outdoors

That's Leon Selapack, owner of L & L Transmission, holding a pair of lobsters. Photo was taken in late February 2003 near Johnny's Cay, offshore from the island of Abaco, Bahamas. Leon was part of a group that included Batavians Ricky Moore, Scott Offhaus, former Batavian John Fanara and myself. This being his first spearfishing adventure, Leon was a "rookie on the reef," so to speak. The pics were from day three of a week-long outing in which Leon would learn that, while everyone in the group enjoys a good shark story, it's not necessarily fun to be part of one.   

I once read the words of a veteran diver who said, in reference to encounters with predatory sharks, Man, when he starts swinging his head from side to side, it's a good time to be somewhere else"......Those words were far from my mind as I swam toward the bottom amid the square miles of patchwork coral found offshore of the outer islands of Abaco.

Before trying his hand with a Hawaiian sling, Leon decided to take a few pics. Here he caught me armed with a sling, skirting the edge of a coral head and peering into the recesses where fish hide out. Shortly afterward in this very spot, the first shark showed up. It was just off the bottom over a sandy pocket and eight or nine feet long. What's more,  it was close -- too close. And it wasn't just shakings its head from side to side - its whole body seemed to be writhing as it twisted and turned, just a whole lot of rapid movement. It was clearly in a state of agitation.  

Click on the headline to read more.

After surfacing Leon and I made for the boat, keeping an eye on our backside  the entire way. Once on board, we all agreed it would be a good time to relocate. That's Scott at the helm with John Fanara next to him.

After a short boat ride we prepared for another dive. While putting on my fins I was looking at the red and white candy cane pattern of the Hopetown lighthouse on Elbow Cay when Scott asked if I had seen any barracuda yet. Up to that point I hadn't seen a single one, which I thought was unusual.

After donning fins and masks, three of us reentered the water, John and myself with slings, Leon carrying only a camera. It didn't take long for us to put considerable distance between one another. Though unintentional, our going off in different directions was not a particularly good idea.

I don't think we were back in the water for half an hour when shark number two showed up. And I'm sure it was only coincidence but, with this being Leon's first spearfishing venture and armed with nothing but a camera, you probably don't need to guess who the shark took an interest in.

Leon managed to snap this photo before he discovered the shark had "taken a liking" to him. Once he realized the shark wasn't simply passing by, Leon's only concern was getting back to the boat.

The shark's tail appears small and its sickle-shape nearly impossible to make out. With its perpetual sweeping motion, Leon snapped the pic on the "backsweep," with the tail directly away from the camera. The white blur in the lower left corner is one of Leon's fingertips.

With John off in one direction and me in another and totally unaware of our companion's plight, Leon must have felt like an island. In fact, while Leon was being harrassed by the shark John was totally enrapt with the marine life,  particularly a large group of juvenile barracuda, a school numbering 100-200 fish slowly swimming past.  

Meanwhile the shark wouldn't go away, instead moving in closer, making a few passes and following Leon's every move. As a group, we've all had shark encounters in the past, but always without incident. This was unusual, especially since we hadn't speared any fish up to that point. Still, the shark insisted on stalking Leon, and for him each minute must have seemed like an hour and the possibility of an attack very real.

Much to Leon's relief, Scott and Ricky finally got him on board and John and I were picked up moments later. In the photo above, John removes his gear as we get under way to relocate for a second time that morning.

Leon quickly shook off any feelings of trepidation and was back in the water in no time. He did, however, choose to leave the camera on board and take a sling over the side instead. Not long afterward he took his first lobster. 

Scott prepares to hand off his sling before climbing aboard. Sometime after the shark incident John, Scott and myself were swimming over a submerged reef when we spotted an octopus several feet below. As I dove for a closer look, the octopus changed its coloration for an instant. In the blink of an eye it flashed a brilliant white, then quickly changed back to a drab brownish-green. With that it jettisoned off the reef, leaving behind a cloud of ink. I once thought such a tactic was a defense mechanism, but I've since learned that quickly turning white is their first reaction when frightened.

Here's Ricky Moore. In addition to spearfishing, Ricky tends to captain's duties when Scott is diving. He also serves as troubleshooter for the group, real "MacGuyver" who has made emergency repairs on the water, ranging from fixing a faulty bilge pump to jerry-rigging the surgical tubing on our slings. 

This is John and I with a quartet of "sters" as John would say. Like Ricky, John is a multi-tasker on these trips: he's not only productive with a sling in his hands, he also cleans the entire day's catch and tends to the chef duties. Thanks to his culinary skills, dinner most evenings was a veritable feast of seafood and pasta. 

With its frilly edge, this pure white flatfish looked like a lace doily. A type of  flounder or sole, after taking the photo I gave it a gentle nudge with my sling and off it went, moving through the water like a magic carpet before settling onto the sandy bottom. There it blended in so well it literally disappeared before my eyes.  

With a breaker crashing over the outermost reef in the background, Leon relaxes on the bow.

A few days later we boarded the puddle-jumper for the first leg of our trip home. Even before our plane neared the end of the runway it was airborne and after gaining altitude I was able to see the Hopetown lighthouse. From there it was easy to pick out Johnny's Cay just to the north. Beyond Johnny's was the turquoise-blue water that covered the coral reefs and a week's worth of adventure.

