Porcupine Knob

Blackberry picking

noreply@blogger.com (Grampa Miles) — Sat, 05 Sep 2009 20:46:00 +0000

Ashley and I went up back on the hill looking for blackberries; we found some and filled our buckets.

On the way back down the hill, Ashley noticed two big piles of cat poop; they were old. I wonder what kind of critter's been hanging out back there. One of them was right back of mom's trailer. I'm not surprised; after all, Panther Mountain is only two hills away to the south.

During yesterday's trip to the Wildlife Center at Tupper Lake, there was a short film that confirmed that panthers are on the rebound in the Adirondacks. The DEC says not; they are either not admitting it or need to get out in the woods more often. The plaster of paris mold that I saw was about the same size as the fresh tracks I saw a few years ago back of the Banner House mine.

After a brief lunch to recharge, and encouraged by the thought of more berries, we went across the lake up the Blair Kilns road. We cleaned up on the old Atkinson farm, where I saw my own big pile of bear poop. Enormous! And fresh. Kirby Cook drove by on his way into hunting camp.

Then we went a little further back towards the kilns, taking a side road that led to an old logging landing. I parked the RV, and we quickly found the mother lode. The black bears have been in there something wicked; there were huge paths where they've been working the berry patch. We quickly filled our buckets, but will have to return next weekend, as there were lots of red ones "big as your thumb" and I anticipate some pie soon.

We drove down to Chateaugay; on the way back we stopped at Harrigan's and bought a quart of vanilla soft ice cream to have with the berries. I think I've been slated to cook shish kebabs this evening.

Then we drove over to the Eddie farm, where we found a few apples, though not enough for a pie. We'll have to return tomorrow for the rest!

While we were out, Nellie Lamb called, looking for Soulia Mountain. I'm unsure how she missed it, but I gave her directions. She said there's an old cemetery in there; I'm not surprised at this revelation.

The beginning of fall has been great but I hear cold temps will be here in no time.

43 Camp Gang-1955

noreply@blogger.com (Grampa Miles) — Sat, 07 Jul 2007 13:57:00 +0000

This early 1955 photo of some of the members of 43 Hunting Club, taken during the first season the building was completed, has just surfaced from a photo album that contained some items belonging to Mike Blow. Perhaps our fearless leader can help remember some of the faces, but here are the ones that I know:

Back row: All are unknown except Raymond Blow, at the far right; Front row, l to r: Trim (Emerson) Blow (?), John Miles, Mike Blow, unknown.

Fall Season, 2006

noreply@blogger.com (Grampa Miles) — Thu, 07 Jun 2007 21:02:00 +0000

I notice my postings last fall were nil. However, this merely indicates that I was spending more time than ever in the woods.

I bought one of those camouflaged blinds, kind of like a pup tent. For about three weeks I used it at home, back of the house, and set it up near the mine shaft, where I could see up into the area where the hardwoods had been cut about two years ago. Basically, except for that one day when it was snowing and I jumped two deer, and the other time that I spooked another, had him in my sights for about ten minutes waiting for horns to grow until a shower of big flakes gave it the opportunity to mysteriously vanish, I didn't see anything except a tribe of crows that were interrupted by several turkeys that were browsing. About an hour later, when I walked back down to the house, they were roosting in the pine trees right back of the house; they heard me, got spooked, and all of them flew off in the dark over towards the Banner House amidst a lot of panic and noise. Stupid turkeys.

Therefore, I decided to try my luck over at camp. Since Charlie (Bigfoot) had his foot in a cast, I knew that he wasn't likely to try anything like take us down to the line near Johnston's Camp where he shot his big buck last year. That is an entire different story, but he had to go looking for it the next day and was almost arrested back of Camp Jeanne D'Arc.

So I set my tent up near his treestand, basically for lack of a better place, but also because there were a lot of buck rubbings in that area. Therefore I spent the rest of the season looking out of my tent, but to no avail.

