Peregrine Falcons Rebounding

Peregrine falcons may be the fastest bird in the world, but restoration of this Maine Endangered Species is a marathon, not a sprint.

1960s: Peregrine falcons disappeared due to the pesticide DDT

1984-1997: 144 young peregrines reintroduced in Maine

1987: First reestablished nesting pair located in Maine

2002: Maine population reached 15 pairs

2022: 21 of 32 pairs that were observed this year successfully produced 53 chicks 

Despite the positive trend since reintroduction, the peregrine population is small and continues to benefit from monitoring and management.

Peregrine falcons likely live closer to you than you realize…. Peregrines nest on cliffs, such as near popular hiking trails on Mt. Kineo in the Moosehead Region and the Precipice in Acadia National Park, as well as in urban sites including old mills and bridges throughout Maine.

Learn about the work done in 2022 and future plans in the annual Maine Peregrine Falcon Program Report.

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Cellular game camera photos courtesy of Justin Sweitzer, MDOT

Cellular game camera photos courtesy of Justin Sweitzer, MDOT

Colonel Jim

The freezing rain and sleet pelted the window next to my desk in the Tucker Ridge clubhouse. It was the morning of March 9, 2022 and with the temperature hovering around 30 degrees, damp and raw. The wood stove ticked away as I sat at my desk, ironically fleshing out the details for my May column in the journal. My phone’s screen lit up and buzzed across my desk. I picked it up and saw a message from a regular hunting client. Stephen and his Father Jim Rowan had just hunted with us for black bear six months ago and there was some talk about making their next trip to Tucker Ridge a three generation trip, including the grandkids this time – Stephen and Jim always came as a father and son hunt and it appeared that Stephen’s boys were ready to join. I opened the message and froze in disbelief. After recovering from my initial shock I reread the message three times – ‘John, our family wanted you to know that my father passed away Friday night, peacefully and at home.’ I was crushed.

It is quite common in the outfitting business to become great friends with clients over the years. Breaking bread together, sharing experiences and being involved in their hunting achievements all serve to strengthen bonds. Some clients even transcend that, becoming what feels a lot like family. Jim and I discovered many unique bonds over the years. We shared a brotherhood as US Army veterans, he a retired Colonel and I as an NCO with eight years in uniform. We both served in the field artillery and shared the same weapon systems background. While I was attending basic and advanced training at the Field Artillery Training Center at Ft Sill, Oklahoma, Stephen was attending high school there as his dad Jim was currently stationed at the home of the artillery. Jim and his wife Nora lived in Pennsylvania when he made his first trip to Tucker Ridge and fell in love with Maine; much the same as my wife Moira and I before we made the permanent move north to found Tucker Ridge Outdoors. Jim and I also shared all the same philosophies when it came to hunting, ethics and sportsmanship.

This month is the one year anniversary of Jim’s passing and I recently spoke with Stephen, mostly to reminisce about their adventures here. Here are a few of the most memorable Jim moments.

Sneaky Pete Strikes Again

During a deer hunt in November 2019, I put Jim in a tree stand in the area our legendary buck Sneaky Pete liked to hang out. At camp one evening, we were discussing activity amongst the hunters and someone asked Jim what he saw or heard. Jim mentioned he heard another hunter grunting at him from a nearby stand and ignored it. I explained to Jim that the other stand was 600 yards away to the north and there was no way he heard that fella blowing a grunt call! The table erupted with laughter as Jim raised his eyebrows and added, ‘Oh, and I passed on two bears. Too small for me but they’ll be great bears for one of you guys next year.’ Jaws dropped and hilarity ensued.

Bad Ammo

After the 20 hour drive to Tucker Ridge, Jim and Stephen arrived for a bear hunt and retrieved their rifles to verify zero on the range. Jim was up first with his 30-06. His first round tumbled in the dirt at the base of the target backstop. The second round produced the same result. Jim was flummoxed. He figured there was something off from travelling and decided to use his .270 rifle instead. When he uncased the .270 he noticed the box of rounds in the case were .30-06. A quick inspection of the ammunition next to the 30-06 rifle on the bench cleared things up. Jim had mixed the ammunition and rifles. Stephen told me later he looked over at me behind them and saw me laughing and shaking my head. I never said anything, not wanting to embarrass Jim. After loading the correct ammo, and putting two tight shots on the target, all Jim heard was me saying, ‘Well I’m glad it was the ammo and not the shooter.’ Stephen still cracks up about it to this day.