Normally, the sky serves as a backdrop for innumerable photo subjects and under a variety of conditions. But there are those times when the sky itself is the subject. On such occasions the sky needs no help, no setup, all by itself it steals the show...this sunrise as seen from Genesee Community College literally stopped me in my tracks. After I snapped the above photo, the following moments were like looking into a panoramic viewfinder as the horizon went through some rapid changes...

Shape-shifting clouds, intense yellows, red and orange. Whether it be described as moving, inspirational or spectacular...it was totally surreal.

The pics hardly do the scene justice -- what you see in the photos spanned the horizon from north to south, an unbroken view of the entire surrounding area.  There is certainly something to be said for rising early.

Once autumn foliage is gone, bony branches and various moon phases offer a variety of photo ops. This pic has a Halloween look to it.

Playing a waiting game with the moon, wind and clouds...

It was a crisp, cold winter night when I pointed to the crescent moon and my dad promptly told me it was one of his fingernails he had thrown into the sky. Yeah, I believed him...I was of pre-school age at the time.

This is one of Claudia's favorite evening photos taken from our back yard. 

Another of Claudia's photos...it reminds me of  a '50s and '60s TV ad...hint: "plop, plop, fizz, fizz."

Late in the day cloud bank, August 2011

Lunar nocturne

This winter has seen a drop in the normal activity around our bird feeder. Juncos, chickadees, nuthatches and the like have been infrequent visitors. That's not surprising -- the mild winter has afforded them ample feeding opportunities afield. Despite the food abundance in the wild, the cardinals have shown up with regularity.

The sharp-shinned hawk, pictured above, must be enjoying the winter weather, as small birds make up a good part of its diet. I've seen that intense stare at close range once before. My first encounter with a "sharpie" took place while I sat in a tree stand. That autumn afternoon it flew in for a brief stop, perching a few feet away -- I assumed it was attracted to the turkey quill fletching on my arrows.  

The cardinal's coloration causes it stand out even on a dismal day or in a forest interior. Though pleasing to the eye, with bird-eating raptors in the vicinity it's akin to placing a target on its back. 

The sharp shinned hawk's long legs, short rounded wings and very long tail all come in handy for coursing through the woodlands at high speed in pursuit of its prey.

This cardinal has so far managed to stay off the sharpie's menu. Around our home, at the first sign of trouble small birds fly into a spiraea hedge or thick  grapevines in an adjacent woodlot.

While they are built for winged pursuit, the sharp-shinned hawk will also pounce on its quarry from a low perch, notably small mammals such as mice and voles. That may have been what he was up to before I arrived. In the above photo, he's unfolding his wings and a second later he was airborne, flying deeper into the woods.

John Starkweather is lucky to be alive. He knows it. He wants other hunters to know it, too.

According to hunting safety instructor Bill Fox, in Western New York this past season, five people fell from tree stands. Four died. Starkweather made it, though he almost didn't.

"I love hunting," said Starkweather, whose father, a chicken farmer in Pavilion, first took him out looking for game 30 years ago. "If I can save one person, whoever it is, I would feel I've done my part. I don't want someone to go through what I've gone through."

An avid bow hunter and a truck driver for Wegmans, Starkweather scheduled his vacation to coincide with bow season, and on his second day out, Nov. 1, Starkweather went to a tree stand he's used a few times over the past four years.

He arrived at about noon on his aunt's property on Gilhooly Road in Alexander and climbed up to the stand with his bow and arrows.

And he waited. And he waited. And he waited. Starkweather was skunked.

As evening approached and an afternoon of zero game passing within range, Starkweather decided it was time to climb out of the tree stand.

The 45-year-old father of two teenagers unbuckled from his harness and climbed out of the stand.

"I've stepped on that branch many times over the years," Starkweather said. "This time, the branch broke."

He fell 26 feet.

He doesn't know how long he laid on the ground unconscious.

When he awoke, he knew he was badly hurt. But he was able to reach his mobile phone in his pocket and call 9-1-1.

Alexander Fire Department arrived within minutes, with firefighters riding a gator to his location, guided by information he gave to emergency dispatchers who relayed it to responders. 

Mercy Flight was called to the scene and he was airlifted to Erie County Medical Center.

His injuries were extensive and serious.

"I had eight broken ribs, a broken shoulder blade, collapsed lung, lacerated liver and two cracked vertebrae," Starkweather said, and looking at his wife, Stephani, "Is that it?"

"Yes," she replied.

"Oh, and two chipped teeth," John added. "There was so much. The list never stops."

After a week in the hospital, Starkweather returned home to begin his recovery.

On his fourth day home, Starkweather tried to scratch his back and the main artery to his liver broke open.

Stefani, an assistant physical therapist, said he stopped breathing and was turning blue. She could hear his heart, and also knew because of the cracked ribs, chest compressions were not an option. She started mouth-to-mouth and their son called 9-1-1.

When East Bethany firefighters arrived they put him on oxygen and he started to revive. He remembers being carried outside and when the cold air hit him, he said he was fully aware from that moment on of what was going on.