Charlie's foot finally healed. However, he showed up at camp this spring with his other foot in a cast.

Spring Work Weekend, 2007

noreply@blogger.com (Grampa Miles) — Thu, 07 Jun 2007 20:43:00 +0000

I've heard many excuses for not going to camp work weekend, but a few weeks ago, I think I heard the best one to have ever been uttered on our side of the Bearslide. Even Big Ed, who sez that he wrote the Book of Excuses long ago, has never heard of this one:

"My wife has a hangnail on her toe."

I am ashamed to name the culprit, although can safely mention to the merely observant that I shot a deer in this individual's tree-stand two years ago.

Erroll almost came in at second place, but he was granted a reprieve by our Fearless Leaders when he showed up--late--but at least he was there! We also cleared up Errol's "no-show" last fall, wherein I learned of his presence while at the Owlyout Tavern; apparently some of their patrons observed Erroll attempting to whiz around on his 4-wheeler. (When it didn't start, he went back home.) The strange thing is, on the night that Erroll went missing, I encountered these same patrons of the Owlyout (the previous evening) when they went to the top of the hill to make their phone call, and followed them back out to the road. Indeed, they remarked that they saw "an old feller."

In the meantime, we were battling moose on the path to the privy, that appear to have been heading on over to Academy Street. The Dynamic Duo took a trip over to Figure 8 Pond, and reported that there are cowpaths over there, so apparently this is the location of the winter lair for Mooses. (Not Moses)

Mike brought his dogs, and one of them bit both Dickie and myself, although not at the same time.

I finally learned the work history of the Massena gang, and how Dick gained his evil reputation.

Food fight!

noreply@blogger.com (Grampa Miles) — Mon, 18 Dec 2006 20:22:00 +0000

emailed from Montana

"It's a golden eagle hitting a coyote at a deer kill, mocking bird bailing out.

If eagle hits coyote in ribs with 3 inch talons the coyote is also toast, that's why the coyote jumped."--RD

The Specialist, by Ray Blow, The Champion Privy Builder

noreply@blogger.com (Grampa Miles) — Tue, 02 May 2006 21:23:00 +0000

I'm afraid I'll be havin' privy trouble if I make them holes too durn comfortable and them boys will be a goin’ out there and staying anywheres from forty minutes to an hour. If they do, I'll get out my scroll saw and cut 'em square with hard edges.

"Hey Buster, where do you want that privy put?" I yells. Buster comes out and we get to talkin’ about a good location. He was all for puttin’ her right alongside a jagged path runnin' by a big pine tree.

"I wouldn't do it Buster," I sez; and I'll tell you why--in the first place her bein’ near a tree is bad. There ain't no sound in nature so disconcertin’ as the sound of pine cones droppin’ on the roof. Then, another thing, there's a crooked path runnin’ by that tree and the soil there ain't adapted to absorbin’ moisture. Durin' the rainy season she's likely to be slippery. Take Tony--goin’ out some rainy night with his hightie flappin’ around his legs, and like as not, when you come out in the mornin’ you'll find him prone in the mud, or maybe skidded off one of them curves. "No Sir," I sez, "Put her in a straight line with the camp and past a woodpile," and I'll tell you why.

"Take when the women come to camp--out she'll go. On the way back she'll gather five sticks of wood, and the average woman will make four or five trips a day. There's twenty sticks in the woodbox without any trouble. On the other hand, take a timid woman, if she sees any men folks around she's too bashful to go direct out, so she'll go to the woodpile, pick up the wood and go back to the camp. The average timid woman might make ten trips before she goes in, regardless--just think of the wood she'd have piled up by our stove."

New, about the diggin’ of her. You can’t be too careful about that, I sez; "Dig her deep and dig her wide. It's a might sight better to have a little privy over a big hole than a big privy over a little hole. Another thing; when you dig her deep, you've got her dug, and you ain't got that disconcertin’ thought stealin’ over you that sooner or later you'll have to dig again.

