outdoors

Unlike winter steelheads, pursued throughout the Great Lakes feeder tributaries, the summer "steelies" have more room to maneuver. And unlike the king salmon, which slams your lure and runs directly away from the boat, the steelhead rainbow trout has multiple tricks up its sleeve. Once feeling the barbs, it may swim toward an unsuspecting angler, creating a slack line and the impression the fish has been lost. And sometimes it is. At other times they will quickly swim toward the surface, catapulting out of the water, twisting and tailwalking as only a member of the rainbow trout family can. Their fight is quite unlike the bulldogging king salmon which typically hooks itself while making its noted long and powerful run. Where the king salmon is a bulldog, the steelhead is an aerialist, an acrobat that requires you be quick on the draw, lowering and raising the tip of your fishing rod while rapidly reeling in line.

The fish I'm holding in the photo I caught while fishing with Batavian Bob Scinta. I really enjoy Bob's fishing philosophy - leave Batavia at 9 a.m., stop for breakfast and then hit Lake Ontario's late afternoon feed. He put us on a lot of fish that day, all but one were king salmon in the 25 lb. class. The lone exception was the steelhead, and that's the one I remember best.

Strong, fast swimmers and noted for their leaping ability, there is something to be said for a fish which launches itself totally out of the water, the sunlight reflecting off its silvery flanks, allowing an angler a brief glimpse of what might have been before crashing back onto the surface and leaving behind a slack line.    

Was it yesterdays rain which brought out the first of our rose of Sharon blooms this morning - or the heat from the previous five days?

Mid to late summer bloomers, rose of Sharon provide color after many flowers have long since faded.

This young Norway spruce, laden with dew, enjoys the soft light of early morning.

This is "Meany" the red squirrel. I mentioned him a few months back - he's the little guy who harrasses all the gray squirrels. Though much smaller than its cousin, the red squirrel displays the feistiness of a weasel when dealing with the grays.

A young catbird situates itself between the trunks of an aged hickory.

A soiled beak may be an indication the catbird was feeding in the leafy debris between the tree trunks. All things considered - plants and animals - everything is no doubt refreshed after yesterdays soaker!

After my last post John Roach asked is we could show the Hawaiian sling. That's me straddling the gunnel, eyeballing the breakers in the distance before slipping over the side. In my right hand is the sling, already loaded and showing the stainless steel shaft w/barbed tip. The handle and tubing loop are at bottom half of the spear. Those waves are crashing against Man 'O War Cay's outermost coral reef, nearly two miles offshore. Just beyond the reef the ocean bottom drops off sharply, sinking to abysmal depth. Once past the breakers its a long way to the next spit of dry land, the Canary Islands off the African coast.

Bahamian law prohibits the use of mechanized spears and scuba gear. Only free diving - mask, fins, snorkel - is allowed. And the choice of spears is limited to slings and pole spears. As I mentioned to John in a previous comment, the sling takes some getting used to, and, depending on your quarry, there's a certain degree of stealth involved. Lobsters, found in cracks, crevices, fissures on the bottom and hidden in the coral, are easier to approach than fish. I used to tell my son-in-law, Jeff, that when hunting lobsters you can pretty much swim right up on them and get off a shot or two before they retreat. Fish on the other hand are warier and react much quicker, particularly dog snappers and black grouper. My advice to Jeff when hunting fish with the sling was "act like a tourist," swim slowly, pretend you're not interested and then take your shot. It's worked well so far.   

My son-in-law, Jeff Bartz, grew up in Stafford and is the youth pastor at Grace Baptist Church in Batavia. An avid outdoorsman he became a good shot with a bow and arrow rather quickly. As a result, I had little doubt he would master a Hawaiian sling. But never for a moment, not in my wildest dreams did I think he would become so proficient so fast. When we started out as dive companions I was his instructor, showing him how to use mask, fins, snorkel and how to use a "sling." Two years later I was relegated to fish retriever, swimming to the bottom to collect fish he'd speared. And I didn't mind one bit, knowing there would be fresh fish on the dining table. But spearing fish on coral reefs a mile or more offshore can be a bit hairy at times as fresh kills often meant predatory species came cruising.