He needed another airlift, but Mercy Flight #5 was out of the area and too far away (Starkweather was likely the first patient on the brand new Mercy Flight #5 on Nov. 1). The State Police helicopter from Batavia was called to the scene and Starkweather was airlifted to Erie County Medical Center.

Surgeons opened Starkweather, who was in an induced coma, and left his body open for three days to ensure all bleeding was controlled. They inserted a stainless steal tube to replace his damaged artery.

"I was in the hospital for my vacation, my birthday and Thanksgiving," Starkweather said.

He still has visible bed sores on the back of his head.

"He's lucky," Fox said. "He's absolutely lucky. That's why I so intensely want him to come and talk (to a safety class). Hopefully, for the younger generation, instead of us telling them, 'This is what can happen,' he can show them."

Fox said it's especially important to stress tree stand safety with bow hunters. Because of the limited range of bows, they use tree stands in the hope of passing game and the chance to get within 20 or 30 yards in order to fire off a shot.

The week Starkweather was in the hospital, another bow hunter seeking game in Genesee County, fell to his death.

Charles E. Sossong, 42, of Lockport-Olcott Road, Newfane, was in a tree stand located off Sour Springs Road, Alabama. When he didn't meet his hunting partner, his partner went looking for him and found him on the ground seriously injured.

There are no details available on how Sossong fell or what safety device he might have been using.

"It's a big issue and we stress tree stand safety a lot in the course because it's especially important for bow hunters," Fox said.

In Starkweather's home are a few trophies bagged with his bow, from a bear to a deer with a nice eight-point rack and the skull of a wild boar he killed on a hunting reserve overseas.

He said he knows all about safety, but on Nov. 1, maybe he got just a little bit complacent, a little too comfortable with something he's done many times.

Starkweather said the harness he was using that day was kind of old-school. It's designed to hold the hunter in the tree stand once he takes position. It offers no protection while getting in and out of the stand, which is the most dangerous time.

A newer harness would connect from the top of the stand to the ground, and if a hunter started to fall, the belt clip would catch, much like a car's seat belt, preventing a fall.

The systems are expensive, though, which may be why hunters still don't use them as much as they should, though Starkweather is now convinced they're worth it.

"You always say, it can't happen to me," Starkweather said. "That's the cliche, right? Well, it can happen to you."

As for Starkweather, he said the only tree stands he will climb into in the future will use a ladder. He's not taking any more chances.

"There's never been any doubt he would keep hunting," Stefani said. "He loves it too much. It's who he is."

Just like John, Stefani doesn't want to see another hunter's family go through what the Starkweathers have been though, which is why she supports John talking about his injuries so publicly.

"He's always been so active, so strong and so on the go," said Stefeni, who for the first time while we talked, struggled against a few tears. "Seeing him so injured, having to put his life on hold, has been hard, especially for somebody you love so much."

Starkweather knows just how fortunate he is, and part of the reason he's alive, he acknowledged, are the emergency personnel who responded, first to his accident, and then to his medical emergency at home.

He especially wanted to thank the personnel of the Alexander and East Bethany volunteer fire departments, Mercy EMS, Mercy Flight, the Sheriff's Office and State Police.

"I'll never get another piece of paper from Mercy Flight or a volunteer fire company asking for money and just throw it out," Starkweather said.

Somewhat silhouetted by the sun, these phragmite plumes stand out nicely against the blue winter sky, creating a scene hardly resembling early February. 

To my memory, I don't recall seeing as much waterfowl activity in our area as evidenced this winter. With no snow cover, waterfowl have been able to glean the grain fields, and local waters have iced over only occassionally but never for very long.

This scene is more reminiscent of April -- and trout season.

This snowfall was picturesque and like the others it didn't last long.

Here dining on sumac, wintering songbirds haven't had trouble finding food this season. While sumac is a normal part of their winter diet....... 

it seems they don't care much for sumac sno-cones.

By Sunday morning these waterfowl could find themselves evicted. Predicted low temps for Friday and Saturday show single digits and this mantle of ice could envelop the entire marsh.

It's been a nice run but we're certainly not out of the woods yet. Over the course of the next few weeks will we see more blue sky with just an occasional bite from Old Man Winter......

or will we one morning wake up to a setting such as this?

As mentioned in my previous post, by the late '80s chasing down northern pike had taken a back seat on my list of priorities. I did, however, enjoy watching pike -- in addition to other species -- in their own element. Skin-diving local impoundments made that possible and that is how Jody Hebdon and myself bumped heads with one particular northern pike, an encounter that was not only unexpected but also quite invigorating.

On a hot July afternoon several years ago, we had donned mask, fins and snorkel in an attempt to cool off. We hadn't been in the water long when we spotted what looked like the tail end of a decent-sized pike sticking out of the weeds, the rest of it hidden by the dense growth. Several feet below us the fish remained motionless while we watched from the surface. Then, with no warning, it vacated the weed bed with one mighty sweep of its tail. Streamlined and built for ambush, in the blink of an eye that pike was out in the open where we could see its size.     