"Now the construction--do you want joists or beams?" I sez joists make a good job. Beams cost a bit more, but they're worth it. 'Course, I could give you joists, but take Tony, he ain't gettin’ a mite lighter. Some day he might he out there and them joists 'ould give 'way and there he'd be--catched."

"Now, about her roof--we can have a lean-to type or a pitch, roof. I'd like a lean-to and I'll tell you why--

"A lean-to has two less corners fer the wasps to build their nests in and on a hot August afternoon there ain't nothin’ so disconcertin’ as a lot of wasps buzzin’ around while you're settin’, doin’ a little readin’, figgerin or thinkin'. Another thing, a lean-to...

[is there a page missing here?]

...you a high door. Buster will crack his head everytime tryin' to get under a pitch roof door.

"As to the latch fer her I can give you a spool and string or a hook and eye. The cost of a spool and string is practically nothin' but it ain't positive in action. Somebody comes out and starts rattlin’ the door--either the spool or the string is apt to give way--and there you are--But, with a hook and eye of the best quality she's yours. Put on the hook and eye of the best quality 'cause there ain't nothin' that'll rack a man's nerves more to be settin' there ponderin' without a good substantial latch on the door.

Now, about windows, some want them, some don't. I'd say "No windows"; and I'll tell you why. Take, fer instance, somebody comin' out--maybe they're just in a hurry or maybe they waited too long. If the door don't open right away and you won't answer 'em, nine times out of ten, they'll go 'round and look in the window, and you don't git the privacy you ought to.

Now, how do you want that door to swing?--Openin’ in or out? I sez it should open in. This is the way it works out. Place yourself in there. The door openin' in--say about forty-five degree. This gives you air and lets the sun beat in. Now, if you hear anybody comin’ you can give it a quick shove with your foot and there you are. But, if she swings out, where are you? You can't run the risk of having her open for air or sun because if anyone comes, you can't get up off that seat, reach way 'round and grab ter without gittin' caught, now can you? So build the door to swing in and face the East to get the ill benefit of the sun.

Now about paintin' her. You need contrast--just like they use on them railroad crossin' bars, so you can see it in the dark. I'd paint her a bright yellow with white trimmin'.

There's a lot of fine points to puttin' up a first class privy, that the average man don't think about. It's no job for an amachoor, There has been some real tragedies around here because of amachoors building privies.

Camp Brookside, aka Figure 8 Pond Lumber Camp

noreply@blogger.com (Grampa Miles) — Wed, 22 Mar 2006 00:11:00 +0000

October 1, 1971, was a beautiful day, with temperatures in the '70s. This picture, in contrast, was taken at the Figure 8 Lumber Camp in February, 1925. The man waist-deep in that white stuff is Henry Cook; the youth standing is John Sprague. Property of John Sprague.

Figure 8 Hunting Club, posing with their buck in 1946 are: standing--George Tacy, Thomas Abbott, Bruce Barnes, Exior Poupore, Gerald Hyland; kneelng--Jerry Martin, John Higgins, Doug Barnes and Bill Barnes.

In 1924, a group consisting of George Tacy, Floyd Dow, Frank Miles, Gerald Hyland, Clarence Humiston and John Higgins organized the "Camp Brookside" hunting camp at Chateaugay Lake.

As the membership grew, the named was changed to the Figure 8 Hunting Club [see next caption] and to this day, after much renovating, the camp is still active. Many are the pleasant weekends spent with the boys in camp.

There are three honorary members: Clarence Humiston, John Higgins and Bill Dwyer.

At Figure 8 Pond Lumber Camp in 1925, these four hearty men snowshoed in to check the deer yard. Pictured here, are left to right: seated, Henry Cook, Frank Miles and John Sprague. Standing is Kenneth Cook. (From Sprague collection.)

