The Tradition

Today's post is in honor of those families who instil in their youngsters the tradition of the outdoor lifestyle. Whether hiking, camping, hunting, fishing, photography, or bird watching, time invested in the outdoors with family and friends is where memories are made for a lifetime. My family and in-laws were gracious by meeting me over this past Thanksgiving weekend down in the Great Smoky Mountains. I was one of the 34 million Americans on the highway late Wednesday following a long day on the project. Highway time (especially the hour wait on I-81) gives me opportunity to reflect on the many years of blessings in the field with my family. Work does not allow much time with friends and family time is my priority. The trip back north yesterday morning was pleasurable with low traffic. As the day progressed, so did the traffic. Just north of Roanoke I began reading license plates of the space shuttles in the left lane running about warp 4 on the Star Trek scale. Let's see: New York, Delaware, Maryland (by the thousands), D.C., Vermont, New Hampshire, you get the picture. No offense! I'm thankful to be working full time in your vicinity! Then, I spotted a Chevy Z-71 that just made my day. He was cruising along in the right lane like me! Red extended cab, dog box, dual exhaust, whining offroad tires, and on the back tailgate was a nice young buck. No, it wasn't one for the T.V. networks. You can be assured this man and his young son were oblivious to the rat race to their left. I was feeling a little lonesome at the time having hugged my wife and son probably for the last time until the project shuts down due to winter. I also was feeling somewhat alienated as the passers-by were giving me puzzled looks after reading my hunter orange cap hanging in the rear window. (My son's school way down south hosts an annual deer hunt fund raiser). At this very moment I recalled my Grandfather's statement to me while we were riding in his '50 Willys Jeep to the deercamp, "Sportsmen should always wave one to the other." Believe me I hit the "passing gear" and moved up along side to give that blond boy, still in his orange vest, a big "Thumbs Up"! I waved to his dad and eased on up ahead. Man, I needed that! You can bet on high fives, hugs, and congratulations for that youngster when he got home! He is the future of the sport and tradition of deer hunting in America. Anyone seeking to enjoy some great reading, research, youth events, and great photography, please look into the Quality Deer Management Association, (QDMA for your search).

The Viking

During the last two weeks of project management at Shenandoah National Park I have kept a keen eye on a certain area of Skyline Drive where a very large rub is being hit on a regular basis. I knew the buck was large by the size of the rub, see first photo. I had all but given up hope of ever seeing this deer. Then, within a hour of leaving the Park on Thanksgiving Eve, there he stood. Of about (20) photos I never got a facing shot. He absolutely would not allow it. This buck is a smart old guy. I hope Brad got a photo of him today with his high-end equipment. The old monarch was not happy that I attempted to follow him. Initially, he exhibited "piloerection" or in southern terms, all his hair stood up on end. It actually created an illusion that he was 50 pounds heavier. Then, as you see he posted his threatening posture with ears layed back. I gave him plenty of area at this point. I did not see any does during this encounter. The buck just wanted to be left alone. In over 40 years afield, I've heard deer blowing, snorting, grunting, mewing, grunt-snort-wheezing...but I've never heard the sound this buck made when he had enough of me. Turning around and looking straight in my eyes, he let loose a "black angus bull snort" and fog blew from both nostrils. You know, like in those Viking movies where the black stallion draft horses the warriors are riding would terrify the victim with snorts and nostril blasts. How ironic, I just watched "Pathfinder" last week with this very scene. (Too violent for the youngsters, use parental discretion. Great footage though.) Down in the Great Smokies for the holiday weekend. Word of advice: Check those road condition reports regularly. Nothing posted last night for US 441 across Newfound Gap. Encountered blizzard conditions, 21 degrees, and down right scary winds last night late on the way back from Gatlinburg. The Christmas lights are beautiful downtown. Take the trolley "Tour of Lights" or just make the round in the truck late after traffic lightens up. Heading back to SNP tomorrow afternoon to beat the Sunday traffic. Everyone please travel safely. Let's all count our blessings!