As I swam down for a closer look, the fish began swimming away from me. Then, about the time it disappeared into the depths, I noticed something strange. There, several feet below the surface, some of the taller growth at the edge of the weed bed appeared to be swaying. Ever so slowly it was beginning to lean in the direction where the fish had disappeared. Taking a closer look, I saw a single strand of monofilament fishing line wrapped around the moving weeds. From there the line angled downward toward the deep water, other end no doubt attached to the pike.

What to do? Grab the line? You bet! But first I needed air. After reaching the surface I told Jody, between deep breaths, just what the deal was. I dove again, seeing small perch and bite-sized bluegills hovering idly about as I tried to relocate the line. I was nearly out of air again when I saw it. Thinking to myself, here goes nothing, I took hold of it and began back finning to the surface. Ascending, I kept my eyes on the line, following it into the darkness. On the other end I could feel the fish, then watched as it emerged from the depths -- and what a sight it was. The pike undulated, shaking its head from side to side, its mouth wide open and gills flared. I remember feeling as though I was watching a Jacques Cousteau documentary.

Water tends to magnify an object, making it appear 25 percent larger than its actual size. Once on the surface, and with the fish twisting and turning below, I turned to Jody and stole what may have been Roy Scheider's most memorable cinema line (from "Jaws" of course), blurting out, "We're gonna need a bigger boat!"

Several times I slowly worked the fish close only to have it take back the line each time, not in long, slashing runs, but slow and deliberate, disappearing back into the depths. Jody and I would later discover there were 19 yards of line attached to the pike -- exactly 57 feet. 

After 45 minutes of give-and-take, we had worked the fish into water about six-feet deep. Previous experience with pike told me the most crucial time was at hand. Fish about to be brought to the net often go ballistic -- even those appearing exhausted. And because we had no net, we planned to slip our hands beneath the pike and flip it onto shore. What's more, we had a mouthful of needle-sharp teeth to contend with.

Of all the pike I've tangled with through the years, this one certainly ranks right up there in terms of excitement -- perhaps even more so. I mean, how often does one get face to face with their catch while it's still in the water?

When I was in ninth grade, science teacher Ron Warren, having posed a question to the class, said, "Mr. Nigro, would you please stand up and give us the wrong answer." 

I didn't do too bad scholastically during my junior high school years -- but I should have done better. The reason being, I seldom paid attention. A good deal of my classroom time was spent daydreaming about catching fish. Later, as my high school years were drawing to a close, instructor and fellow angler Don Andrews told me that, if I were ever to fall down and crack my head open, northern pike would spill out all over the floor. 

My early pike fishing fantasies were limited to the Tonawanda Creek, occurring anywhere from Parker Grinnell's pasture to the entire stretch of creek downstream from Whiskey Run.

Sometime in my 20s the wilderness waters of the Far North beckoned, and those imagined scenarios began to take place in a land of muskeg and jack pines, places only accessible by float plane. But regardless of the location, those daydreams never involved catching a lot of pike, just one big tackle-smashing brawler that would inhale a wobbling spoon and peel line from my reel like a runaway freight train.

Before those dreams became reality, there was a short stint where I tried my hand at ice fishing. Back then I wasn't so bothered by the cold and pulling pike through the ice helped the winter months pass quickly.

Whether fishing in remote locations or close to home, the pursuit of northern pike provides a volume of memories. Yet after float-plane rides into the wilderness of Manitoba, the far north of Ontario, the barrens of the Northwest Territories, and along the way discovering the tenacity of wilderness lake trout, by the late '80s my zeal for pursuing the toothy northern had diminished a great deal. Thus, the stage was set for a most unexpected and exciting encounter with old esox lucious................stay tuned!

In any other year this chipmunk would have long since retired to its winter sleeping quarters. But with the unseasonal temps, all the leaves down and a lone apple beckoning, this little fella ventured into the upper reaches of our tree for an early winter treat.

As I've mentioned in previous posts, we've had numerous visitors eat the apples -- squirrels, cottontails, woodchucks and a variety of birds. But this is the first we've noticed a chipmunk sampling the fruit.

While he appeared a bit tentative at first, eventually he dove in with gusto.

Oops -- nearly forgot to say a blessing...........................................................

.........................................................................................Amen.

It appears he stuffed his cheek pouches to the max for his long winter nap!

That's Mike Barrett pictured at the counter of Barrett's Batavia Marine. His father, the late Dave Barrett, sold me Remington 870 when I was 17. Knowing it was my first shotgun, he threw in a box of shells, #5 pheasant loads. Not long afterward, I purchased my first wild game cookbook. While those are two of my earliest memories of Barrett's, they are far from the first.

Barrett's was founded in 1954 by brothers Dave and Charlie Barrett. At that time, my visits to the west end of the city were either to John Castronova's Redtop for char-broiled Arpeko hot dogs or to Flavorite Farms for ice cream.

Mike Barrett has seen the numerous changes through the years and he easily recalls the wide-open spaces on the west end and the mere handful of businesses in operation then.

Not only are those establishments gone, so too are the wide-open spaces.

Today, despite the crowded surroundings and the fast-paced world around them, Barrett's remains a favorite among the outdoor crowd.

In addition to hunting and fishing gear and outdoor wear, Barrett's is still the place to take an outboard in need of repair, have a gun barrel reblued or have the eyelets on a favorite fishing rod repaired.