Chateaugay Record

Rocky Brook Camp

noreply@blogger.com (Grampa Miles) — Thu, 02 Feb 2006 22:03:00 +0000

Here are the outlaws at Rocky Brook Camp. This camp was burned by someone that was mad at someone else over a woman. First they chopped down a huge white pine; apparently that didn't accomplish the destruction of the camp, so they torched it.

I've spent many a night here, and one time Doug Carter took me and Wacker to Mountain Pond after a wild night of drinking too many beers. The trout were jumping into our baskets, and the black flies were so thick that we were breathing them in. Somewhere in there in believe we were on the old Coolaw tote road. Those trout were some of the best I've ever had; we baked them and ate them with blueberries.

Another time I was there with Doug, and a wolf actually flew in the air right over our heads! Sometimes when you're in the woods, weird stuff happens.

l to r: Candy and Glen Visconti, Doug Carter, Robin Reilly, Liz Hoy, Joe Hat, Karen Hoy, Wacker, Mark Carter, Steve Hoy; front: Steve McCann and Roger Parmeter

Fishing Derby, Owlyout, January 28 2006

noreply@blogger.com (Grampa Miles) — Thu, 02 Feb 2006 21:34:00 +0000

Panther Mountain and Cobble Hill

Ice Shanty, looking towards Figure 8 Mtn.

Fishing on the Ice on Chateaugay Lake

Mouth of Owlyout Creek

Figure 8 Mtn., Porcupine Knob (Drew Mtn.), Larrabee Mtn.; Bluff Point in foreground

Figure 8 Mtn., Drew Mtn., Larrabee Mtn.

Drew Mtn. and Larrabee from mouth of Owlyout Creek

Birch Hill (left), 3rd, 2nd, and 1st Hills

One of these northern pike weighed 14 lbs.

Jack Clifford Camp (a.k.a. 5 Chimneys)

Every winter Doug Carter runs a fishing derby at the Owlyout Tavern (right by Owlyout Creek); the past few years they've had more than one a year. There are cash prizes ($200) awarded every hour for the biggest legal fish caught anywhere on Chateaugay Lake. There's a big breakfast early in the morning, and they run it until dark.

I brought along my camera so I could get a good shot looking out at the "W" range from Charlie Merrill's place; this will go in the book.

From Merrill's house I went to the Owlyout where I got some good shots of some of the fish; right when I left there was a single lake trout, a nice size, perhaps several pounds or so. A few years back that's all you could catch, plus perch, but now the pike have taken over.

Where did the pike come from? Is this a secret program run by the DEC? I've heard that the NYS DEC has been trading species to release in the wilds with other states. Someone from downstate found a badger or wolverine, with a Utah tag. When they contacted the NYS DEC, nobody would talk about it, but when they contacted the outfit in Utah, they admitted that they've been trading their species in order to obtain whatever New York has been giving to them. Probably more of these pike.

Johnny's First Buck, 1981

noreply@blogger.com (Grampa Miles) — Fri, 30 Dec 2005 17:32:00 +0000

This was an 8 or 9-point buck, about 179 lbs. I shot it at the old "Beech tree" watch on Porcupine. Dad pushed this one out of the swamp; he was trotting right at me. I was using the .308 semi-automatic Winchester that Ross Biondo sold to my dad. I kept shooting and he didn't drop until he got right in fron of me.

Lilypad Pond

noreply@blogger.com (Grampa Miles) — Fri, 30 Dec 2005 04:48:00 +0000

Outdoor Recreation Information.

It's always fun to stop by Lilypad Pond. Lilypad Pond is not the only lake around here, Mountain Pond is another nearby lake. If you're in a climbing mood you may want to go up on Brand Pinnacle. Had enough of Lilypad Pond? Papoose Lake is just a stonethrow away. If you want to get a better view of the area you could always climb Ragged Lake Mountain. The view from the top of Pinnacle is worth the climb. Climbing up to the top of East Mountain is great exercise. There are other lakes here than Lilypad Pond, for example Figure Eight Pond. More lakes? Sure, Duck Pond is right next door. From the top of Sanburn Hill you get a great view of the surrounding area. Getting up on Owls Head is great exercise and the view is great too.