This barracuda provided plenty of thrills - from the moment Jeff speared it until we put it in the boat. After cartwheeling all over the place, the "cuda" died on the bottom in thirty plus feet of water. A few minuters later I hit a nice sized margate that took off into the coral maze with my spear. We were treading water when Jeff said, "There's a shark." Now short of breath I asked "Where?" "Right there" he said, motioning below us. I peered into the water and sure enough, maybe twelve or fifteen feet below us, a gray reef shark came swimming toward the coral, its tail sweeping back and forth, its head swinging from side to side. Anything but oblivious to our presence, the shark paid us no mind and was probably homing in on the wounded margate. 

  Our spearfishing expeditions lasted long enough to gather the evening dinner. We made sure there was plenty of time for family recreational diving. In photo above one of my grandson's has spotted something.

  Turns out to be a sea biscuit. Only 8 years old at the time of photo, he's become quite adept in the water.

  Four year old Michael had no qualms about the ocean. 

But the little guy wasn't quite ready to take the plunge.

A school of striped grunts mingle with a lone tang and a blue parrot fish.

A "stoplight" parrot fish.

Spiny lobsters have no claws....still great eating.

Mutton snapper also provide excellent table fare.

This is a porcupine fish - covered with spines and not good eating!

Upside down porcupine fish!

Reg Sweeting grew up on Man 'O War Cay where he still resides. He works the stone crab and lobster boats in season. Here he's about to take a hatchet to a conch and release vacuum inside.

Having broken the seal he applies the knife....

 

and its conch fritters for dinner....

along with some grouper!

The Man 'O War cemetery. Jeff refers to this pic as "the hope of heaven in the Bahamas." 

Sunset over Marsh Harbour.

While local stream levels were a bit high last week and the water discolored due to recent rain, there were ample photo opportunitites along the creek banks.

A gosling cluster out for a swim....note the lone goose on the bank high to the right.

Here they're about to exit the creek.

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Yellow flag wild iris blooms are numerous this time of year

 

while the blue flag is less prolific.

A fern glade extends to the creek bank

A decaying stump wearing Virginia creeper as a hat

Feeding time

Despite the roily water and overcast sky it was  a good day on the creek!

I never heard of a giant hogweed until one day a couple of years ago  I went for a walk in Corbett's Glen in Rochester.

There was this big leafy plant surrounded by yellow police caution tape and a hand-made sign explaining the dangers of hogweed.

It produces a sap that burns like acid. You don't want to get exposed to it.

The Democrat & Chronicle has a story today about a DEC eradication program that is running out of funding.  This year and next its running on federal stimulus money, but after that, local property owners will be on their own for learning how to properly remove the plant.

The info graphic at the end of the story is a map that includes Genesee County.  A similar, wider-area graphic, is on the DEC site, with a DEC article about hogweed. The maps show two areas of heavy infestation -- more than 400 plants -- in Genesee County. One is roughly in the Bethany area and the other in the Corfu/Darien area. There are another four sites with as many as 400 plants, and four sites being monitored.

And those are only the identified infestation areas. The DEC believes there are many more unidentified locations in the state.

From the DEC site, "Its sap, in combination with moisture and sunlight, can cause severe skin and eye irritation, painful blistering, permanent scarring and blindness. Contact between the skin and the sap of this plant occurs either through brushing against the bristles on the stem or breaking the stem or leaves."

As for plant distribution, "Giant hogweed grows in wet areas along streams and rivers, on waste ground, near houses, in vacant lots, and along railways and roads. It prefers moist soil and can quickly dominate ravines and stream banks."

Gulls -- I guess around here we don't call them seagulls -- on the falls of the Tonawanda Creek behind the County Courthouse.