Stump Killer

It was getting late into the week during a fall bear hunt and some clients were getting antsy, not seeing many bears during a tough week of weather. Jim had a great bear coming into his site, but always just after dark. He was so close he could feel it. As last light was falling and minutes of shooting light to go, a rifle boomed across the ridge. A message came over the group chat – ‘Who shot?!’ After a few moments Jim replied it was him. The bear was on the ground, still and right behind the bait barrel. He was getting down. A few minutes later came another message over the chat – ‘I shot a stump.’ When I got him back to camp he told us that it sure looked like a bear and his eyes must have been playing tricks on him – he saw it move! He took a lot of ribbing that night, but in typical Jim style received it good-naturedly, laughing the whole time. At supper, one hunter looked over to Jim and deadpanned, ‘Say Jim, have you decided how you are going to mount it? Going for 2×4 shoulder mount or going all in on a 2×12 full mount?’

Nora expressed to me that Jim had been on many hunts in both Europe and the United States and that while all were good, she believed that his best were with his son at Tucker Ridge. Well Nora, I can say this with the utmost confidence – every single hunter that shared time in camp with Jim over the years will remember him fondly. His dedication was evident as he ran circles around the younger bucks, always the first one ready and out the door and the last one back to camp. Jim brought out the best in other clients and was a true inspiration for younger hunters to emulate. While I may never put him in a tree stand again, Colonel Jim will live forever at Tucker Ridge as his exploits are retold around the table by not only me, but by the many hunters’ lives he touched.

The Bucket List Bear

“Range is hot!” I bellowed and instructed the hunter in front of me to load and make ready. The big Dutchman settled into a solid isosceles shooting stance, nose over toes as he brought the massive revolver up. We were standing 40 yards from the target board with the rest of the hunters in camp another 20 yards behind us at the rifle bench. There was plenty of chin wagging and eyebrow raising going on back there along with a few sniggers. Nobody wanted to miss this.

When I first booked Patrick he told me he wanted to hunt bear with a handgun. I was amenable, but let him know that he had to be prepared to demonstrate proficiency, just like our bow hunters are required to do, when he arrived from Zurich. A native of The Netherlands now residing in Switzerland, he was an avid hunter and firearms enthusiast, travelling to hunt all over the globe. His opportunities to hunt with his Magnum Research BFR revolver were limited however, due to firearm restrictions in many of the countries he hunts in. Taking a bear in the United States with his pistol was on the top of his hunting bucket list. I wanted to help him achieve it.

Two .500 S&W Magnum cartridges went into the cylinder and I cleared Patrick to shoot. The recoil sent the seventeen and a half inch revolver vertical as the report boomed across the ridge like a round of artillery. I was impressed with Patrick’s control and shooting fundamentals, so I had him take the second shot before checking the target to ensure grouping accuracy. Pistol cleared and verified I called the range cold and we all headed down to the target. Two half-inch holes were perfectly stacked on top of the bullseye. The backslapping and hooting continued all the way to the lodge as the hunters congratulated Patrick on some fine shooting. His handgun bear hunt was on.

I selected a very specific bait site for my handgunner. It was a double stand sixteen feet in the air, tucked up against a bull pine tree with some natural concealment on two sides. The flip up shooting rail would act as a bench rest for the iron-sighted revolver and wrapped in camouflage burlap, provide additional concealment. This site would provide the best opportunity for an open sight gun. It boasted plenty of light right up to last legal shooting time and clear shooting lanes.

After a quiet Monday and Tuesday with no action to speak of, I settled the big man with his big revolver into the stand Wednesday and reiterated the ranged landmarks for him to estimate distances. I topped off the bait barrel and rang the dinner bell by thumping the drum. I looked up to my hunter in the stand and got the thumbs up. Returning it, I moved out. Five and a half hours later my phone buzzed with an incoming text.

“Hit it from the front. Fell and ran away. Snap shot. Hearing now.”  Patrick was following my pre-hunt instructions to a tee. What he was telling me was that he marked the spot where he hit the bear, how the bear reacted and if it ran. Also, he took a mental snap shot of where the bear was when he fired, which direction it ran and that he was currently listening for the bear to crash. “Sit still, keep listening. On the way” I replied. After I arrived, we moved down to where the bear was hit, next to the bait barrel to look for blood. We had little success. Taking cues from Patrick, we used his mental snap shot to follow the likely escape route; flagging our way into the thick cedar. Roughly 100 yards later I made the announcement to the handgunner who was 50 yards to my right – “dead bear!”

