A Successful Hunt

Fresh mountain air.

We awoke bright and early on Monday morning and dressed in silence. The suburban was already packed from the night before so we set out towards our public hunting grounds as quickly as possible. I drove in darkness toward the mountains as Ryley sat asleep in the seat behind me. Excitement and just a little bit of fear flooded my veins. We would be doing something today that hadn’t been done in these mountains for well on 63 years. Today we were going to hunt bear.

In 1972, three years before I was born, the black bear (Ursus americanus) was added to Maryland’s endangered species list. Prior to that listing it had been 19 years since the state allowed its last black bear hunting season in 1953.

Since those dark days, through the efforts of our Department of Natural Resources, black bear populations in Maryland have steadily increased. In 2004, 51 years since it held the last black bear season, Maryland again established a black bear hunting season in its two western most counties. After that first season in 2004 the black bear population has continued to grow and their range has expanded east. This year for the first time in 63 years, hunters were allowed the chance at taking a black bear in Maryland’s Frederick County, where I live. I was lucky enough to draw a tag.

Ryley on the lookout.

As dawn broke we were already making our way to the area where a friend had seen some bears in the previous weeks. There was a slight chill in the crisp autumn air and the only sounds we could hear were the crunching of our boots on the road. As we made our way off the road and onto the well beaten path I could hear a rustling in the leaves. Not the rustling I had expected or wanted to hear but the rustling of the wind as it picked up and began a terrible blow. We hunkered down on a ridge above a small pond in hopes that the wind would die out.

In Maryland you can hunt bear as a group, where I can designate up to two additional hunters on my tag to assist in hunting the bear. This was going to be something totally new for me and by extension for Ryley. I had never hunted bear before and only watched a few shows that even included bear hunting. In Maryland you cannot bait bear or hunt with dogs. So our options were limited.

Nothing like the smell of gunpowder in the morning.

In preparation for our next adventure I headed to the range the week before to sight in my rifle and release a little angst. The proceeding weeks had seen some friends of mine encounter a Sow and four cubs on one occasion and a boar on another. In both instances the bears did not show any fear of man. Even more concerning were two separate videos shared to Facebook during that same time frame that showed two different hunters, in tree stands, having close contact with aggressive bears. I wasn’t really sure I would be able to take Ryley out with me given the circumstances.

There was also the realization that the season opened up for only four days, smack dab in the middle of my work schedule and Ryley’s school calendar. Trying to make the best of a slowly deteriorating situation I decided we would set out in search of a black bear on opening day, Monday October 24^th. 

Someone was tired...

Things weren't quite going as planned. The wind was howling, sending our scent down the mountain, to where I had hoped to find a bear or two. The longer we waited the worse our odds were getting. So, despite the wind overhead I decided we should set out on a spot and stalk.

Not five minutes into our walk and I saw a blur of black out of the corner of my eye. I stopped mid stride and slowly turned to Ryley and whispered that I saw a bear. In the next few moments I tried to set up the rifle and bipod so that Ryley could get a good shot at the bear. Unfortunately because of his small stature and the fact that the mountain laurel was higher than he was, Ryley couldn't even see the bear. By the time I realized this fact the bear had caught wind of us and had bounded over the ridge back down the mountain.

The rest of the afternoon went about how it had went earlier in the morning. We didn't see another bear all day and as the sun began to sink in the sky so too did the realization that Ryley would't be tagging a bear this year. I turned to Ryley and told him I was so sorry that we weren't able to get him his bear. He just smiled and looked at me. He explained that he wasn't upset at all. That he had a great time being out in the woods with me even though we didn't get anything. He was super excited that we got a chance to see a bear and that the thrill of the hunt was enough for him.

As we drove off the mountain and back into the real world I took in everything that had just happened. My newly minted 10 yr old had just taught his Father a very valuable lesson. Sometimes a successful hunt isn't successful because you take an animal. Sometimes it's successful because it grounds you and reconnects you to nature and your loved ones. Sometimes a successful hunt is just to be able to hunt. Until next time keep taking your kids outdoors...

Another one bites the dust

Ryley and I with his second king salmon of the trip.

We arrived in the dead of night and pitched our tents in the darkness. Bundled up in our sleeping bags we quickly fell asleep, if only for a moment. It felt like as soon as my eyes closed my alarm went off and we were up at 4:45 am for our next fishing adventure.

A few weeks prior, I was standing around shooting the breeze at one of my hunter safety education classes. The talk quickly led to what other instructors were doing for the upcoming Fall season. I gloated that I had finally gotten myself a bear tag and listened intently as everyone else detailed their upcoming plans. As fate would have it Dan, a fellow instructor, started telling everyone how he was going salmon fishing for chinook salmon (aka king salmon) at the beginning of October. He typically went around the same time every year, taking his son and other father/son groups for some fly-fishing fun. Dan saw my eyes perk up when he mentioned the trip and before the end of the night Ryley and I had ourselves an invite and a shopping list of the gear we would need for our last-minute upcoming adventure.

As we fumbled around in the near darkness getting dressed a chill came over my spine. I’m not sure if it was because of the brisk Fall air or from the anticipation of heading to the river to go fishing. We dressed in silence and wiped the sleep from our eyes and quickly jumped in the truck to stop at the Douglaston Salmon Run (DSR) to see if any walk-in passes were available. Our wait there was long but futile; no day passes were available and we would have to check back at 7:00 am for any afternoon passes that might be available. Now wide awake and only semi hungry we headed off for breakfast and fellowship at a local hole-in-the-wall where we would plan out the attack for today.