Late this afternoon, Chris Hamel and his friend James Bonning were on the Tonawanda at the falls fishing.

We had a rare - if not unique - visitor behind the house late Thursday afternoon. It was a cormorant, a diving, fish-eating water bird, common to open water such as Lake Ontario or the waters along the Atlantic shoreline. This was the first time I've seen one on the Tonawanda.

Note the hooked bill, a big help in taking fish. The cormorant is an excellent diver, diving to depths from five to twenty-five feet for a minute or more.

The cormorant is a great fish-catcher, so good in fact, it is the bane of charter boat captains and fishermen on Lake Ontario's eastern basin.

The cormorants wings are not fully water proofed and here it spreads them to dry. 

This particular cormorant was a willing subject, not only staying put for several photos, but displaying as well.

The cormorant obviously had dining plans when it made its Tonawanda stop over. Whether it had any luck I couldn't say.      

Scott Hartman, the Oakfield man accidently shot by his father while turkey hunting, is out of the intensive care unit at Strong Memorial Hospital.

His condition is now listed as "satisfactory."

The 46-year-old Lockport Road resident was struck in the face by shotgun pellets Monday morning after his father apparently mistook him for a turkey.

Hartman was able call 9-1-1 and walk out of the woods on his own, but was listed in "guarded" condition at Strong for a couple of days following the accident.

In the fall of 1962 Ron Grazioplena turned 14, making him old enough to hunt when accompanied by an adult. Back then, as it is now, the waterfowl season was split into two parts, the early and late season. Because his birthday occurred after the first split, Ron partook of the late season duck hunt. It wasn't until the following year - during the autumn of '63 - that he experienced his first goose hunt. 

Ron's entry into the world of the waterfowler took place in a different era, when hunters stood in line for days at the old permit station on Albion Road, hoping to draw one of the available blinds on the Oak Orchard Wildlife Management Area, where duck and goose hunters were limited to 15 shells and all hunting to cease at noon. But Ron and his buddies never had to stand in line. Rather than hunt the game management areas they scouted corn lots, winter wheat fields and the like. Gaining access courtesy of landowners was never a problem.

Ron's high school years at Notre Dame of Batavia limited his hunting to after school and weekends. In 1970 he graduated from St. Bernard College in Alabama with a degree in biology. Rather that apply for a job, he opted to spend the autumn outdoors and proceeded to hunt geese for 70 straight days. It was a regimen he adhered to for nearly two decades, spending every moment possible outdoors. In the process he accessed another form of education, one seldom found in a classroom.

Ron's hunting career began with the youthful anticipation of taking his first duck or goose, to seeking his first bag limit, to striving to take birds on every hunt. Before long he began to invest his time and money into purchasing the best equipment in order to help him attain his goals. Eventually, after years of waterfowling, the time came when he felt that taking his limit of ducks or geese was not nearly as important as the enjoyment of the hunt in all its different aspects. Said Ron, "The frosty chill that comes with first light, sunrise, the whistling of wings over the marsh and the beauty of the birds. Nature began to mean something."  

By 1991 Ron had reached a point where he pulled the trigger only on occassion, discovering he no longer wished to hunt the waterfowl he had enjoyed over the years. By now the family owned a 30 acre marsh and it was at this time when Ron decided he would do his part to help waterfowl thrive. Thus began the building and erecting of wood duck nesting boxes.  

While wood ducks readily took to the nesting boxes, so too did various predators help themselves to the contents of the boxes. One spring, while assisting Ron in the repair of the nesting boxes, we found several with raccoons sleeping inside. And these were boxes that had been placed in the middle of the marsh, far from shore. Still, it had not deterred the strong-swimming racoons. In addition to racoons, mink inhabit the marsh. While not a skilled climber like the raccoon, the mink is an aquatic predator which readily preys on  ducks and their eggs. Thats not too mention weasels, a hazard for shore nesters, then there are  were the winged predators: Great Horned Owls,Redtail  hawks and the like. 

