, placed the cross hairs on him and squeezed the trigger. Nothing happened. Rick and his family have been hunting in Maine for more than three generations. Each year, Rick faithfully puts in his application to get a moose permit and each year, his name is not drawn. Until this year! After 32 years, Rick saw his name appear but it was not an ideal situation. He drew a cow in zone 17 for the October hunt, starting Oct 8th. Not ideal, so Rick put his permit up on a couple of websites to see about a possible swap. Within 24 hours, an email hit his inbox accepting the swap. Frank had drawn a bull in zone 4 for the September hunt but his Dad had drawn a bull for October in zone 17 and it would be the first time (and maybe last) that the two could both hunt for moose together. Trade done. In preparing for this year&#

As you know from my last post, this month I am celebrating the one year anniversary of this blog, 10 years of hunting with my Dad and a milestone birthday. In honor of all three, I want to give away some great Maine stuff to all of you! Rules: 1. Leave a comment 2. On Oct 28 (my big bday), Dad will pick a number and the corresponding post will win. What will you win? A big basket of great Maine and outdoor things! Such as: fly fishing flies, blueberry something, Maine maple syrup, apple butter (to be made by me on Tuesday), something related to deer hunting and a couple of great books signed by local authors. (Pictures will be posted when I am back at a computer). So thank you for your support and for helping my celebrate such a great month!!

Wow! It has been a year since I started seriously blogging. It all started with a Hemingway quote on Twitter. Followed by some tweets and emails and before I knew it, I was being interviewed about my hunting. If it were not for Rabid , who knows if this blog would even exist. It has been a whirlwind of a year and I am so grateful for the many, many new friends I have met. Here are a few that really helped me get started, gave me a boost of confidence in myself and my writing and still make me smile when I get a comment from them. Downeast Duck Hunter Trey Luckie Rick Kratzke LB Penbayman Thanks to each and every one of you who read my posts, add your comments and continue to encourage me to keep blogging!!! Also, there will be a special give away coming up soon - in celebration of this blog's 1 year, celebrating 10 years of hunting with my Dad and I have a kinda big birthday at the end of the month... so I want to do a great give-a-way! Check back in a cou

I remember slapping my Dad's leg because I could see him coming down the hill and was so excited. I remember Dad telling me to get into position and he helped me pull my mitten/gloves off. I knew where the target spot was and I knew not to lift my head after I shot. I remember asking Dad if I could shoot him and getting the go ahead. I remember his front leg snapping up and him running. I asked Dad if I had shot him and he chuckled, patted me on the back and said I had. It was November 17th. I will never forget it. Where we were, what we did and how excited I was to get my first deer. He weighed in at 111lbs. The biologist at the tagging station took a tooth and I think some blood. He estimated that he was about 2 years old. When I stopped by my parent's house this weekend, I found this: My Dad had had the small spikes mounted for me! I had no idea he was doing this and I can not tell you how much it means to me that he did. I think we will do the same thing wi