As might be expected, members of the sporting community don't always enter the store intent on making a purchase. Oftentimes they simply need input and advice, whether it be hunting and fishing tips, tactics, equipment care or legal aspects of their sport.

And that hasn't changed over the years. I'd be remiss if I failed to mention some of Barrett's employees who provided helpful insight in days gone by -- people like Bob Smith (now City of Batavia Animal Control Officer), Danny Carmichael and the late Paul Levins, each of whom supplied countless people with conscientious service and answers to their questions.  

Above is Jack Taylor, Genesee County Chapter president of SCOPE (Shooters Committee on Political Education). A 20-year employee with Barrett's, Jack is much like his predecessors at the store -- he's eager to assist customers.

John Lawrence, angler, hunter and former trap-and-skeet All-American, looks over a shotgun he had refinished.

Evidently, he's pleased with the results.

That's Jim Quartley perusing the aisles. He's been frequenting Barrett's since he was old enough to peddle a two-wheeler. Any fishing equipment he purchased in those early years was immediately tested in the waters of Tonawanda Creek.

Warsaw trapper Gary Smith looks over the store's inventory. He said he'll be putting out sets for mink, muskrat and beaver this season.

I've enjoyed a memorable outing or two with this guy in days gone by...He's avid trapper, waterfowler and noted flyfishermen, Ron Wickings.

In addition to his ability as a gunsmith, Mike Barrett is up to date on outdoor policy and changes that affect the outdoorsmen of New York State. Here he briefly reflects on recent issues concerning the outdoor scene. 

A customer checks out the merchandise on the used gun rack...and it brought back memories. I purchased my first rifle from that same rack in the late '60s, a Winchester 225. It was the aforementioned Bob Smith who sighted that gun in for me -- he had it dead-on at 150 yards.

It's a pity that neither of this pair cares to bring a camera afield -- if either one had ever kept a journal of their outdoor exploits it would have made a great sportsmen's anthology.

This painting on Barrett's wall reflects the atmosphere of the store itself, capturing an earlier time, when the covers of outdoor magazines weren't glossy photos, but graced with the work of gifted artists, people who created settings that captured the imagination of young outdoorsmen.

The men who walked into the store on this day -- and others like them -- have spent a good part of their life enjoying such settings, be it cattails or woodlots, field or stream. And their adventures often began with a stop at Barrett's.

Amid the honking of geese and the feeder chuckle of hungry mallards, a dozen tundra swans were clustered together on the low ground of the massive grain field. Unlike the ducks and geese, the swans were silent, content to rest, preen and forage in the murky field runoff.

Given a choice, I would have preferred to capture the swans flying in formation against a backdrop of blue sky. Unfortunately the sky was overcast and the swans were already on the ground. Beggars can't be choosers.

Normally I would have been happy to hunker down and watch the ducks and geese. Myriad waterfowl were dropping out of the sky nearly nonstop to feed in 80 acres of recently cut corn. There's something graceful in the method ducks and geese employ on their descent, the symmetry in their cupped wings, tipping slightly one way then the other while zeroing in on a potential feast -- especially when arriving in such large numbers. 

On this day it was the swans which had piqued my interest and while I considered the opportunity a sheer bonus, I had no way of knowing the situation would soon take an interesting turn, courtesy of one furry predator. 

I had been watching this pair of swooners for several minutes when off in the distance I noticed an orange blur of movement moving rapidly along the ground. It was a red fox, slinking its way through the cut corn, moving in for what appeared to be an easy meal among the hundreds of waterfowl ... all the fox had to do was select a target.

Naturally, I figured one or more of the feathered critters would sound the alarm, thus causing a mass exodus of both ducks and geese. I readied the camera, hoping to get a photo of the southeast horizon as it turned black with hundreds of panicked waterfowl. But things didn't turn out exactly as I expected.

The fox alternately skulked and scurried through the cut corn, paying no mind to the ducks and geese. The geese, in turn, paid no mind to the red fox slipping through their midst. In fact, there wasn't the slightest sense of urgency, no rise in the crescendo of their two-tone honking as is usually the case in times of apparent danger. Instead the geese merely raised their heads to keep an eye on the intruder. 

Not as confident as the geese, the ducks took wing and circled the field several times before alighting farther away.

With geese on every side, the fox crept forward. He appeared to be focused solely on the swans. I couldn't help but wonder what caused this obviously healthy and robust-looking red fox to pass up an easy meal. Was it curiosity?

After all, tundra swans do pass through, but they are not something we (or a red fox) see every day. On the other hand, when confronted, a lone goose can and will give a good account of itself, inflicting damage with its wings. And the fox was certainly outnumbered. Maybe he thought the guys in white were easy!

The fox came to a stop at the water's edge. There he simply stared at his intended quarry, sizing them up for several moments. Either he didn't want to get his feet wet or he realized the swans were considerably larger than the geese -- and perhaps more formidable.

Eventually the fox left and judging from its exit, it either winded me or spotted me. It turned tail and fled, darting through the corn the same way it came, putting to flight two or three geese that happened to be in its path. By that time on a dead run, the fox still paid no mind to the honkers, instead high-tailing it toward the distant woodlot from whence it came.