 With so many predators having a taste for waterfowl, Ron developed a new type of nesting compartment, one made from plastic drums, both comfortable and roomy for nesting waterfowl. Made of hard plastic, the drums are secured to steel pipe, their width and and slick surface prevents raccoons and such from taking a firm grip and climbing up and in. In the above photo, the drum on the right has a goose sitting on a clutch of eggs.

 

"This style of nest has a bottom section which enables hen ducks to spend the night with their ducklings safely out of the water, yet out in the middle of the marsh and away from shore predators" said Ron. He refers to them as "duck motels."  

"Past experience has shown that mother ducks, particularly wood ducks, will utilize such a structure to protect their brood at night when they need to be out of the water and under their mother's wings for warmth and protection", he added.

Installing and maintaining the nests, as well as policing the marsh takes a lot of work. Here Matt Moscicki prepares to install nests. Additional help on the marsh includes Jeff Moscicki, Mary MacIntyre, Darla Luttrell and Ron's cousin and marsh owner, Kenny Grazioplene. 

This is Mary MacIntyre showing the location of active nests.

Mary removing debris from the spillway.

Here Matt prepares to set a pipe into the marsh bottom.

Here's Ron enjoying the fruits of their labor as depicted in the following photos. 

A pair of mallards dabbling

As the mallard on left comes up for air, note the water running off his head and down his bill.

The marsh is home to a variety of waterfowl. Sometimes the open water diving ducks show up, like this pair of buffleheads.

Buffleheads taking off. Both bufflehead photos courtesy of Mary MacIntyre.

Check out the pointed bill on this Red-breasted Merganser - he's a diving duck and a fish eater.

A winged predator with an ample wing span flies past...

While nesting waterfowl are protected.... thanks to Ron "Grazo" Grazioplena and his friends.

This drake wood duck photo, submitted by Ron Grazioplena of Batavia, was also touched up a bit around the eye in order to better display the likeness of an old friend of Ron's. 

In the mid-nineties Ron was doing his best to enhance the lives of wood ducks and other waterfowl inhabiting a 30 acre marsh, a family-owned piece of property. With help from his father, the late Mario Grazioplena, Ron erected a series of wood duck nesting boxes. It was during this time period that the little wood duck with the peculiar white markings on its face became a regular visitor to the marsh. The first time he saw the duck, Ron immediately noticed the unique markings around its eyes. The markings, in the form of white piping entirely circling the eye, were were common for hen wood ducks, not males.    

Each day, when Ron tossed dry feed to the feathered inhabitants of the marsh, the "woodie" was on hand to enjoy the handout. Ron became fond of the little wood duck with the strange markings, even giving him a name. Ron called him "Blaze."  For several weeks Blaze was a regular visitor to the marsh. Then, one day, just like that the little duck failed to show up. Next day same thing. When a week passed and still no sign of Blaze, Ron figured his little buddy had either migrated south or shot by a hunter

Weeks passed, the first half of the split duck season closed, Thanksgiving had come and gone and Ron had all but forgotten about the little wood duck. The morning of December 25th found Ron standing along the southwest corner of the marsh, giving the ducks a  Christmas morning handout. He was tossing cracked corn to the marsh inhabitants when a wood duck with strange but familiar markings swam toward him. It was Blaze!

Ron's little buddy had returned. Not surprisingly, the unexpected Christmas morning visit provided a moving moment. And while there is no way of knowing for certain, perhaps Blaze had been hatched right there on the family's marsh - in one of the wood duck nesting boxes erected by Ron and his father.

To fully appreciate the above-mentioned account, one  needs to go back in time, to the fall of 1962, Ron's first hunting season. Stay tuned for Full Circle Waterfowling....Pt. II  

 

Early morning angler tries his luck on the Point Breeze jetty.

Point Breeze Lighthouse....still under construction

Doug Harloff enticing crappies from below overhangs.

Mother goose on a shoreline nest....

while her mate keeps a lookout.