Up on the top of Whipple Hill you'll get a great view. If you want to get up a bit higher try climbing Orebed Hill. Since you're in a lake visiting mood you can always check out nearby Deerfly Pond. You get a great view from the top of Doctor Hill. Ingraham Pond is another nearby lake that you could visit. West Mountain is a great place to go up on if you want more of a bird's eye perspective on everything here around Lilypad Pond. Drop by The Beaver Dam while you're here. Going up to the top of Kirby Hill is great fun any day. Climbing up to the top of W Mountain is great exercise. You get a great view from the top of Sugarloaf Mountain.

Peavey Bay is very close and always nice to visit. Not far from Lilypad Pond, you'll find Drain Pond which is another beautiful lake. If you're in a climbing mood you may want to go up on Soulia Mountain. Figure Eight Mountain is a great place to go up on if you want more of a bird's eye perspective on everything here around Lilypad Pond. Other nearby lakes? Sure, Ragged Lake is just a very short distance away. Up on the top of Hardwood Hill you'll get a great view. Another lake nearby is Lower Chateaugay Lake. Why not climb nearby Little Orebed Hill. You could also go to Mud Pond while you're here, it's not far at all. If you get bored of Lilypad Pond you could also check out nearby Lily Pod Pond.

From the top of Baldy Mountain you get a great view of the surrounding area.

43 Camp Territory

noreply@blogger.com (Grampa Miles) — Wed, 28 Dec 2005 18:22:00 +0000

NYS Topographic Map segment

Satellite photo of Laraby Mtn., Porcupine Knob (Drew Mtn.), Soulia Mtn., Figure Eight Mtn., headwaters of Little Trout River

Relief map of Figure Eight pond, Figure Eight Mtn., Little Trout River, Soulia Mtn, and backside of Laraby Mtn.

Dad's Great Lot map

excerpt of early Franklin County Map

43 Camp, 1955

noreply@blogger.com (Grampa Miles) — Wed, 28 Dec 2005 15:00:00 +0000

John Miles, 43 Camp, February, 1955

Woods Excursion: February 26, 1954

noreply@blogger.com (Grampa Miles) — Fri, 23 Dec 2005 02:14:00 +0000

Teafields below Figure Eight Mountain
Arlene Reynolds and John Miles

Arlene Reynolds, John Miles--Big Rock, Little Hardwood Hill

John and Arlene, Old Camp Bottom, Little Hardwood Hill

Bill Sullivan

My dad drove a truck for Bill Sullivan in his lumber operation on the west side of Chateaugay Lake. I have a photo of Dad's truck that he bought in 1939; I'm unsure if he worked for Sullivan consecutively from 1939 until 1954, when this photo was taken. However, I tend to doubt that, as Dad was working for the Town of Chateaugay in 1947 during the winters, plowing snow with Bob Cook. On the other hand, I also feel that Dad worked for Sullivan for quite a while. Perhaps, they were simply up there tramping around the woods and Sulllivan was still working up there somewhere.

Johnston's Hunting Camp

Woods Excursion--February 8, 1953

noreply@blogger.com (Grampa Miles) — Fri, 23 Dec 2005 02:04:00 +0000

Buster and Bob Reynolds and I went to Little Hardwood-Teafields down the Creek and halfway down Ragged Lake. Came back across Bear Brook Beaver Pond. Saw a few cat tracks and two wolf tracks on Ragged Lake. Nice day to travel.--John Miles' Journal

Bear Brook, John Miles and Buster Reynolds

Lookout, Figure Eight Mountain

noreply@blogger.com (Grampa Miles) — Thu, 22 Dec 2005 21:56:00 +0000

John Miles, in profile to Ragged Lake area

Figure Eight Pond

Bearslide, Figure Eight Mountain

noreply@blogger.com (Grampa Miles) — Thu, 22 Dec 2005 21:52:00 +0000

Charles Juntenen is looking down the "Bearslide" towards Figure Eight Pond

The "Bearslide" is an igneous dike; the above photo shows how the rock has eroded.