A few of the other hunters in camp arrived to help with the retrieval and as we passed the stand Patrick let his big magnum roar from, I paused and pointed down the shooting lane to the barrel and where the bear was hit. They marveled at the distance and their jaws dropped further when I told them the range finder verified distance – 50 yards! Once again, the Dutchman received a round of applause and congratulations back at camp. He made his dream come true, with an amazing display of marksmanship. As I prepared to head back up to the clubhouse for the evening, Patrick was thanking me profusely. I congratulated him and thanked him as well – I had my own bucket list item riding on this hunt. Thanks to Patrick, Tucker Ridge had its very first handgun bear in stunning fashion.

Hunter’s Remorse

Some call it a weakness. Some deny it and some never admit it. I embrace it. I’m talking about the phenomena known as hunter’s remorse. From the youngest of hunters to the most experienced sportsman, many have experienced it. I certainly have and still do. I believe it is one of the signs of a true hunter, separating us from merely killing. Here are a couple of my most memorable hunter remorse moments.

Tyler was a young hunter but an accomplished one. By his early 20’s he had successfully taken plenty of nice whitetail. Hailing from Pennsylvania, the heart of whitetail country, deer hunting was practically a religion for him and his family. When he arrived for his first ever bear hunt here at Tucker Ridge, I was satisfied in his ability and wanted to ensure he had the best opportunity to take his first bear with his recently passed granddad’s rifle. On his second day of the hunt, he took his 380 pound boar with that rifle and I was elated to be a part of it. It was an emotional high for all of us. As we prepared the bear for some photos and field dressing, Tyler had another emotional moment, this one markedly different. I assumed he was thinking of his grandfather, his mentor and longtime hunting partner. I was half right. After a few moments I spoke with him and he revealed he was experiencing hunter’s remorse. I had the feeling he was ashamed of it. I assured him that in no uncertain terms should he feel that way; taking a life is a visceral experience, for some traumatic. His emotion is the sign of a true sportsman and a testament to his granddad’s stewardship of his early hunting career.

On the opening morning of an October bull moose hunt, I had a hunting party of three in the truck, creeping down a rocky, washed out road enroute to my first hunting spot. It was dark as a pocket that morning and the glow of the dimmed dashboard lights added to the quiet anticipation of the coming hunt. I could tell my client Scott was a little on edge. We had discussed my plan, actions upon contact with a moose and general hunting experiences the night before. He and his family were avid upland bird hunters and while not averse to big game hunting, it was simply not as prevalent where they resided. He confessed quite candidly that he wasn’t sure he would even be able to pull the trigger if and when the time came. He was committed to the hunt, just uncertain of his reaction when the moment of truth was revealed. I reassured him that it was his hunt, his choice and I would respect any decision he made. We had some early contact with a bull that wouldn’t come out of a stream bottom and some cow sightings later on. I could see Scott loosening up and after no success the first day, I was feeling confident for the next day; the temperature was set to plummet with clear skies in the morning.

Day two we moved further along the road following that stream where a clearing exposed to the rising sun lay. As first light emerged, the frost twinkling on grasses and slash, we crept to the end of the road with the sunny clearing. The cow saw us first, rising from her bed and trotting off. I got Scott and his father-in-law (the sub-permittee) in position and glassed the edge of the cut. The bull moose popped up and after he took a step giving us the broadside shot I told Scott to take him. It was the moment of truth. He fired and the bull went down. A follow up shot from his father-in-law kept it down. Standing over the bull in preparation for retrieval, I noticed Scott was having some serious mixed emotions. I took him to the side and asked if he was okay. He noted what a magnificent animal it was and the roller coaster of emotions he was feeling at the moment – classic hunter’s remorse one of them.

As the adrenaline ebbed, I could see my client come to grips with his own reservations, his ability to cope with hunter’s remorse and the tumult of emotion involved in killing a big game animal. Emotions I believe we all should feel after the shot.