A painted turtle suns itself....

and a Black Crowned Night Heron hides amid branches.

A mute swan dabbling for food.

While the swans are graceful in appearance......

this Canada goose learns how territorial they can be!

One of the "Twin Bridges", a name for the area in a bygone era.

Seagull enclave on the breakwall.

We are about to have our catch inspected.

Monitoring 30 inlets from the Niagara River to Henderson Harbor, this team checks out the number of fish caught, size, species, etc. It was a good morning on the creek, time to head for the Black North Inn for lunch!

 

Dave and Sandra Wheeler enjoy the wide open spaces and life on the farm. On Molasses Hill, in the northeast corner of Attica, the husband and wife team raise American Quarterhorses, Paints, Herefords and Angus. Here, amid the rolling foothills of the Appalachian Plateau, the Wheeler's horses and cattle graze and gambol about in spacious pastures with the lake plain as a backdrop, On a clear day the view is exceptional.   

This photo is taken from the top of Molasses Hill Rd. looking north. The Wheeler farm is a couple hundred yards to the west. Using the zoom lens......

the water tower at the Batavia Vet's Hospital comes into view, to the right are four silos located north of the thruway. The cylindrical shape to the right of the silos is the Elba water tank.

This cavorting Paint certainly seems happy with the location....

while a pair of angus watch the camera.

Casting a wary eye in my direction....

A pair of Paints grazing.........I'll get back to the livestock in a moment, first a couple more scenic shots.

Zooming in from the Wheeler's east pasture, that's the Rochester skyline off in the distance...Xerox Tower, Lincoln Tower, etc.

The plume of smoke on the horizon is spewing from the Somerset smokestack on the shore of Lake Ontario in Niagara County.

 

As this Paint parades past, just inside the woods are a few bovines that decided to play "hooky".

Chow time in the cattle barn....

Munching away....

It was time to say so long, and hopefully I'll see these horses barrel racing at the Attica Rodeo this summer.

This trio of sycamores is situated in a pasture along the bank of Little Tonawanda Creek, barely visible behind the trees. I doubt I ever drive past without being reminded of my days as a bait fisherman. In the 60's and early 70's, while wading the stream with a 4x12 foot net attached to broom handles, I paid little attention to the sycamores. Baitfish flourished in the Little T in those years, and walking slowly against the current provided optimum results. Without fail our haul always included shiners, so many after one pass in fact, if the sun was shining, their silver scales created a minor glare. Catching minnows with a drag seine was like eating potato chips - it was fun and impossible to stop after just one pass.

While the bulk of the catch consisted of shiners in the 3-5 inch range, Creek chubs, suckers and horned dace often turned up in the net. These fish were put into a larger bait bucket and later, at a favored pike haunt, they would be swimming below a slip-bobber rig with an English hook sewn into their back. Seeing your float bob up and down once or twice before quickly disappearing below the surface, then waiting for what you felt was sufficient time for the pike to swallow such a large bait, was exciting stuff. 

Seining minnows was every bit of a good time as the actual fishing and we never knew what to expect when we lifted the net clear of the water. Sunfish, fingerling smallmouth bass, crayfish and the like were no surprise. I once had a water snake bounce off my leg, and on numerous occassions after walking ashore found leeches attached to my ankles....this is was to be expected when your attire consists of cut-offs and old sneakers. I think the leeches may have had something to do with the purchase of my first pair of hip boots.

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The turkey pictured above is roosted in a cottonwood tree normally patrolled by a little red squirrel we call "Meany," so named because he routinely harrasses the much larger gray squirrels. Photo was taken Tuesday afternoon. The turkey had a companion in a neighboring ash tree seen in photo below.

This turkey is looking at the camera.  Still no sign of Meany, and while he remained out of sight, a pair of gray squirrels thought it a good time to drop by.

 

Checking to see if the coast is clear.....

Eyeing up the remains of last fall's apple crop...

Apparently not bad!

