Sheds

      April is a long month when you live in the North Woods. Snow still blankets much of the ground and everywhere the ground is bare the soil is soggy. Fishing really doesn’t get going for another month. A cold north wind has been blowing snow squalls through almost hourly for several days now. About the only thing to do is try and stay in shape while waiting for better weather. And that means lots of walking for us and the dogs.

      For the last couple of weeks I’ve been teaching Maggie, our younger German wirehair, to hunt shed antlers. The lessons are simple. I ask her to sit outside while I walk around the other side of the house to hide an antler somewhere in the woods. When I walk back to her I say, “find the antler”. She loves it and dashes off to search.

      Today, like a lot of afternoons, we took a little walk up on a favorite hill. The dogs ran about, as they always do, and by golly Maggie came out of the woods with her first “shed”. Needless to say, she was quite proud and so were we.

April

The stream is very cold.

      A week ago south facing hillsides were almost bare ground, while north facing slopes looked like a pinto with irregular brown patches between vast areas of white. Now, more than a week into the month, Mother Nature has pulled a cruel pranks and dumped eight or ten inches of snow everywhere.

Maggie wondering where the
snow came from.

      But the woodcock are back and grouse are drumming, so it must be spring. Our dogs enjoyed the brief freedom of bare ground and hunted up birds. I am sure in a couple of days the ground will be bare again.

      The streams are swollen from the melted winter snow and soon will rise still more as the new snow melts. Water temperatures are very low and it will be a month before we see much insect activity on the streams. Thoughts of fly fishing, so far, revolve around the tying of flies.

      Spring in northern New England certainly teaches patience.

Woolly buggers galore.

April

Snow is  still  on the banks.

     Snow still makes blotches the hills and the streams rumble. Water is everywhere. The roads are muddy. Everywhere is muddy. Outside it is barely over forty degrees. This is April in the North Country.

Catkins on alders.

     During the day the grouse drum, a sound more felt than heard. Today rain spit from the sky as water rushed downhill. Grass is still brown, but the poplars and elms are in bloom. A fire in the woodstove makes our house a cozy home.

     The night is still. There is no madness, like on the evening news. Rushing water is the only sound. Twilight lasts long as the sky changes from shades of gray to blues and eventually a star speckled sheet of black.

     Spring is awakening, a slow process up here at Camp Grouse. 

We love the long quiet evenings.

April at Camp Grouse

       The snow finally left about a week ago, it had doggedly lingered in the shadows of the softwood trees. If you poke around on the north side of the hills, there probably is still some in the shadows.

       In the woods the ground is very soft. None of the spring flowers are up and streams are high, making crossings difficult. The juncos reappeared for a few days, then left. A mourning dove arrived early, before the snow had gone, and took advantage of lawn exposed by the snowplow, but he is gone now too. We are waiting on the warblers, but every day birds show up that we haven’t seen all winter.

       Fishing will start soon, as the water warms and the streams drop. Most of the ponds still have ice on them, but it will soon disappear.

       Woodcock came back weeks ago and probably are nesting by now. Every day the grouse are drumming in the woods, one down below the house and another up above. The weather plays a big part in the breeding success, so we watch with fingers crossed.

       April is anticipation.