Teachable Moments

It was a foggy and damp morning, and the second day of the Maine October cow moose hunt. I was in the back of my truck, standing in the bed with my binoculars around my neck and blowing cow calls across the cut to my north. My clients, a 13-year old permittee and his father the subpermittee were in front of me, off to my left scanning the northwest corner. We had just cut multiple cow tracks on our way back out from a different spot and the tracks couldn’t be any fresher, heading north into a stand of spruce in the corner of the big clearing and imprinted over top of my tire tread laid down only an hour ago.

As I made a second round of mouth calls, I spied movement in the wood line to my right. A moose popped out of the tree line in the northeast corner of the cut and moved into the opening as if on a string, nearly 150 yards away. I quickly got the hunters attention and got them repositioned as I glassed the moose to make sure it was a cow. I hunkered down in the bed of the truck and glanced over to my shooter to make sure he was in position, ready and steady. The grandfather of the permittee was along for the hunt and watching from behind our position. Binoculars up and watching the cow, I told my hunters to give her a second to present a better shot. She was facing us head on, looking for the cow she heard moments before. A few seconds later, the moose turned broadside and I gave the young man the go sign. “Take her!” I whispered and the 7mm-08 barked. The cow went down hard behind a big pine log. Dad never got a shot off. I kept glassing the spot and saw the moose lift its head for a moment as it rolled onto its back and out of sight. The big cow was down.

As the adrenaline left my system and my clients were rejoicing, smiles and handshakes all around, I climbed down out the truck bed and started gathering my field dressing gear from inside the rear of my crew cab. The clients had already started on their way down to the moose in preparation of dispatching if necessary, tagging the cow and retrieval. After a few moments, I heard commotion down the road where the grandfather had the chase truck parked, 75 yards or so behind me and perpendicular to where the moose went down in the cut. As I leaned back out of the truck for the source of the voices calling me, I saw moose moving at a clip halfway up the cut. “Is that the same cow?” the hunting party was calling out to me. They were standing near the chase truck and hadn’t gone on to the moose after all. Knowing we had multiple cows in the area, I asked if they could see the cow that went down as they were a lot closer and had a better sightline than I did; I simply couldn’t take the risk of having the clients shoot another cow. As I watched the moose near the edge of the cut, making her grand escape, the hunting party still could not verify that the moose that went down was still on the ground. Five minutes later the confusion was cleared up. It was the same cow and she was long gone.

Mistakes happen and a lot were made that morning. How we react to mistakes and learn from them are what I call teachable moments. The hunting party should have proceeded directly to the moose to ensure it was expired. The young hunter’s rifle should have been properly zeroed so that the point of impact is reliable when the crosshairs are placed on target; I later learned it was zeroed high ‘for the possibility of a long shot.’ Incorrect assumptions were made – the moose was down for good and that the experienced moose hunters knew that a follow up/dispatch shot is more than likely needed. I let my clients down that morning. I should have ensured they went directly to the downed moose. I should have never taken eyes off of the situation and I should have never assumed prior experience would ensure proper procedures and actions, no matter how obvious and planned beforehand. At the end of the day, that is all my responsibility and my biggest teachable moment in my guiding career to date.

Fair Chase Bears

When most folks think of November in Maine the season that comes to mind is firearms season for deer. These four weeks are what many of us wait for all year long. Sure, spring gobbler is fun and open water fishing is a fine way to spend late spring and early summer, all the while waiting for autumn and hunting season to begin. Bear over bait leads the way into hunting season and after a fast and furious four weeks, we transition into the moose seasons seamlessly. And while deer season really gets going in October for archers, I don’t see that much activity in my neck of the north woods. The habitat and terrain just isn’t as suitable for bow hunting as it is down state. Now don’t get me wrong, I enjoy all seasons throughout the year but for me, November is the star of the show. Big game hunting is my passion and what more can you ask for than to pursue big Maine whitetails and black bear at the same time?

Bear hunting in November is highly under rated and I believe a lot of hunters are missing out on a great opportunity. Some hunters do not even realize that black bear are still open through firearm season for deer. Maine residents can hunt bear without a bear permit under their regular firearm hunting license throughout deer firearm season; Nonresidents only need their hunting license and the $40 late season November bear permit. During this season, no bait is allowed and hounding season is also closed – it is strictly a fair chase hunt. And that is what makes it such an exciting and challenging endeavor.