Mary Hale sent in this picture of her daughter Liz Wilkosz, 26, formerly of Elba, who shot her first deer, an eight-point buck, this morning on Molasses Hill, Elba. Pictured with Liz, from left, are her brothers Tim and Ed, boyfriend Keith and friend Warren.

NOTE: There is a Molasses Hill in Elba.  It's private property. It's off Barrville Road.

A couple of years ago this 6x6 bull elk was bugling in the mountains of Colorado when bowhunter Jack Chmielowic Jr. first laid eyes on him. It was a moment in time he wanted to remember. In recreating the moment, he would need someone  with experience and a meticulous nature who provides quality work. Not long after arriving back in Genesee County he placed a call to Doug Harloff of Back to Nature Taxidermy. 

Several months later the process was complete and Jack Chmielowic, above left, was quite satisfied with the outcome. That's Doug on the right. 

"It's hard to believe 24 years have elapsed since I began my own taxidermy business here in Oakfield," Harloff said. "During that time, my business has grown and I've mounted fish, upland game, waterfowl, small game, bear, buffalo, antelope, elk, caribou and thousands of deer heads. Every day is really neat because there is something new to work on and I am never bored."

While he enjoys working in his studio, there was a time when taxidermy was the farthest thing from his mind.

"After graduating from Batavia High in 1984 I worked on my dad's farm for a year. The following year I enlisted in the U.S. Air Force, and while I didn't give it a whole lot of thought at the time, I suppose there was the possibility of going to college after I did my hitch," he said.

But never in his wildest dreams did he imagine he would have the opportunity to receive an education while still serving in the military.

"I was stationed at Shaw Air Force Base in South Carolina when I first met the Reynolds, an elderly couple who had their own taxidermy business. I just walked into their shop one day and eventually we became good friends. After a while they took me under their wing, introducing me to the old-school style of taxidermy.

While it was a bit primitive by today's standards, working with them gave me the basic knowledge of mounting fish, birds and deer heads. Nowadays, a person can spend a lot of money on tutition to attend a professional taxidermy school or training. Needless to say, I was very fortunate to have met the Reynolds."

While the Reynolds taught Doug Harloff the art of taxidermy, what he didn't reallize at the time were some of the realities and responsibilites of running his own shop and the costs involved. 

"When you take into consideration the outlay for supplies, electric, heat, advertising, just to mention a few, by the time you're done paying the bills, you're not that far ahead at the end of the day. If I stopped to figure out the amount of time I invest in each mount, I would cringe if not for the fact that what really matters is the end product.

"To take a downed animal and bring it back to a lifelike state, (and) in the process recreate the customer's wildlife encounter is an endeavor requiring practice, patience and a great deal of tolerance. It has been a learning process and, in my estimation, it has become an art form as well."

One of his future goals is to become heavily involved in state and national taxidermy organizations and to enter his work alongside the best competing with the best taxidermists in the country and to have his work critiqued by those considered tops in the business.

"A quality mount takes time and for this reason, as well as a backlog of job orders, a customer should expect to wait a year to 18 months to get their mount back. I will not and do not rush to push my mounts out the door. It's hard enough making sure the tanning process worked (one lesson I learned the hard way a while back). Now I am basically doing a double tan on all my mounts, which of course takes a lot more time."

Harloff is well aware that, due to the sluggish economy, money can sometimes be tight and a full shoulder mount might be out of the question. For this reason he offers an affordable option called the European skull mount.

In this process he utilizes dermetid (flesh-eating) beetles which clean the skull before he lightens them to a bone-white finish.

"It's a very neat and cool looking mount," he said, a statement underscored by the number of requests for such a mount.

"Seven years ago I expanded my business into offering a high quality, very clean deer processing operation where a hunter can drop off his deer and have the venison cleaned, trimmed and vacuum sealed.

"It's convenient for someone having taxidermy work done, as it eliminates having to make two stops. For this reason I've built a walk-in cooler and limit what I take in on a daily basis."

In addition to the traditional cuts of venison he offers fresh sausages, jerky, snack sticks, venison jalapeno hot dogs and venisom ham.

Despite his workload, Harloff has found time to help the down and out.

"A few years ago I also began working with the vension donation program. It allows a hunter, if he or she so chooses, to donate their deer to the Western New York food bank to help feed local needy families. All a hunter needs to do is have their deer freshly harvested and legally tagged before dropping it off. It is an organization which I am proud to be affiliated with."   

Doug would like to extend his thanks to all his past customers and wish everyone a safe and enjoyable deer season. You can reach him at Back to Nature Taxidermy, 585-356-9905.

Well known for its spectacular autumn scenery, Letchworth State Park sees a good number of visitors this time of year. And while many sightseers flock to the High Falls, Lower Falls and Great Bend overlook, all noted scenic attractions, there are several smaller, lesser known falls and cascades, all equally picturesque. 

I spent a fair amount of time at the park in the mid to late '90s, but always down on the river. That said, I never noticed settings such as the one pictured above.

A forrested section of the gorge

A nice steady flow, pleasing to the eye

This setting conjured an image of a dish of broccoli sprinkled with Trix!