 

Overlooking the lake plain from Mudrzynski's Hill in Oakfield

On Oak Orchard Creek at this time of year it is nearly impossible to distinguish the main channel from flooded backwaters

Placid-looking surface belies a strong current

Conifer swamp beyond the power line

At first glance this seems to be nothing more than a reflective image, but a closer look reveals...

beavers constructed their lodge around the trunk of a black willow

Here the beaver has girdled cottonwoods

Apparently the beavers have a taste for wild cherry as well

Tuesday morning, 6 a.m., March 30th, if the pic's a bit blurry....so was the photographer, he hadn't had his coffee yet, but thought you might like to see the "cinnamon moon"

According to one staff member of the Iroquois National Wildlife Refuge, The Comprehensive Conservation Plan is a 15 year planning document calling for the layout of habitat management, strategy and public use opportunities, staffing, and infrastructure including buildings in and around Casey Rd. headquarters. The documentation of the plan should be completed by fall.

 One component of the CCP, habitat management, entails “conifer plantation.” Conifer plantation calls for the removal of non-native evergreens as well as some deciduous shrub species. The species targeted for removal are evergreens, including Norway spruce, Scotch pine and Australian pine. Some white pine, a native tree, will also be removed.  The process will be a twofold operation; some trees girdled, others taken by loggers.

The above mentioned tree species will be replaced with eastern hemlocks and a mix of hard wood species. “We are trying to make more of a natural system,” said the staff member.

The conifer plantation phase has caused concern for some, as indicated by an unsigned letter I received recently. While in no way discourteous, the author voiced concern at the notion of removing decades-old evergreens. The letter is as follows: 

“I write this letter to express my concern over the policy implemented on the Iroquois National Wildlife Refuge. They are considering girdling all the Norway spruce and other evergreens on the refuge. Their stated purpose is to remove non-native species of trees from the refuge. I have been eye witness to literally hundreds of mourning doves flocking to those spruce and pine trees at dusk. The spruce groves in particular have provided excellent cover, helping to establish a large population of mourning doves on the refuge.”  

“I have also witnessed coopers hawks and sharp shinned hawks hunting the spruce groves for doves. If the evergreen trees provide such excellent habitat for mourning doves, coopers hawks and sharp shinned hawks, which are all protected species, is it wise to destroy the habitat in which they thrive? The doves don’t seem to mind nesting in non-native species of trees!”

The writer makes good points – but he’s not done. Also, it should be noted, beginning in the second sentence of the paragraph below, the letter writer and Refuge staff seem to be in partial agreement.

“Surely the destruction of habitat will have a negative effect on these birds, upsetting the natural balance between bird, predator and habitat. If the Refuge wishes to restore native species of trees to the area, wouldn’t it be more productive to plant hemlock trees, which once flourished in the Alabama swamps?  As the hemlocks grow, the spruce and pines groves could be allowed to die out slowly, without causing such a negative impact on native populations of protected bird species. Nature moves slowly. Why not allow slow changes that can support populations of wild life without man’s drastic intrusions? Be a refuge for the birds. Isn’t that your mission?”

All things considered, there are those who see habitat management as a good thing while others   believe that nature, left to its own devices, works things out in its own way and in its own time.    

 

It was only last Sunday when Claudia and I saw our first flock of geese. By Wednesday the skies were filled with myriad waterfowl, a good sign that spring is almost here.

Spring offically arrives at 1:32 pm Saturday, March 20th, but thousands of geese can't be wrong. If their arrival signals an early spring, it's okay with me. 

While the larger ponds and marshes are still covered with ice, throngs of Canadas have been congregating in open fields and small patches of open water.

Some geese took advantage of the open water....

  while others waddled in slushy snow.

A lone goose glides over the phragmites.

Preparing to touch down.

The respite is over...

once again heading for an unknown destination.

All photos were taken off Roberts Road along the southern perimeter of the Iroquois National Wildlife Refuge. Special thanks to my grandson, Sammy, for his assistance!