 It is important to note that very few bears are taken during the fair chase season; bait hunting and hounding make up the lion’s share of harvested bears in Maine. That doesn’t mean it cannot be done however. If you treat the fair chase bear season as you do deer season, you’ll see that it isn’t very different. Locating good habitat and known areas that hold bear is where to start, just as you would while hunting deer. Natural food sources are key, as bait stations have dried up and bear still out and roaming for winter fat stores will be seeking anything with nutritional value to gorge on. Grown over apple orchards that provide cover and a plethora of fallen apples are a gold mine for both deer and bear in November. Harvested crop fields, especially corn, that transition to wooded edges near water are also hot spots for late season bears.

Another reason I love late season bear hunting is the quality of the bears. By now, most sows and their cubs have sought their dens thereby removing them from the off chance of taking a nursing sow by accident. Most bears you’ll encounter this time of year are big boars and after a season of consuming bait and feasting in preparation for winter, they are likely to be at their heaviest weight of the year. Many times over the years while tracking whitetail after a fresh snowfall, I have cut bear tracks in the powder – big tracks. It is a misnomer that bears scare away deer, just like the myth that where you see moose you will not see deer. I have bear, deer, moose, bobcat, coyote and foxes on camera in the same habitat and even at the same stand sites.

When you get ready to set your tree stand this month, take a little extra time to consider the habitat and the possibility of a dual species hunt. When you show up at the game tagging station with a fair chase bear, you’ll be the talk of the town.

Perseverance Pays Off

During the 2017 fall bear season, I had a client from Pennsylvania that had yet to shoot his first Maine black bear after several trips with different outfitters. He was an experienced hunter and knew exactly what he wanted in terms of the bear he would look to take. I set him up on a virgin bait I had specifically scouted and maintained, just for his hunt. I had several nice bears coming in and one of them was a giant boar that I knew would fulfill this clients wishes.

During his second afternoon on stand, the bear appeared out of nowhere at the bait site. My client said he looked up and the bear was just there, he never heard or saw it come in. It was the big boar. The client waited until the bear dropped down on all fours and turned, presenting the textbook broadside shot. His Remington 7600 pump-action .30-06 rifle boomed across the ridge and the bear sprinted out of sight into thick cover down ridge.

We searched for hours and could not find the bear. I retraced the route the bear took and examined the shot location several times. After three hours and multiple trips up and down the ridge in the dark, I called a stop to the search. We resumed the effort the next morning, allowing a better look at where the bear was hit. After several hours of continued grid searching, I called the search off. I had all the evidence I needed – there wasn’t a drop of blood nor a shred of hair at the suspected hit site. Furthermore, we couldn’t locate even the faintest sign of a blood trail. It’s well known that entry and exit wounds tend to plug up on a hit bear due to heavy fat reserves and that bears will roll in dirt and mud in attempt to clot the wound, but I found not a single shred of evidence that the client hit that bear. After covering 500 yards in all directions, I knew for certain what happened – classic boar fever.

I explained my findings to the client, and while he accepted what I had to say, he was still uncertain. Back at camp he questioned the rifle, the scope, rings and base security and finally the cartridge itself – the .30-06 I recommended he use. He thought that maybe he hit the bear and that perhaps the shot was a through and through, not creating a devastating, mortal wound. I assured him it was not the case and that he simply missed – it happens.

After a day to compose himself and regain some confidence, I put the client back on stand at a different location. Within two hours, a bear approached the bait from the clients left, moving slowly but steadily through a mixed fir, spruce and beech stand. As the client brought the rifle up, his eyes caught movement down ridge to his right. The bear nearing the bait froze and stared down ridge. Seconds later a bigger boar charged up the ridge, chasing the first bear off of the bait site. This time the client didn’t hesitate. As soon as the boar stopped at the bait site, the hunter let the .30-06 bark for the second time in three days. The bear hunched up and turned down ridge at a clip. We found the bear not 35 yards from where the client hit him. With his fever broken, the knock down power of the .30-06 Springfield and the large wound channel it creates, my client had his first Maine black bear – and a heck of a story to go with it.