"In John Deere Green"

Speaking of John Deere tractors, this bad boy delivers 530 horses with 18 forward speeds through a power shift transmission. Can you imagine the monthly fuel bill running 12 hour non-stop days, week after week? In tow are 2 fixed blade scraper "pans" with 21 cubic yard capacity each. Top speed about 35 mph. Talk about movin' the mountain! I shot this photo with the cell phone on my previous project located in east central AL. The far horizon is across the Chattahoochee River which forms the border between AL & GA. The irony is prior to this deployment and about 100 miles south, I spent 27 months in a rented camper on the bank of the Chattahoochee on the Georgia side. Yes, I've been blessed to see different colored soils and different colored tractors. So far, its all been south of the Mason Dixon Line. Meeting the family late tomorrow night down in the Great Smokies. To my friend and his son looking for that perfect photo of a "muy grande" buck in Shenandoah NP, I hope you enjoy the trip down and also hope the dense fog on the mountain clears for you. To my extended family in the Deep South, I'll be home for Christmas.

Nothin' Runs Like a Deere

Believe me. This was a real "outdoor encounter", and a very expensive one! I don't recommend hunting shed antlers this way. A close friend of the family was mowing the pasture in September and called to say she had two flat tires. Yes, I said "she" and yes there were two flat tires, the right front and rear! She, name withheld to protect the innocent, enjoys driving the tractor. I enjoy my wife and her friend mowing the pasture so I can do other important things like sit in the shade and drink a Mountain Dew. Its my wife's '72 John Deere 2040. Yes, I said my "wife's" tractor. Talk about getting excited when I saw the mass of this shed antler. It measured 5 inches at the base with a 9" G-2. The tip of the main beam also punctured the tire. We took many photos and now the shed antler is placed on the wall of deer camp. Back to the tractor, I remember the first time I went to the "parts house" to pick up an oil filter. When the man brought it out I noticed the box was rather large. I told him it didn't look right. He replied, "You told me a John Deere 4020." Ahhhh...make that a 2040 please!

Rugged Country

I would like for you to meet a friend of the family. It is a '74 model 12'x60' mobile home which was purchased and placed on family property located in south Mississippi in late '80s. With the addition of a supplemental gas space heater and wooden deck it served as our hunting camp until March '97. Many family get togethers, holiday meals, and every single weekend and winter days away from work during the MS whitetail deer season were held here. Memories were made and will remain for a lifetime. My father still tells the story of how all of the water line traps were found frozen solid inside the camp one Friday evening when he arrived even though the lines had been drained the week before. He used an electric hair dryer to thaw them out. Lightning hit the kid's treehouse one very stormy night and the concussion knocked all the deer antler mounts and memorablia on the shelves on the floor. The girls awoke to no power and screamed thinking they were walking through skeleton bones. That's another story for another day! This old camp stood her ground until the family outgrew the space and a larger rendezvous was placed up the road. Simmon's Park was its next destination adjacent to Mary Walker Marina located in Gautier, Mississippi on the Gulf of Mexico. Salt water fishing became its mission and served well for much needed hot showers and cool air conditioning following long days of fishing around offshore oil rigs south of Gulf Islands National Seashore's barrier islands. Fish fries, crawfish boils, and listening to the summer rains on the tin roof became the tradition for eleven years. They don't make mobile homes like they did back in the '70s. The proof is in the following. I researched the National Hurricane Center's archives this a.m. to determine just how many tropical storms and hurricanes "the fishcamp" endured. There were many days following a major hurricane that I became resolved with the fact that the camp probably did not make it and a month would pass before Emergency Mgt would allow residents back in the area to survey the damage. Amazingly, the camp survived five named hurricanes and five tropical storms until I decided to bring it home following Hurricane Katrina in August, 2005. Again, I expected to find nothing more than the frame. Days after Katrina passed the NOAA website published aerial photos of Mary Walker Marina and to my astonishment I saw the camp surrounded by a storm tide heavy debris line. The knoll of ground was just high enough. The hurricane tide pushed water to historical heights mid-way up on the frame just literal inches below the subflooring. This old camp was supporting a large oak tree resting on the edge of her tin roof. Others were laying on the ground as if One had guided the pathway of the fall just missing a devastating blow. It was at this moment I decided to move our "old faithful" to the farm. The photo above shows her final destination. In the back corner of our property she rests now. Thanks to my brother and nephews for making the drive and building a nice large deck within (1) day. Our son's birthday parties, Easter egg hunts, and of course hunting the Alabama rut in late January keeps the family together in "Narraburra", a name earned through years of service. The ancient culture of the Aborigenes in Australia use this name to describe their "Rugged Country".

