A Foiled Attempt

I was ready to head out early the morning following the discovery of an illegal hunter on the property next to ours. I intended to have a closer look at the area that I call “the island”, where I saw the hunter disappear to. This stretch of woodland juts out into a soybean field, creating a blind between our property and the river. On my hikes to reach the river, I had always walked along the last crop row near the island and around the peninsula at the north end of the stretch of trees. On the other side of the island, was more of the soybean field, and just beyond that lay the winding area of the river we call “the boot”. It was my favorite area to hike to in the winter months. If a person was not careful and familiar with the boot, it was easy to get lost or turned around. Going into the boot was easy enough but, often times, finding the way back out was confusing. One could get disoriented fairly quickly – I speak from experience.

This map may help you to envision the area I write about in my hikes from our home place to the river boot and back.

Before I made it very far through the pecan orchard, I caught a glimpse of something shining as it danced in the breeze. I already knew it was a Mylar balloon. I constantly picked up trash on our property and Mylar balloons were a common find. If the wind was out of the north, we saw a lot of trash from the city park blow into the orchard. If the wind was out of the south, we got trash from the neighbors on the other side of the alley from our immediate ten acres, and further to the west in the orchard we accumulated trash from the high school and the Native American village to the south. Trying to get to the balloon, I stopped the buggy and maneuvered through all sorts of weeds and stick-tights. As I reached to snag the balloon that was entwined in cat brier, I scared up a pair of fawns who had been bedded down nearby. They did not seem to be in a hurry, as they were likely used to me coming through the woods in the buggy.

I find Mylar Balloons tangled in brush and trees all year long. These can be a hazard to wildlife and add to environmental pollution.

I parked the buggy at the upper west end of our property and crossed the fence into the neighboring property, making my way to the island area from the south. I decided to walk just along the treeline bordering the soybean field, keeping partially hidden, and headed to the north where I had seen the hunter the evening before. I was looking for clues and kept watch for anything – a ground blind or tree stand, feed or an attractant to lure deer, discards from a kill, or maybe the hunter himself, though I hoped not. Once I reached the north end of the peninsula, I crossed over to the old river channel area to make sure no one was parked at the entry to the soybean field. The last thing I wanted was to confront a hunter. I would feel much better if I knew I was poking around alone.

I noticed this deer rub on a tree as I exited our ten-acre property. A nice-sized buck has rubbed his antlers on this slender tree.

The sun rises as I make my way to the island tree line.

I am finding a lot of coyote scat this autumn. We have seen many coyotes on the west end game cameras, and have spotted them on our immediate ten acres. I guess coyotes were prolific this year, just as the deer population was.

I found this hog scat in the row I walked in the soybean field. Apparently, all kinds of wildlife feasts on soybeans. We recently found game camera footage of about eight wild hogs coming through our property near the old river channel and the pecan orchard. I hope they don’t begin rooting around the pecan trees again, like they did a couple of months ago.

Thickets of tall weeds surround the fields, making the area almost impenetrable at times.

A male House Finch plucks seed from the head of these tall plants.

The giant six to ten-foot tall weeds make a lot of seed for wild birds. I see large numbers of cardinals in this area.

The oak trees made beautiful color this year.

This well-built nest might make a good nursery for birds next year, if it weathers the winter. The only problem might be that it is only about six feet off of the ground.

The inner sanctum of the south end of the island is an open area with felled trees in a carpet of golden leaves. It is a beautiful, quiet place.

I spotted this small clump of deer scat along a row of soybeans. It probably came from one of this year’s fawns – and it looks fresh!

Another favorite of most wildlife and especially songbirds, is the American Beauty Berry. I found this bush along the old river channel.

Coralberries can be found all over our property, and all along the river and the old river channel. It was a favorite snack of Daisy Deer.

The old river channel area is a peaceful sanctuary where all sorts of wildlife finds refuge. It is really just a stone’s throw from the main road into town and somehow the area sits low enough that no vehicle noise can be heard.  But this morning, I heard voices from the road as I climbed up on the dike. Men wearing orange vests could be seen all along the roadway. Not wanting to be spotted or draw attention to myself, I turned and made my way back towards the soybean field. Looking at my camo pants, I realized I had somehow managed to get Bidens, a needle-looking type of stick-tight, all over myself. There was no sense in picking them off now, since I would probably pick up more of these on my hike.

As I emerged from the thick brush and weeds, I saw an orange caution sign of some sort to the west. I knew that sign wasn’t there before – I had just come from that direction! I wondered if perhaps the harvest crew was getting ready to come in, but it seemed very strange to put a sign in the field and not along the driveway or along the road. Not seeing anyone around, I scurried across the field back to the peninsula and dove into the island in the first animal path clearing I could find. Animal paths were always the best trails to follow, providing a somewhat clear path to anywhere.

I carefully made my way to the opposite side of the island to get a better look at the sign. A “Workers Ahead” sign in a field  made little sense to me, so I walked further to the south, and with my binoculars I could see pickup trucks parked at the fence where I often cross into the river area called “the boot”. Shifting my attention to the south of the trucks, I counted seven men at varying distances, walking along a transmission line. Some appeared to be checking the towering structures, but others were further back towards the river. As I peered through my binoculars it suddenly dawned on me – the other fellas were spraying. They had back packs with wand sprayers, and their heads were covered by hard hats with shields at the face (maybe respirators) and heavy cloth flaps around the chin and neck. They were killing brush and trees, and I was standing right in line with the west wind! I needed to get moving to the south to keep out of the line of chemical drift.

As I emerged from the old river channel I spotted a caution sign that I was sure was not in the field just minutes before.

I wondered if this had something to do with the workers at the road?

I could not make out the logo on the truck doors from this location. I would have to walk further south to get a better angle.

Now I realize these are transmission line maintenance workers. The wind is carrying chemical directly towards me. I need to leave the area quickly!

At this point, it made no sense to go on with my investigation of the poacher. I needed to get out of harm’s way if the air was toxic. I traveled quickly to the south end of the island and veered towards our property line, finally, climbing the steep hill to the upper west end where I had parked the buggy. As I made the final steps to our property fence line, I noticed a section of grisly spine laying in an area of flattened grass. Gnawed rib bones were scattered about. The bones were greasy and somewhat fresh looking, maybe a day or two old. I could not be sure, but the vertebrae could be that of an adult deer. A coyote had probably run off with his share of a kill, and settled in these grasses to nibble away at the bones in the night.

After discovering the vertebrae, I began a slow circle of the area, hoping to find more bones or perhaps more of a carcass, but it was impossible in the tall weeds. The huge soybean field to the south  might also hold the answers to the bones, but with the crops still not harvested, it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. I glanced to the west and the fellows wearing orange were advancing again. I needed to leave. I gathered the bones in a trashed Walmart bag I had found earlier in the soybean field, and set out for home in the buggy.

What had started out as an investigation about a poacher, turned into anger about the returning coyote population. Just last week, I had seen two coyotes near our house, and one had ventured off our property, past the front gate and into the residential area to the east. FD had also witnessed two in the pasture just south of the house during the nighttime hours. I could not help but wonder about the disappearance of Emma deer. I knew there was nothing I could do, and that this was the nature of things – the circle of life. But I did not like it – not one bit.

As I came up from our canyon woodlands that day, I found Ronnie resting on the knoll near the burn pile. Even though he’s still a small yearling buck, his body is muscular and his neck is quite thick due to increased testosterone during the deer mating season. He looks quite majestic!

© 2017 Day by Day the Farm Girl Way…