Bagging the Game

noreply@blogger.com (Grampa Miles) — Tue, 20 Dec 2005 23:10:00 +0000

Dad, Dick and Me

Looks like we're trying to go bag one!

Brayton Hollow, Chateaugay River--Fall, 1947

noreply@blogger.com (Grampa Miles) — Mon, 19 Dec 2005 00:10:00 +0000

John D. Miles, Brayton Hollow

This photo was taken by Bob Cook of Chateaugay in the late fall of 1947 [there are several other photos in these series that I hope to post soon]. Bob and Dad worked together for the Town of Chateaugay, plowing roads in the winter. Anyway, I have no photos of them plowing roads in the summer.

Dad's Wolf--June, 1952

noreply@blogger.com (Grampa Miles) — Sun, 18 Dec 2005 20:12:00 +0000

Dad's Buck, 1942

noreply@blogger.com (Grampa Miles) — Sun, 18 Dec 2005 20:02:00 +0000

Mountain Whitetail Buck, 1955

noreply@blogger.com (Grampa Miles) — Sun, 18 Dec 2005 17:07:00 +0000

John Miles, Eddie Kania (?), Paul Robideau, Clinton Smith

John Miles, Paul Robideau

Johnny's Buck, 2004

noreply@blogger.com (Grampa Miles) — Tue, 13 Dec 2005 01:51:00 +0000

This is the buck I shot down in Chases's Mills, near the Louisville Swamp on the St. Lawrence. You can tell it's not a Shattagee Woods deer, because even though it certainly had a nice rack, it wasn't that big of a deer: this was an 8-pointer, and when I took it to the Owlyout about a week after I shot it, it weighed in at 149 lbs.

It was the last weekend of hunting season, and I still hadn't gotten anything, so since I had a doe permit, I went down to my cousin George's place in Madrid. We went over to his property, where he has an old sawmill.

When I arrived, it was about 7:00 or so, maybe 7:30, and his truck was already running and warmed up. We drove over to his property, perhaps a 20-minute drive.

Right in back of his sawmill, maybe about a 5-minute walk, if that, Lynn Backus, a friend of George's and Dick's from work--who is also a member of our camp now--had put a brand new tree stand. Never blooded, although that status was about to quickly change.

I was unsure about going up there, but with some reluctance, I climbed up. One of my friends, Porky, had just almost shot his hand off earlier in the season while climbing into a treestand. It's a wonder he didn't either bleed to death or lose his hand, but fortunately, he didn't, although I understand that it was touch-and-go there for awhile. I'm glad to learn that he's now recovered.

George walked around the swamp and did a small push.

I can't remember all of the details, but I think there were some guys in the next field. But wherre we were, it was rather thick, although there are some nice open spaces in there.

Soon, I had some crashing, and sure enough, here comes a big buck!!

Man, I was on alert. All I saw were those big horns just kind of swaying, ever so gracefully. He was running, but not fast; it was more of a trot. However, there was some urgency there, like was trying to get the hell out of there for some reason; it was because he heard George coming around the swamp, is what! Well, it was pretty open in there, but there also were a few places where he went behind these cedars. I had only a few seconds to decide where to get my shot, so the next time I he came into this open area, I let him have it, with a single shot.

I saw that I'd hit him, as his entire rearend moved as soon as he was hit. However, for some reason I thought that I'd only wounded him, as he kept going! Shit! I looked for him, I heard something making noise over behind the cedars he'd run behind, and I figured that he'd kept going.