Nostalgia

Avoiding the wildlife theme today for a reason. This same Saturday in 1970 was the beginning for me, being included in a perpetual Sullivan tradition having been carried forward through literal generations. Today being the first ever missed "opening day" of the whitetail deer season in the Deep South, all for a higher priority. In this case to pursue the completion of Recovery Act Road Rehab Phase I in SNP. Although actual work is not allowed during the weekends, I wouldn't want to obscure the views of the Alleghenies on the horizon to the west with heavy equipment and those stop/slow signs we all know. At least my brother sent the modern "text" that he harvested a nice one on the "gasline" stand early this a.m. before the rain set in. No, today I reminisce of the weekends of this past summer with my family, my wife and son who are missed much on this overcast afternoon. The photo is one of the rare moments in our lives when you drop everything, even my fishing rod and grab the cell phone for a quick shot of the secondary rainbow before it disappeared. I've only seen this phenomenon one other occassion in Sevier Co., TN in '99. Ol' River is the location with Ono Island in the background. Only (5) minutes inland through Perdido Pass at Orange Beach, AL, connecting the Gulf of Mexico. Although this area is probably the most populated during peak season, renowned Cayman Is. marine biologist and author Guy Harvey, PhD states that due to the concerted efforts of the local conservation clubs and the charter fishing industry, it remains a premier fishing destination in the U.S. I can personally attest to this as truth! Near the opposite shore is a shallow sand bar where we set anchor and wade in knee depth clear water to view abundant inshore marine life including hermit crabs, stingrays, schools of mullet, speckled trout, and the occasional jack cravelle racing in as an efficient predator before disappearing back into darker water on the shelf of the bar. The beach has its cold days as winds seem unrelenting during the winter months. It will be late spring before we revisit this area known in the tourism industry as the "Emerald Coast".

Do Deer Copy People?

I've arrived at the conclusion that the over abundant population of whitetail deer at SNP get bored. Late October brought thousands of visitors from Florida to Maine seeking the majesty of colors from the overlooks during peak season. During the last few weeks I've also noted bucks using the same overlook day after day. Shazaam! Do you think these guys are viewing the tourists from the rock outcroppings above "The Line" and giving the tourism thing a a shot themselves? Following yesterday's encounter with this young guy I'm now convinced! Unfortunately for this buck, he has a case of fibromatosis. The raised areas in his coat are wart-like growths. What you cannot see which stunned me for a second was the fibroma in the area of the tear duct on the right eye. It protruded upward toward the pupil and surely was obscurring his vision. For reasons unknown to biologists, young bucks are more susceptable more than does. It is also unknown how the condition is contracted. Fibromatosis is caused by a virus and will eventually lead to immunity to reoccuring infections. My opinion is that it is nothing more than a nuisance. I've never harvested a buck with the condition but understand the concern of other hunters who have. It is known that fibromatosis does not infect humans and poses no threat by consuming venison. This guy became a little nervous when I walked slowly within (20) feet. Another note: I noticed his demeanor changed from concerned to totally relaxed when I knelted below his eye level, in this case his (1) eye. He resumed browsing on the grass and looking at Luray, VA in the Shenandoah Valley below.