Come late March and into April, with the spring runoff, the water must be roaring over this place.

Great Bend. I was a fortunate to be able to raft and kayak the Genesee River through the gorge back in the day -- it gives one a totally different view.

lf the water wasn't so cold I would like to have rolled up my pants and hunted for crayfish and salamanders.

For fall color, maples are among my favorite - especially when they're deep red.   

I used my zoom to the max to capture this hawk high above the gorge. While I had to make several stops to get these photos, all he had to do was glide on the thermals.

This is a view of the Moose River as seen from the Route 28 bridge in McKeever, NY. Bill Moon and I arrived in Old Forge on a Thursday to do a bit of sightseeing and picture taking before canoeing the north branch of the Moose the following day. 

We drove further north to Inlet where Bill had bow hunted in the past. Old logging roads offered access well off the beaten path, with numerous campsites along the way. Here the late afternoon sun illumines towering spruce trees.      

Dead timber, colorful maples and spruce frame the shoreline of a placid pond.

A totally calm surface on Nick's Lake provides a mirror image along the shoreline. 

These canoes no doubt saw a good deal of use this year, but on this day not a soul around. 

Winterberry -- we would see plenty of this stuff growing along the north branch of the Moose River. There we would find it in huge clusters and already minus much of its leafy growth. Stay tuned -- the canoe trip was quite breathtaking.

We hadn't traveled very far when, from the stern of the canoe, I heard Bill Moon say, "Listen to that." Except for the sound of his voice, there was absolute silence. He was referring to the solitude of the Adirondack wilderness. At the time we were paddling the north branch of the Moose River where it winds through brushy banks lined with winterberry and distant hills in the background

Downstream a ways, we would enter green corridors of spruce and pine, and finally stretches of river where the evergreens and maples mingle, splattering a predominantly green shoreline with red and yellow.

"Our ability to perceive quality in nature begins, as in art, with the pretty. It expands through successive stages of the beautiul to values as yet uncaptured by language." 

                                     Aldo Leopold, "A Sand County Almanac"

With the hardwoods already having lost much of their foliage, the evergreens had lost a bit of their backdrop...

yet they towered above the river bank, as aesthetically pleasing as ever.

Except for small birds flitting and rustling in the winterberry, these mallards provided one of our few glimpses of wildlife. Occasionally, the sound of geese could be heard, though they were nowhere in sight. Once or twice we heard the guttural squawk of a raven - it too was heard and not seen. 

The day was sun-filled and warm, the setting serene. The  leaning sycamore pictured above seems to be whispering to the trees on the opposite bank.

Clusters of winterberry  

The sound of water rushing over rocks and around and under sizeable boulders indicated it was time for our lone portage of the trip, a canoe-tote of approximately 200 yards. The portage trail was well-defined, though there were numerous tree roots spanning the path which tested our agility -- and patience.

Bill has made this trip a number of times - here's  "ol' man river" and his understudy!

I'd like to share with you a few whitetail photos that were passed along by the "Talk of the Tines" crew, a handful of outdoorsmen from Batavia and Bethany. The deer pictured above is one of the first things you will see on their new website, http://www.talkofthetines.com.

The photo was taken this past summer, not long after DJ Tosh decided to include the use of trail cams and video equipment in his preseason scouting strategy. Two of his hunting companions, GCC students Alec and Bryce Kirsch, after having listened to DJ's idea, were really keen on the idea of filming whitetails.

Once the trio began taking pictures and video they began to capture some dandy bucks on film. Some were taken at night, like the big guy caught on the trail cam. Others were taken during the day. A few, like the big buck seen cutting and running with two other bucks in the third photo, appeared on both, having been captured by the trail cam after dark as well.

"We start watching for bucks mid to late summer to see what's out there," DJ said. "If a deer is 'pushing' good horns at that time, you know he's gonna be a decent deer. Then its time to get out the cameras and set up in spots where we think we might be able to get pictures. Trail cams are more accessible now, price-wise. That wasn't always the case."      

DJ's eye for detail doesn't soley apply to deer. He and his wife, Charissa, are youth group leaders at Grace Baptist Church in Batavia. One day a pair of teens walked in to a youth group function wearing camo and DJ immediately noticed the Kirsch twins. DJ previously attended West Bethany Baptist Church where Jim Kirsch, the boys' father, is pastor.

"I noticed the camo first thing," DJ said. That led to a discussion which quickly got around to his favorite outdoor pusuit. The three have been chasing whitetail bucks ever since.

They knew a website would be an undertaking which would require commitment, responsibility and the need for helping hands. This would pose no problem. Only 29, DJ is also the owner/founder of 9-10 Builders. The name of his business is derived from the Book of Ecclesiastes, Chapter 9, Verse 10,"whatever thy hand findeth to do, do with thy might" -- in other words, whatever you do, give it your best and it has become DJ's life verse.    

One of the first things on DJ's to-do list was reach out for sponsors. The response was favorable with companies from the Midwest, all producers of outdoor products, lending their support. Among them are Seemz Technology scent eliminators, Muddy Outdoors and Motion Camera Arms.