I waited a few minutes, then went out of my tree to see where he'd gone. It's not easy climbing out of a tree stand with a rifle if you're not used to it, believe me. So I went over there, looking for tracks, and just about the time I was wondering where the tracks were, I looked over, and there he was, lying dead. I walked over to him, and sure enough, he was done for. I went back into the treestand to wait for George.

About 40 minutes later, here he comes. I was hoping for another one, of course.

I didn't know whether to play it cool or what. After all, this was the first time that I'd even seen a buck since I shot the last one, about 23 years before that season. That's also a good story, but this deer gets his due, so those other big deer will have to wait.

As to whether or not I played it cool, well, I admit that I was pretty pumped up, so I probably said something smart. I knew that he had at least heard my shot. Anyway, I said told him where the deer was lying, I got out of Lynn's treestand, and went to find the deer.

No deer! I'm thinking what the hell, did the deer get up and leave or something!

When you're in that kind of a situation, all kinds of things go through your brain.

But just as I was imaging all kinds of things, George saw where the deer was lying, and we walked over.

Well, that deer had run smack into a big cedar tree, and knocked himself out cold, is what happened! I felt bad for the deer to have to hit a tree, but since I was the one that killed him, after all, you can't feel too bad under the circumstancs. But there were all kinds of marks on the tree, the deer had connected, so I was thinking, 'ouch!'.

We noticed that I had shot him straight through the heart; actually, it was right across the top, and I still have some of the heart in my freezer along with most of the liver. I'm looking forward to eating that in a few weeks, and when I do, I'll be sure to be thinking about how glad I was that our buddy and pal Lynn Backus put his stand up in a good spot, for me to shoot from. Thanks, Lynn! This year he told me that someone else shot one there this fall, during bow season.

We gutted the deer out, although I have to admit that because it's been 24 years since the last time, I had to have George give me some instructions. And also, for some reason ever since I put this big piece of glass through my finger and it bled all over, I've been somewhat squeamish about blood and most of the time I'll go into shock. However, I did OK and soon George had the thing hooked up to Kathy's new tractor. A few of the neighbors came over to look at it.

There was something strange about that deer, which was that no, he didn't exactly have buck teeth, but he had a hell of an overbite! His lips stuck out probably two inches beyond his lower teeth, which may account for why he ran into that tree.

When we were done, we went back and continued hunting all through his property, and on the way back saw where more deer had been walking in our tracks. However, we didn't see any. I have to say that George has a nice piece of property, and I enjoyed the various little pushes that we did.

During our ride to and from the sawmill, George told me how a lot of the area farmers had obtained permits, and had been killing somewhere in the area of...a lot of deer. I used to go over there and see perhaps 50 deer or so come out into the fields at dusk, but no more! And he made some remarks about shooting does, how that really doesn't help to replenish the deer population. Therefore I was feeling kind of guilty for going down there to hunt, even though I had a doe permit and he was kind enough to agree to let me come down there.

So when I shot that buck, well, I really felt guilty about stealing his deer, so this year I didn't ask to go down there. Also, because of the fact that I was so poor last fall, I wound up eating most of the deer by myself, and unfortunately, didn't have the opportunity to share any of it with him. Sorry, George. I want you to know that I was always thinking about you every time I cooked one of those steaks. I had some set aside, but towards the end of winter I was getting kind of hungry, so I ate it all up. However, I seem to recall that when I offered him some, he said that he'd get some the next time he came up for a bar-b-que, which hasn't yet happened. Maybe there will be some venison at my house by the time he arrives...

The next time I get one, hopefully it will be a real Adirondack deer, not one of those small ones, and I can guarantee there will be enough to go around!

Suzi Rides a Dead Deer

noreply@blogger.com (Grampa Miles) — Tue, 13 Dec 2005 01:28:00 +0000

Suzi Rides a Dead Deer

A Big Buck!

noreply@blogger.com (Grampa Miles) — Tue, 13 Dec 2005 01:14:00 +0000

John French, John LaPoint, Walter Bracy, Carl Blow, Dessico Mayville