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Posts Tagged ‘crisp’


It was raining heavily with the winds howling all around me, in an Easterly direction. I had been walking for several minutes now through the wetlands, between the ice sheets and the cattails. As the bottom of my boots crushed the crisp swamp grass, with my every breath and step, I was nearing the edge of the dark forest and the river bank.

I was all alone heading deeper into the fog, brought on by the warming temperatures. As I breached the tree line, I was engulfed by the pure white mist. I stopped for a moment, looked back and then stared at the hidden frozen watering holes in the woods, capturing the absolute.

It was only half past three in the afternoon but it felt much later than this, as the darkness creeps in earlier this time of year. I pushed forward toward the banks and soon was met with the wall of ice about twenty meters in length. Its outer edge was cut and had jagged pieces of ice sticking out, it was rubbing against the central ice sheet located in the middle of the river, and this piece was hundreds of meters long.

Just like the earths tectonic plates, the ice sheets were crushing each other and producing this incredible sound of shattering glass. I had already experienced duck hunting this time of year and knew that I could make it out about my waist in height to retrieve a harvest but that any further would be deadly. I would have to plan all my shots, so that the birds would land in a safe area.

Moments later, I was now well hidden behind some majestic trees, right along the edge of the river, I started calling geese and ducks, followed by many minutes of silence. Finally, my calling and patience paid off, I had a flock of Canada’s fly over but they were too high and out of range. They responded to my calls and I tried my best to imitate their call and attempt to interpret which call would draw them in best. I worked them hard, as I have successfully in the past, but they soon disappeared into the fog.

I had a second faint call in the distance and soon realized that it was a lone goose, floating through the middle of the river amongst the great ice pieces and dark waters. I called and was waiting for a response, I worked on this bird heavily but it was all in vain, the current carried the Canada right down the middle and it did not bite and come back over the ice. It flapped its wings and responded but it too disappeared into the mist toward the East.

Just like the final page in a book closing itself, my season on the river was coming to its end, and the last image I had was that of this Canada goose, calling out faintly and fading away in the white mist amongst the ice sheets of this northern land.

I went home without firing a shot but this is sometimes the reality of the hunt, and as a seasoned waterfowler, I am grateful for my time in our great Canadian wilderness.

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Snare2

Snare2

The early morning air that surrounded me in the woods was crisp and cold. It was almost like time was standing still and every sound in the forest was amplified. The trees had a pure white coat on them after a light January snow fall at dawn.

The temperature was thirty below and the twenty gauge wire that I was working with for my snares was burning my hands as they slowly went numb. I had been tightening the wire around a broken support branch that I had placed overtop my hare lead at its narrowest section.

After carefully placing twigs creating a funnel cone toward the opening of my snare, it was now time for me to tie up my trail marker tape identifying the second snare spot. I was only on my second setup and my goal was to have five more completed by mid morning.

At about eleven o’clock all my snares were in place and had been inspected. A friend and veteran snare hunter had taught me that after the holidays around mid January it was a good idea to adjust your snare openings. Making them slightly larger than the size of your fist and instead of having the wire around five-finger widths from the ground, he suggested it be around three.

Satisfied with my snares, I packed away my gear and prepared myself for the drive home; the anxiety for the next morning’s potential harvest was slowly consuming me. As an avid hunter my excitement level was about the same as someone would experience while waiting to open their gifts on Christmas day. It was now time for nature to take the lead no pun intended.

For those who are familiar with nature, especially North American animals there is a belief that badgers have an interesting relationship with coyotes. This relationship gets even more interesting when they are hunting for food together. Let us imagine they were pursuing a ground dwelling rodent, the badger would attempt to dig him out. The coyote on the other hand would simply wait at one of the escape holes and grab the rodent as it escapes.

Now it is also a known fact that coyotes are smarter than foxes. The question is then: Is it just smarts or is it simply theft? Another interesting fact about this relationship is why the badger doesn’t just kill the coyote that is stealing or trespassing during the combined hunt. Opportunistic or instinct, is it theft or just survival?

The following morning had come and the temperature on the thermostat was showing twenty-four below zero. My goal was to get to the site before nine in the morning, check all my snares and then plan to be home in time for lunch. So I loaded up my gear and headed out to the woods, which was about an hour drive north.

My first snare was intact and although there were fresh tracks in the new snow, they did not lead to my opening, so I slowly removed the wire and marker and placed it in my pocket and prepared myself to move to the second snare. I had put on my yellowish tint shooting glasses, which offer such a visual advantage during the winter when sifting through pine and cedar. I also brought along my .22 bolt-action Savage in the event that a hare may break into a full chase, so with this in mind I decided to stalk between my snare spots.

When I got up to my second snare, I instantly noticed the scattered blood droplets on the white snow and branches. There were obvious signs of a struggle, I also saw several droppings scattered on the fresh snow and there were tuffs of fur stuck on the branches and the log nearby.

My shiny twenty gauge wire had been torn and was still tied off to the main log. I tirelessly looked for a blood trail around the leads but the hare had just vanished and although there were three other leads heading up the ridge there was no sign of blood.

I did however notice prints in the snow heading north-west that looked like coyote tracks; they were headed directly into heavy cedar underbrush and into an area that was quite dark even in daylight. I spent the next forty-five minutes searching the area around the second snare site but did not see any sign of my hare. I gathered up my remaining snares and prepared myself for a challenging season.

The tell-tale signs indicate that I had successfully snared my first hare this year but ended up getting badgered by the local coyote. This most definitely adds a more positive spin to my snowshoe hare and small game season this winter because I now have an added challenge ahead of me.

I do not wish to be badgered again.

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