An Outdoorsman’s view on the River

Since becoming a full time river resident, I have been given many opportunities. I am able to enjoy all of the seasons that living on the river has to offer. Last year a gracious friend granted me permission to enjoy his part of the island, during the deer season. I was able to take advantage of that offer twice last season. I became acquainted with the island and its year round residents, the white tail deer. Pursuing deer on an island is a completely different experience than mainland hunting. The islands are for the most part void of human activity. It is rare in this world, or at least our part of it, to enjoy solitude. It was that solitude that I hungered to enjoy again this fall. I am never really concerned about bringing venison home from there; it is all about the day.

The river was reluctant to provide me a windless, wave less day. It was three weeks into the season before the river saw things my way. A calm southern breeze kept the river surface flat (in the early morning) so I loaded my puddle jumper for another adventure. I packed some rain gear, just in case the rivers demeanor changed. It is no fun getting wet in November. I dropped down five feet into the boat hull for a pleasant ride across the river. I encountered just two boats on my way over. One vessel was trolling for Muskie with stiff rods pointing to the stern. The other vessel was draped in camouflage with duck hunters huddled inside. A raft of diving duck decoys pointed into the wind ahead of the bow. I pointed my boat into my friends dock and stretched to tie her off.

This time of the year it is a chore to disembark onto a fixed dock. The river height has been established for the winter season, much lower than during the summer. The dock surface was even with my chin and I had to stand on the point of my bow, to loop one leg over the dock. I learned my lesson last year when I used my shoulders to hoist myself up. I suffered the consequences for months afterward. My arms would not go any higher than my shoulders without pain. Getting older has a definite price, but on the good side I learn much more quickly than I used to. Old dogs don’t need to learn new tricks; they just have to be aware of their limitations. One foolish impulsive mistake can seriously impair future events. I relish my time outdoors and while there, I take my time and use caution. Speed and agility ruled my actions in my youth. I missed many things that I now absorb with gratitude.

My initial wandering lead to me a patch of goldenrod smattered with thorn apple trees. The goldenrod was dull brown with white seedlings atop, ready to drift off in the wind when disturbed. I have learned to walk into the wind through them, to help keep the tiny seeds from filling my eyes. I also keep my mouth shut; those little buggers are dry and can make for a long choking event. One step into the patch and white flags began to emerge from the ground.

The sight startled me as one deer after another rose from their beds (caused by my intrusion). All I could see were erect ears, hind quarters and those pretty white tails swaying back and forth. Nine deer formed a line and casually lopped across the goldenrod. The heads and necks quickly turned to expose the waving tails as the deer ambled off away from me. I do not shoot at running deer and it was too early anyway. I had not even begun to explore the island. If I had got one to stop and taken it, it would have ruined my plans for the day! 

I walked on a trail to a hill, which enters an old growth patch of oak trees. One of the trees looked as if it had open arms to greet me. It looked remarkably like a tree from Sleepy Hollow and I am sure a horseman was hidden beneath it… awaiting darkness. The island was alive with birds which I have not seen in over a month. A large flock of robins tilted and darted from tree to tree. Blue jays complained and chickadees followed my movements. I encountered two red tail hawks, one sat in a clear tree top until I had the camera ready to capture the close raptor. The photo only captured an empty tree as the hawk drifted away. The curious chickadees administered the same plan. Every time I had the camera focused on one it would flit away on outstretched wings.

My journey took me through more goldenrod and under thorny apple trees. This is where caution comes into play, those thorns are sharp. One wrong step or ducking too fast could place a stout needle into my eye. I had a few penetrate my gloves and pants, which was bad enough. I emerged from the goldenrod into an open meadow overlooking more meadows below. A tree line separated the two meadows and it looked like an excellent area for deer to bed. The area belonged to some one whom I do not know and I did not have permission to trespass, so I just enjoyed the view. I could see the mainland and even my boathouse from the vantage point. An old maple tree that was four feet in diameter had shelves of fungus growing on the trunk. Further on I noticed a paper wasp nest hanging in a thorn apple. It was secure and fit, to protect the wasps from the cold days ahead.

This day the sun was bright and warming, it was in the lower sixties. I took a hike over another ridge, taking my hat off to cool my head. A five foot bush with red berries caught my eye. The berries were oblong and so numerous that they looked like brilliant blossoms. I have not had the time to research what the bush was and I am open to any suggestions. I encountered several more of the odd bushes as I strolled along. There were two thistles in blossom, surrounded by a patch of those already gone to seed. Each two had several purple flowers staged along their stems. The color was a striking contrast to the old dead growth, which was now brown and lifeless. The sound of silence was broken by the noon day whistle. I headed to my premier spot to have lunch and oversee the river.

A low rumbling sound vibrated as I enjoyed a sandwich, apple and chips. I sat on a rock where I could see the river channel with its bright blue water. Open meadows below my high perch, provided me with a majestic vista of the river in autumn. The rumbling sound increased as a CSL freighter traveled down-river, in front and then beyond my sight. I then noticed red raspberries around me. Within an arms reach I had desert, they were small and some of them were crumbly but oh how sweet! Autumn raspberries always have the most fragrant fruit and a deep red juice pops, with flavor. My boney posterior was getting sore from my rock chair so I stretched and ambled on.

The deer trail led into a patch of sumac and some of it had deer sign all over it. When the bucks loose the velvet that covers their gowning horns, they rub it off. A buck had been in the sumac and I could see where it had rubbed the bark off of them, both this year and last year.  I took a seat overlooking a clearing between thickets and called. I carry what is called a grunt call. It is suppose make a buck think that another buck is in his territory. All it has ever done for me is scare sleeping doe! I tried anyway, several times in an hour. I was there long enough for the chickadees to think that I would make a good perch. Maybe they found my grunts amusing and came to make fun of me; I enjoyed their company in either case.

  The sky began to darken and I began to still hunt, taking slow soundless steps through another bedding area. A deer leapt from its bed and zipped up a hill, out of sight before I could even see what it was. My heart raced for a few seconds, the deer was close, less than fifteen yards away! I went above the bedding area into a hickory grove to see if the deer would return to its bed. I sat down and leaned against a hickory tree, soon loosing my eyesight to a pleasant nap. Who knows that deer may have returned, I’ll never know… but the nap was refreshing just the same. Daylight was fading and I had to get back to the cabin before dark. I loaded the boat and a light rain began to fall, it was more of a mist really. My ride back was better than expected and my island hunt was more than expected. I saw some deer, stretched my legs and renewed my love for nature, surrounded by the one and only St. Lawrence River.

Mike LaDue, November 2014