Feathers and Fins....San Saba, TX

Took my 7 year old on his first "official" hunt last month.  We packed up the RV and headed for San Saba, TX where my brother-in-law works his family pecan farming business.  The property they live on sits on just over 450 acres of pecan orchards, with another 2000+ acres spread out around the local area.  The orchards are home to beautiful pecan trees, many well over 100 years old.  To me its a outdoorsman's dream.  The San Saba river runs one border of the farm offering fishing and incredible wildlife habitat (turtles, water moccasins, ducks, cat fish, bass, nutria, toads, etc).  The orchards are a haven for deer (i started taking pictures of deer but it literally got old.  Easily 40-50 deer every morning and evening), dove, turkey, squirrels and of course the nemesis of most farmers...wild hogs.

For my son and I our focus was turkey.  My brother-in-law had been seeing them frequently in one particular orchard.  We had two and a half days to stalk the property, set up some decoys and work the turkey call to coax out some gobblers.

Shot of what the orchards look like...

Our "camp" for the weekend (a little different accommodations then my Minnesota trip).

Once we had the trailer set up it was time to unpack the important gear and start walking the property.

The orchards are bordered by higher grasses and a mix of oak and pecan trees.










Beyond the tree line along one border it drops off into a ravine.  Right away i could tell this would be where we would start our evening stalking session.  This particular section met up with a section of the river which then gradually led back and opened up at the far end of the orchard.

The San Saba river...looks pristine from this angle...

But those are some muddy waters
hiding all kinds of critters...

You can see the damage the hogs do to the river bank.  My brother-in-law uses the river to irrigate so he is constantly repairing and moving his equipment from the damage the hogs and nutria cause.  Both animals are KOS at all times.














We finished off the day with a little archery practice...

...as well as some target practice with the Ruger 10-22.

Also uncovered some fresh water clams down at the river (actually i think they are classified as mussels)

Before sunrise the next morning we hit the first area where turkey had been seen regularly.  Put out some decoys and threw up a makeshift blind with a couple layers of camo netting against a pecan tree.

We hung out here working the turkey call for an hour or so after sunrise...but all was quiet.  We left the decoys in place and headed across the orchard to the ravine and began a slow quiet stalk.  Stopping every 20 yards to let out a few calls.  Still nothing but we spooked a few deer out of hiding and found the mother load of squirrels which we returned for later.

Nasty vultures always looking for a free meal...











Where the ravine eventually came back up to the orchard we found a few little goodies...a nice shed and some turkey feathers.  We would return here sunday morning and try again.

But until then it was back to the trailer to pick up our fishing gear and hit the river to chase some fins and relax.

I love photographing old farms.  So much history and character on a piece of land thats been worked for over 100 years.

Sunday morning started off with a proper breakfast...










Then it was back to the ravine before sunrise for one last chance to find the turkeys.  We sat in this spot for some time trying a variety of calls. Twice I thought I got a response but it was tough to tell with all the other birds chirping and the occasional chatter from the few surviving squirrels.

We decided to head back up to the orchard and circle around to where we found the feathers at the other end.  Once there we sat for a few and I decided to throw out a couple short clucks.  Immediately we got a response.  The loudest gobble i have ever heard.  My sons eyes went as big as silver dollars and every hair on my neck stood up.  Again i hit the call...GOBBLE GOBBLE GOBBLE came back from beyond the tree line.  This went for 10 minutes...back and forth.  I knew from where we were laying even if i called him out into the short grass of the orchard I wouldn't have a shot. So we had to move.  It seemed like an eternity before we reached a better spot with good cover of tall grass behind a pecan tree.

Hit the call again...nothing back.  Dammit! I had given us away.  Hit the call again....GOBBLE GOBBLE GOBBLE! he was CLOSE!  Between us and tree line (about 20 yards) was a barbed wire fence and some scrub brush.  I needed him to clear the fence to have a clear shot.  Suddenly we hear hen clucks 30 yards to the left!  Could this get any better?!?!?  I let rip a few more calls eliciting a perfect response from both birds each time and they were on the move.

Then it happened...I repositioned myself slightly for a better look and in doing so rose up to my knees.  And there he was eye level with me at the fence!  In a split second he was gone back into the trees.  I cursed under my breath and looked at my son who had been so quiet and still the whole time.  He said two words that almost brought me to tears..."patience, Dad".

Of course I wanted to shoot that bird and have my son's first hunt put meat on the table.  But overall I couldn't have been more happy.  We explored for 2 days, had the best father-son time a guy could ask for and in the end had the most suspenseful 30 minutes calling that gobbler in and it won't soon be forgotten.  We will be back there before the season is over and next time I will remember my 7 year old's words of wisdom...patience, Dad.

A few more random pictures...

Turley Dogwood Creek above and ML Knives custom to the left...

Thanks for coming along...God bless!

February in the Minnesota North woods

When a friend of mine invited me up to Minnesota to join him on a back country trip I jumped at the opportunity.  Within days my tickets were booked and I started packing weeks in advance.  It had been a while since I'd used much of my cold weather gear.  I preformed the usual safety checks making sure everything was in good condition.

Let me start by saying I grew up in the Cascades in Washington state.  I am no stranger to cold weather, rain and snow.  However, nothing could prepare me for the extreme cold I was in for.  I left Texas where the temps were in the 70's.  Landing in Minneapolis the temp was right around 0.  Snow on the ground...no big deal, not that cold.  The next morning we would wake and be on the road by 4am.  The temp gauge in my buddy Ryan's FJ Cruiser read -10 degrees Fahrenheit.  Ok, getting a bit colder. Our 5 hour road trip took us to the some of the furthest most Northern roads in the state.  Temperature: 22 degrees below zero.  Painfully cold for the ill prepared.  