Calm Before the Storm

Yesterday morning Big Meadows held more deer than usual at daybreak. Even with heavy fog encountered midway up the mountain on Tanner's Ridge Road, familiar forms of browsing does were dispersed throughout the area once used by Native Americans for tribal meetings. Working my way north to Upper Hawksbill, I glimpsed this image to the east. Backing up to an opening through the trees I stepped out of the truck to gaze at this phenomenon I've never seen before. I'm learning much from following the blogs of the "PA Posse" about photography. This shot was made with my work camera, a 10.1 meg CyberShot at full zoom. Nothing special. Just something to upload shots of problems on the project to email to the contracting officer in a matter of seconds. I'm sure Stephanie Abrams would describe this as some "stratoshorizontalcoralinterspersion". Whatever...it was indeed a soul searching moment again in my experience on the mountain at SNP. I'll go as far to say that it was the calm before the storm. Conditions on Skyline Dr. this a.m. were thunder, lightning, and hail. Back home in the Deep South I would search for a large tree to park the truck under. Not so in SNP. Park staff Wilderness Weekend educators state the trees are actually a climax community. Must be from the short growing season. In any event the beautiful head of the mountain reared-up today. Nothing to do but watch marble size ice bounce on the truck hood. I couldn't help but wonder how deer react to hailstorms. I've sat through a few in my favorite shooting house but have never seen deer during the fiasco. Surely that sixth sense puts them in heavy cover to hunker down. I am reminded of scripture, Romans 1;20 "For since the creation of the world His invisible attributes are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even His eternal power and Godhead, so that they are without excuse." Viewing this yesterday begs the question: How can anyone deny the existence of the Creator?

Bear Rain

October 16 - Conditions at Skyland, elevation 3680, were fog with zero visibility and forecast for snow after midnight with accumulation of one inch. Working my way through the project was very difficult at best, especially for a "flatlander" from south Alabama. The idea of making a few photos seemed like a great way to wait for the weather to break. To gain the best perspective of "designated wilderness" I decided to pass the typical paved overlooks. The roadway shoulder at the foot of a section of guardrail of Skyline Drive was large enough to accomodate my truck. Walking some 30 yards, I paused for a shots of golden leaves against very heavy fog. Rustling in the leaves above my head caught my attention and a thought passed through my mind that it must be one of the thousands of squirrels one can see on any day in Shenandoah. To my surprise, and I must say dismay, was a 250 pound black bear perched on a 6" limb about 12 feet above my head. It seemed startled as I was at that moment and began the typical blow/snort to warn one that he is too close, and perhaps, in imminent danger. In reality, I heard drops of saliva hitting the leaves around my feet. While giving the bruin plenty of width, I mouth called "rodent in distress" which gave me a second to take a photo. The bear made a slow decent down the trunk of the tree. I continued the rat squeals. It eventually made his way upwind and surprisingly did not beat a fast retreat when he caught my scent. My calls gave me opportunity for several more photos. This close encounter reminded me of a trip to the Great Smokeys in my youth. Following a horseback trail ride, I asked an ol' timer who was chewing plug tobacco in a rocking chair at the stables if he had seen any bears lately. He replied, "Yep. That bar, he wuz s'close he wuz a'blowin' slobbers all over me!" Yea, right! Now I know exactly what he meant! A "bar" can make rain.

You Just Never Know

You just never know what a day will bring forth. Last October 13 I drove in early to the Dundo Overlook at Shenandoah National Park for a project kick-off meeting with the contractor and his subs. Watching the sun illuminate the brilliant colors of fall on an adjacent mountain was absolutely a humbling experience. Conditions were blustery and in the low 40s. Bundled up with the truck window rolled down, movement in my side mirror caught my eye. From the steep slope below the overlook, two rather wooly girls with backpacks emerged from heavy brush. Upon a second look, I convinced myself that indeed, one of the girls was carrying a nude and very ripped (Misssissippi jargon) GI Joe doll. The doll was wearing a Ronald McDonald mask. (Yep, this is a true story. I had not been on the mountain on this deployment that long and I couldn't even make this up if I tried.) I decided it would be safer to evacuate the truck and prepare to hightail it down the road on foot as I would not have time to find the keys in my pocket. Anyway, they appreared as though they needed the truck worse at that moment than I did. As I stepped away from the doll yielding leader, she spoke in somewhat broken caveman pseudo-American, probably actually German, "Tok pic?" She handed a 10.1 meg CyberShot digital cam. "Uhmmm.......o.k.", I replied. They stepped to the edge of the overlook and smiled as I nervously spoke the typical Western, "Cheeeez!" The leader replied, "Thonk", and I watched as they placed "Ronald Mc-GI" on a rock for his photo. Both gals waved goodbye and within a few moments they disappeared down the mountain. I thought my friends will never believe this...Oh yea. As "Lil Rocky" was posing for his picture I asked, "Is his name Wilson???" Just a puzzled look from the visitors...Immediately my conscious said Gomer would not even have asked that!