In observation of our state holiday, the "Opener", I decided to go
out and do a little pshishing this weekend. And so, this evening I
took a walk along one of the neighbors wooded hunting trails behind
our farm.
The psishing was great! I had excellent looks at a number of FOY
warblers:
American Redstart
Chestnut-sided
Ovenbird
Black and White
Golden-winged
Connecticut
The woods were full of the rich melody of Rose-breasted Grosbeaks. A
Ruffed Grouse added it's drumming for back beat and in the wetland to
the west the resident Sandhills provided their peculiar percussion. I
heard several Black-throated Green Warblers high in the tree tops and
a Hermit Thrush skulked and complained near a slash pile overrun with
Raspberry.
And then,
A Cautionary Tail...
I left the trail to explore a certain poplar stand were I have found
morels in years past. After ten minuets of slow methodical searching,
executed at something approaching a crouch, my attention was riveted
away from the ground by a shadow of movement through the trees. I
froze, then slowly came to my feet to meet the gaze of a canine,
about 100 feet away through the underbrush. I was being watched. My
bins confirmed I was looking at a Coyote, not a Grey Wolf. COOL! I
often hear the local pack, but I had never seen them. Then, as I was
thinking to myself...pack, they hunt in groups...I heard some twigs
snap from another location. The bins came down and I started scanning
the woods in all directions. Four, maybe five... on three sides of me
that I could see. My guess is they were cruising for newborns. The
deer are dropping fawns. The Coyotes were either curious or dead
serious. The made no move to depart when I became vertical and human
looking. Then I got serious. I stood tall, bark-shouted in a most
aggressive manner and took several defiant steps towards the first
animal. I'm sure they were perplexed, but they were also persistent.
They barely backed off, mostly just shifting positions around the
perimeter. I waved my stick, repeated the previous performance, and
shook a sapling. The individuals from the rear and right flank swung
right to join the front member giving me a clear shot at gaining the
trail. They formed a loose group about 50 yards away from me, but
still gave no indication that they were fearful of my presence. I
moved slowly through the trees, downed timber and saplings as largely
and defiantly as could. I stopped several times to turn and survey my
back and rattle my stick, though I knew they could easily and
silently pull an invisible end-run if they chose to. I made every
effort to appear large, strong and unafraid. I made the trail, and
home without further incident.
The morel of the story..
when hunting the elusive mushroom, take care you are not picked-off
first!
Kelly Larson
The Bagley Farm -Clearwater
The Bemidji Loft -Beltrami
Minnesota
Eschew Obfuscation!
The middle of Nowhere is Somewhere!
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