Next he enlisted the help of friends and fellow hunters Zack Dawson and Jeff Bartz. Zack, along with his wife, Jess, are also youth group leaders at Grace Baptist where Jeff is the youth pastor. Zack, who is pursuing a pastoral ministry, will work on developing an outreach and discipleship ministry while Jeff is the blog coordinator for the website. (On Friday, Jeff had an interesting phone conversation with noted Southern Tier author/photographer Charles Alsheimer.)

Zack and Jeff's duties will free up DJ and the Kirsch brothers to concentrate on hunting and filming, though all will participate in the outdoor aspects of the operation. Zack is already becoming quite familiar with the photo aspect.

"Taking pictures we try to cover as much ground as we can," he said. "With a good lens you can zoom in from 200 yards." 

DJ added that actual hunting takes a bit more planning.

"We have fixed stands that are based on terrain or habit, a deer's repetitive movement or pattern. The bigger deer are harder to pattern so we all carry climbers," he said, referring to portable tree stands. 

After talking with the group last week, and especially after having checked out their website, it became obvious their endeavor is about much more than the pusuite of whitetails.

As DJ Tosh put it, "It's about friends, family and camaraderie in the outdoors. ... My desire to film and do the website has been fueled by the willingness of the others to get involved. It's a group endeavor."

Despite being in its early stages, the website http://www.talkofthetines.com. is already receiving a good bit of traffic. The bow season opened Saturday and as the season progresses the Talk of the Tines crew is certain to kick into high gear with more photos, videos, blogs and experiences afield being updated on a regular basis as they share their outdoor adventures and the privileges and blessings they so enjoy.  

On Saturday, Nov. 19, the opening day of the firearms portion of the deer season, the Talk of the Tines crew will be hosting a Hunters Gathering at the West Bethany Baptist Church from noon until 2 p.m. with food and refreshments, door prizes and the opportunity for hunters to have their picture taken.

From Jake's father, Jeff Maurer:

My 17-year-old son, Jake Hunter Maurer, took this 17 pointer on opening day of this year's archery season, Saturday October 15, 2011.

He was hunting alone on the evening of the first day of this year's bow season and though the weather was not ideal, a little windy and cool, this buck meandered through and was the only deer that he saw that afternoon. It presented a 20-yard shot and Jake was able to make it a successful one.

He found his arrow and returned home for an hour then went back out with his friend and father to track it. It had only traveled about 80 yards where they found out just how big he really was. With 17 scoreable points, it may have to be recorded as a non-typical due to the abnormal points on the antlers. But it appears to be big enough for the NYS record book, whether it is recorded as a typical or non-typical.

Jake photographed this same buck with a trail camera a few weeks before season and figured out his travel habits between his bedding area and feeding areas. He found a tree to put a stand in and went there the first day even though other hunters may have stayed out of the woods due to the high winds and cold rain. We took it to a local taxidermist to be mounted and look forward to several meals from all the meat as it weighed about 200 pounds.

The Maurers live in Bergen and Jake was hunting in Bergen when he shot the buck.

 

The woodchuck in the above photo appears to be looking for greens to eat. During the late spring and summer he feasts on selective grasses and clover, not to mention choice morsels from our flowerbeds -- petunias, snapdragons, pansies to name a few. 

Once the fruit from our apple tree starts falling to the ground, as stealthy as can be, he sneaks into the yard in search of apples. Here he's checking to see if the coast is clear.  

Once he locates an apple, he sometimes takes a few bites right where he found it, gnawing away for a moment or two before looking toward the house to make sure he's still dining incognito. He then waddles quickly back to the edge of the brush in case he needs to make a quick getaway. If not disturbed, he'll finish his meal there. 

He always seems to relish the apples, and this one is no exception. He's really getting into it. Maybe he was too into it...

as it appears some of the apple went down the wrong pipe!

My earliest memory of this place dates back to the mid-fifties. I was Joshua's age when I saw my first red fox, a vixen with her young in this same locale. Because it was so close to home, only once did he have the opportunity to ask, "Are we almost there?" Once out of the car, he was like the proverbial kid in a candy store.

Everywhere he looked there was so much to see, much of it new to him.

This yellow and black argiope spider has set up its web in an ideal spot at the edge of a small stream. It had three dragonflies in its web, each encased in individual homespun "cocoons"  and enjoying the fruits of its labor. Joshua wasn't too happy about this -- he likes dragonflies!

This is the same spider, different angle. 

Walking along the stream, something has gotten Joshua's attention...

A bullfrog, floating on the water, a big green frog, doin' what he oughta! The frog just didn't plan on a curious 5-year-old walking into its domain. 

Realizing the water was well over his boots, he looked for another spot to cross...he really wanted that frog.

Fortunately for the frog, Joshua wasn't able to find a spot shallow enough to cross and he looks slightly dejected as he grudgingly admits defeat.

An uninvited grasshopper flies in to cheer up the youngster...oops! Where'd he go?

Got 'im!!!

There were plenty of sights Joshua easily understood...

And others which he did not...what was the snail doing three feet off the ground?

He learned that some critters are best left alone...

while others afford a good chase.

See what I mean?

Joshua hardly did more than glance at the butterflies...

and he paid no attention to the asters whatsoever...

All things considered, it was a great outing, both for a young man and his grandfather!