The Camp Name Tradition

At long last, September is finally here. With the long wait behind us and the regular schedule of hunting seasons kicking off, bear camp acts as the lead-off hitter. Bear, deer and moose camps all have similarities and differences but all share one thing in common – the time-honored tradition of camp-naming. This hunting camp rite is one of the rituals that define the very essence of what a traditional camp is all about – camaraderie. And it is also something I look forward to every year. I honestly can’t wait to see and hear how these sports will come together, some from several hundreds of miles away from each other, as they mesh into one unified camp with a shared purpose.

Some camp nick names can be earned by a great feat or achievement. During the 2019 moose hunt, my client Frank earned the name ‘One-Shot’ after putting his bull on the ground with a single shot through 100 yards of grown-in skidder trail. Some are bestowed upon unlucky sports by their fellow camp mates after an embarrassing action, either in the woods or at camp. I’ll bet you know how ‘Cub Cadet’ earned his knick name during the 2020 bear hunt; his camp mates were not impressed with his decision making and boy did that name stick like glue the rest of the week!

During one deer camp, a young fella that couldn’t keep his eyes off of his phone, no matter where he was in the cabin, tripped and tumbled down the steps from the second floor of the cabin. The stair case is closed in so he just bounced off the walls on his way down, coming to rest in a pile on the landing. The rest of us were sitting at the table, shooting the bull and were ready to jump to the rescue when the young man called out “I’m good! Just missed a step. I was looking at my phone.” After the laughter died down, the young hunter from Pennsylvania sheepishly accepted his camp name ‘Stumbles’ from his step-dad ‘Pennsyltucky’.

Sometimes, I assign the camp name. ‘Speed Trap’ is a chief of police in Iowa, ‘Yeah-Yeah’ is from upstate New York and always begins, and ends, his sentences with that very phrase. A bow hunter from Wisconsin bore an uncanny resemblance to an iconic Hanna-Barbera cartoon character from the late 70’s – ‘Captain Caveman’. The irony was lost on him however, not yet born when the cartoon was on television. ‘Monk’ earned his camp name for his seeming inability to utter more than one or two word phrases at a time.

Fellow hunters get involved too. ‘Mr. Jingles’ for having loose shells in his pocket while scouting for deer sign with another hunter. ‘Headband’ for wearing an outrageous piece of head gear to keep his longish, unruly hair out of his face around camp, and ‘Dakota’ simply because nothing else stuck and he was from North Dakota. A deer hunter from Brooklyn, NY could have passed as the twin of one of the cast on the hit television show Jersey Shore. His camp mates mercilessly dubbed him ‘Paulie’ – the accent didn’t help his cause.

In case you are wondering, even the guide gets a camp name from time to time. During one deer camp ‘Big Show’ and ‘Toby’, for their likeness to a WWE professional wrestler and country star Toby Keith respectively, dubbed me ‘Redneck Ninja’. Apparently my ability to ‘move quickly and silently’ in the woods and to ‘disappear even when wearing orange’ made an impression on them. If there is one rule to camp names, it is this – you can’t pick your own name. You will earn it, for better or for worse, when the time comes.

The Sneaky Boar

It was a brisk Wednesday morning with four days to go in the bear trapping season as I pulled off the gravel access road and parked my truck on the edge of a potato field. I eased out of the cab and flipped on the small LED light clipped to the bill of my cap, the sun just warming the horizon with hues of pink and red peeking through the tree line to the east. I grabbed my rifle, a sixteen-inch barreled Stag Arms AR-15 chambered in .300 AAC Blackout and clicked on the illuminated reticle of the Vortex Strike Eagle scope perched on the upper receiver. I pocketed a fresh SD card for the game camera and seated a magazine into the well of my rifle. This was a ritual I had performed every morning since the close of the bear over bait hunting season weeks ago and once again I set out across the road and down the trail that weaved down ridge between the field and the cedar swamp below.

This bear got the best of two different clients during the hunting season. Doug, the first hunter to take position in the ground blind during week two of the hunt had a few encounters just after last light, hearing the bear move through but unable to take a shot. Already dark as a pocket with legal shooting time minutes past, all he could do was text me to let me know I’d be coming in to a hot site when I came to retrieve him. He was just 40 yards away from the big bruin, listening to him wrestle the bait barrel around. The boar showed up on trail camera photos at that site nearly daily but Doug never had a daylight shot at that bear.