Ever since we received the invite I read up on everything I could get my hands on in regards to salmon fishing in Pulaski, NY home of the Salmon River. I methodically went about acquiring the gear we would need to make the trip a success. We would be “rolling our own” adventure without the use of a Captain or Guide and would be doing it on a shoe-string budget. First up was to buy the aforementioned day pass to the DSR. Our original plan was to fish the DSR on Sunday and hunt public water on Saturday. But in the weeks leading up to our trip we saw report after report of good fishing. A few days before we left tackle shops were reporting 20 plus hook-ups a day. Our hopes were high but as usual they came crashing down all too quickly. The Thursday before our trip the local power company reduced the water release from the reservoir effectively lowering the cubic flow of the river to a trickle of what it was. Fish which were already in the river continued their journey up stream and for the next day the reports didn’t seem that bad. But there didn’t appear to be many fish entering the river. The run had all but stopped.

Ryley receiving a casting lesson from Dan.

Saturday brought affirmation of our fears. At the first public spot we didn’t see any fish swim by and only saw one king come to hand a little further down the river. We spot hopped and saw a few fish here and there. Most were hunkered down in pools and not moving. Ryley managed to get in some casting practice, but it wasn’t until after lunch time that we actually saw a stretch of river with fish moving through it. It was here that we parked ourselves for a few hours futilely attempting to catch a king. Ryley was a trooper though. He didn’t complain and continued to cast nearly all day in hopes of hooking up with a fish. When I asked him if he was disappointed he said that he was having so much fun just spending time in the river and on the rocks and being out there with me. We drove to a few more spots before we headed back to camp to get changed for dinner but didn’t break out our rods again until Sunday.

Ryley practicing his casting. He ended up doing a lot of that.

After a nice pizza dinner our bellies were full and our hopes renewed as the forecast that night was calling for rain; rain that would hopefully convince a few fish to move upstream to our waiting rods and nets. Our excitement was tempered by the fact that the skies opened up as soon as we pulled into our campsite and we had to make a mad dash for the safety of our tents before we got soaked. Sleep came early that night as our bodies gave out on us quickly after zipping up our tents.

Sunday was a brand new day. We slept in until 5:45 and stopped at a local gas station/mini-mart to have some breakfast and stock up on supplies for lunch on the river. By 7:00 am we were geared up and walking to our spot on the lower end of the DSR. A place Dan had fished for several years which wasn’t too deep and afford us time to see the fish coming up the river through the shallows. Excitement was in the air as we took our spots in the river and began our casting. As the morning moved on we saw a guide behind us leading his clients to fish after fish. It seemed the kings were preferring to stick to their side of the river as the ventured upstream to the safety of deeper water. But the longer we stood there casting the more we saw a fish here and there make its way past us. By this point Ryley was becoming frustrated at not being able to catch one and to add insult to injury a fish, which had been released by an angler upstream, came barreling down the river headed for the lake and ran right into Ryley’s legs. All he could do was stand there, dumbstruck by the fact that he had just been run into by the very thing he was trying to catch!

Dan netting Ryley's first salmon.

Not soon after there was hope though. It came in the form of Dan, as he held up a rod bent over to the point of breaking, calling Ryley over to fight the fish. And fight he did. Ryley managed to maneuver the fish toward Dan’s net but the fish wasn’t about to give up. It thrashed and zigged and zagged dodging Dan’s attempts at capturing it. Then with one final push the fish swam directly through Dan’s legs and broke off the leader. As quickly as it began it was over. Looking at Ryley I expected to see disappointment in his eyes but saw, instead, a smile a mile wide. The tussle with the salmon had renewed his outlook on the day and brightened his mood. Not too long afterward Ryley got his redemption and fought a king into Dan’s waiting net. Ryley was all smiles.

Ryley and his first salmon.

At that point Ryley was content with having caught a fish and just decided to relax for a bit. But the fish were still running and Dan was still fishing and next thing we knew Ryley had an even bigger fish on the end of the line headed for Dan’s net. This fish didn’t pose as much of a battle as the first fish he hooked and Dan had him in the net before too long. Ryley was beside himself at this point. After some more photos Ryley settled in a chair on the island and proceeded to do what boys do outside; find sticks and branches and hit things with them. This pretty much occupied Ryley throughout the afternoon. I would fish for a bit, go back and check on him and his smiling face and then back to the river for me. A few times I did convince Ryley to come back out and cast some more, as the fish started to head up the river on a more regular basis. 

Another shot of Ryley and his first king.

By the time the guides had all left and it was our small group of anglers waiting for our turn. I cast and cast to no avail. After a few fish went buy I heard Dan give a shout that there was a fish upriver that I could cast to with his instruction. I initially asked Ryley if he wanted to do it himself this time but he shook his head and told me it was my turn to catch a fish. After failed attempt after failed attempt I finally connected to the beautiful king and Dan scooped him right up. This fish got a quick photo shoot and was back in the water headed to the lake. At this point I already had Ryley’s two salmon that I was going to have to drag out and I knew I couldn’t handle a third.

Ryley's second fish was nearly as big as he was.

As the sun set the weather took a turn for the worse; thunder echoed in the distance and rain drops began to fall in a steady cadence. As we trudged up out of the river, fish and equipment in hand, I marveled at how things had went to bad to good to great in the matter of a few hours. We had accomplished what we set out to do, Ryley has checked another fish off his bucket list and we were headed back to camp with more fish for the table. I don’t know exactly what our next adventure will be, but I have a good idea this is the last big fishing trip of the year. I still have that bear tag that needs to be filled and I’ve just decided to add Ryley’s name to my permit. Maybe just maybe I will be writing about that next. Until then keep taking your kids outdoors… 

What it's all about, that smile and spending quality time with Ryley.