After unpacking our gear at the trail head I learned my first lesson:  If you have a piece of gear that is less than 400 grams of Thinsulate you're in for some serious discomfort.  Luckily my more experienced friend had an extra set of liners to wear inside my gloves.

Our trip would take us North toward Canada following the frozen Sioux River.  Our goal was to scout a number of the Boundary Water lakes, hunt some small game and hopefully photograph some wolves.

My gear setup: Osprey pack and a small sled with additional gear (pack boots, extra sleeping bag, rifle, food, snow shoes, etc).  On the river we would cross country ski.  Over portages and hunting through the woods we switched to snow shoes.

The vastness of this country is tough to conceptualize.  Over a million acres of wilderness.  We started off with Ryan in the lead cutting the trail.  The snow was deep making our progress slow.  Lesson number two learned:  Pay attention to your body heat.  Shed layers to prevent sweating.  Put the layers back on when you stop.  When its negative 20 degrees out and you get cold to the bone it take a lot of calories and time to warm back up.

We continued several miles up river to our next portage.  Less then ten miles from the Canadian border.  The sun was dropping fast...so was the temperature.  (We wouldn't find out until later that night it was 35 degrees below zero...not including any wind chill factor).  We decided to stop and make camp.  It was nice being with another experienced woodsman.  Right away we picked a spot and without much discussion went to work preparing for the night.  We worked together getting a tarp set up to serve as a retreat from the wind.  Next Ryan put his Bahco saw and Wetterlings to work getting us a base for the fire and wood.  I put together tinder, kindling and cleared a fire pit.  With one strike from the fire steel we had fire.

Our shelter was fairly basic.  We draped a tarp over a fallen tree and filled in the backside with snow.  The floor would consist of my BCUSA tarp and we each used two Thermarest  pads under our bags.  With the fire setup at one time we were actually able to raise the temp up to 17 degrees under the tarp.

Next order of business was boiling snow for drinking water.  The cold sucks moisture from your body at an insane rate.  Lesson number three learned:  Dehydration in these temperatures renders a wicked headache.

The last couple hours before nightfall were spent warming by the fire, eating, discussing plans for the next morning and enjoying the pristine wilderness surrounding us.

Later in the evening Ryan spotted what he thought was a wolf about 100 yards from camp.  With our flashlights we could make out three shapes, eye shine and pointed ears.  But as we made our way toward their location they seemed to just vanish.  Clearly just the snow playing tricks on our tired eyes...or was it.  We would find out two days later.

The next morning I crawled out of my down Marmot bag, which I had slid into a larger synthetic bag which in turn was inside a USGI gore-tex bivi.  Immediately I realized the top of my down bag was frozen solid.  Lesson number four learned: At 35 below zero if you sleep with your head inside your bag the condensation created from breathing will freeze.  I would deal with this later.  I had more important chores to tend to.  Fire, coffee and the sunrise.

The night before I had put together fire preps and wrapped them in my coat so they would be ready for the morning.  A nest of grass, birch bark, jute twine and some kindling.

My MP Knives Bowie slicing

 through birch like butter.

Lesson number five learned:  Boil water, pour into Nalgene
bottle and wrap with two wool socks.  Place in your sleeping
bag overnight and in the morning you WON'T have a solid
block of ice.

Is there a better way to start the day?  I think not...

Day two:  We made the decision to stay in this spot.  We had a good camp and cutting a trail on skis through the deep snow all day to reach the lake wasn't as appealing.  We had hoped to do some ice fishing but instead we strapped on our snow shoes and headed into the woods in search of small game.  I had brought my stainless Ruger 10/22 takedown model.

Turned out due to the extreme temperatures small game was no where to be found.  The entire afternoon we got a few shots off at some Fox and Red Squirrels.  Also kicked up a nice grouse but came home empty handed.  Nonetheless our 4 mile round trip that day was spectacular.

We tracked a Lynx just off the river.  His tracks ended here where he left his mark...

Another set of tracks continued through the snow...we were not the only ones on the Lynx's trail.

A lone wolf with tracks not more then a few hours old.  Every five hundred yards he was marking his territory.  We followed him until late in the day when it was time to head back.  Again the sun dropping fast and this night temps would dip to -40 degrees Fahrenheit.

Back at camp we had a couple hours before dark. Ryan had brought an ice auger so it was time to test it out.  In just seconds he drilled through 4 to 6 inches of ice.  Up bubbled the ice cold river water.










Day three:  Pack it up and head home!  We woke up to a fresh dusting of snow that had blown in covering our bivys.  After a morning feast of bacon, oatmeal, coffee and some random carbs we packed up and headed back.  I took the lead this time.  The wind was brutal and snow had covered much of our tracks.  It was still much easier then cutting a fresh trail.

As we approached the area where two nights before we thought we spotted wolves we discovered this...

There had been wolves stalking us.  They were using the track created by our sleds to travel up and down the river.  Their tracks only left ours to head up into the woods...to a trail that ran behind our camp.  They had been watching us all along.  They truly are intelligent and incredibly elusive predators.  We tracked these three along our trail the entire way back to Ryan's car!

And every once in a while they left us a present...










Even though I didn't get to photograph any wolves I am not disappointed one bit in my trip.  I learned a lot from Ryan about surviving in such an extreme climate.  I saw some of the most beautiful land our country has to offer. And I gained a new respect for you that live your daily lives in the North woods of Minnesota...your'e a hearty breed and I tip my rabbit fur lined bomber hat to you!

Some more random pictures...thanks for looking and God bless!

And best of all....

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