I decided to let that site cool off, kept it baited but left it unused for week three of the season figuring to give the bear visiting it some breathing room and a sense of security. By the time Herb showed up for his hunt in week 4, that site had been back to daylight activity, with several bears around, including the sneaky boar. Herb’s first day in the blind produced no results, as did the second. On the third day around 5 p.m., Herb caught the black flash moving through the thick wood line to his right headed towards the bait. Judging it was a good-sized bear, he readied himself for the boar to break the tree line into the bait site. It never did. The black ghost slipped away and did not return in daylight.

As the bait season ended I knew I had a dilemma on my hands – an educated bear. I knew that next year, even bigger and more dominant, that boar could push off other bears in the area and be content to only visit that site at night. It was right then that I decided to put a bracelet on that sneaky boar. I bedded a WCS Pro-12 snare thrower at the site. True to his reputation, the boar fouled and misfired that snare multiple times over the next few weeks. The WCS is similar to a foot hold trap, with a pan that triggers the snare, launching it upwards around the leg. After sensing my frustration viewing the trail cam photos and seeing how the bear approached and found many ways to foul the trap, my wife Moira got in on the action and we devised a new set. With strings of marshmallows tied high in the trap’s anchor tree, I bedded the trap to affect a rear leg catch as the bear stood to grab for his treat. With time running out we were going for broke.

I made the final turn on the trail to the trap site just as dawn fully broke. I could see the barrel on its side and out of position from where I had left it, just 50 yards away. And suddenly, a big flash of black as the bear stood from behind the knoll and started pacing around, huffing and growling, his rear leg securely cinched in the snare. My heart was pumping like an oil rig and I could hear the blood rushing through my head as I moved closer for a clean shot. As I knelt down and brought the rifle up, the bear lurched forward and took the thirty caliber round high. A quick follow-up put the boar down. I bowed my head, took a deep breath and made the call back to camp – “We did it!”

Big Bait, Big Fish

As temperatures in Maine’s smallmouth bass waters climb into the 60 degree range, bass begin the spawning ritual. First, the males will begin building spawning beds. Using their caudal fins, they will sweep away larger stones and debris, building a fairly smooth gravel ‘bed’. Soon after the larger females, swollen with eggs, will move to the beds and make their deposit. After their task is complete, the males move back in and stand guard over the spawning site, protecting it from predator fish looking for an easy meal. This timeline of events usually occurs from late May into the first couple of weeks of June and is widely known for fast-fishing action.

Throwing most any type of lure or bait at spawning beds during the guarding phase will usually generate a lot of strikes. Mostly, it will be the smaller males that come after your bait, protecting the nesting site from intruders. A lot of these strikes will be defensive and meant to keep invaders away. When these males are hooked, a close inspection of the caudal fin will usually show wear from bed-building and scales on the body may show signs of fighting with predators such as chain pickerel. These fish are fun to catch and put up a heck of a fight, but if it’s the big fish you are gunning for the old adage still holds true – big bait equals big fish.

In my past experience, the two best times of the bass season to hook big fish is when females are in the hyper feeding stage as they produce eggs in preparation of the spawn and later as the females have deposited their eggs and moved off the shallows into deeper water, foraging for bait fish to replenish after the spawning process.

During the pre-spawn in late May and early June, these fish are hungry and big top-water baits produce big results for me as the large females move closer to the shallows. My favorites include the Rebel Pop’R, Arbogast Jitterbug, and the Heddon Torpedo. The one thing they all have in common is when they are properly fished, they create a unique sound and vibration pattern that trigger aggressive strikes.

Post-spawn is when you’ll find the big fish heading back into deeper water. I concentrate on big boulders and rock fields submerged in about 12 to 20 feet of water. Drop-offs and ledges are also key spots I like to target. These are areas bait fish congregate and once again, large smallmouth weary from the spawn and intense fishing pressure like to hide out and lay up in the shade. Rapala diving crank baits and Texas rigged swim baits are my go to this time of the season – usually late June through July. During this period, a stretch of cooler days with some overcast skies will prompt me to throw the Jitterbug or Torpedo around big boulder formations in places where just the top of large rocks are visible but extend down into the water column.

I find that for new anglers and kids alike, bass fishing during the height of the spawn is a fun and exciting experience. Bass are notorious for chasing anything during this phase and catching a lot of average size fish can be expected. But if you are ready to move into a new stage of your fishing career and want to start consistently catching big bass, remember the saying that has stood the test of time – big bait, big fish!