outdoors

Sitting on her clutch of eggs, a mother goose is doing her best to keep a low profile while keeping a wary eye out for predators -- and photographers.

If only for a short time, this wetland tract is where "momma" and her brood will call home.

Three of the five hatchlings. 

Three of the five youngsters are barely visible, yet mom & dad manage to stay fore and aft of the entire brood.

Young and vulnerable, the goslings are totally dependant on their parents for protection. And with numerous predators found throughout the various types of habitat in the wetland, there is much to protect these fuzzy youngsters from.

When Oak Orchard Creek spills its banks, such as it did this spring, northern pike find their way into the marshes and deeper pools, such as the one above. Toothy northerns have, on occasion, been known to take young waterfowl.

Aquatic predators, like mink, make their home here, not to mention danger from above in the form of hawks and owls. 

Flooded timber can be enchanting, yet full of peril for young waterfowl.

This is a likely place to encounter snapping turtles or a marauding raccoon.

For these goslings, everything must seem larger than life...and perhaps a bit overwhelming at times. Maybe that's the reason for this youngster's perplexed look.

This youngster seems to be making sure all siblings are present and accounted for!

While there are numerous predators that live in and around the wetlands, there are neighbors that bring no cause for alarm...such as these painted turtles.

Or a cardinal in the cottonwood.

Even an eastern swallowtail.

With all the distractions, sometimes mom or dad needs to crack the whip! Here she's seen hissing, as if to say, "get back in line."

All things considered, at the end of the day the best place for a gosling is directly below the protection of mom's down feathers.

Earlier today, reader Kyle Couchman posted a comment about seeing a man chase a group of boys who were fishing from the banks of the Tonawanda Creek, near the Walnut Street footbridge.

The man, according to Couchman, claimed he owned the bit of creek bank the boys were on.

But according to the County's GIS parcel map, just about every inch of the Tonawanda Creek is public property.

Its path through the city is owned by Batavia and includes a few feet of creek bank (and in some places, such as near the footbridge, it includes slightly more).

Of course, that doesn't mean you can trespass on private property to get to the banks, but if you are on the banks, you're on public property.

This evening, for my bike ride, I thought I'd go to the spot Kyle described and guess who I found fishing there? That's Kyle above, rod in hand, and bragging that he'd already snagged a couple of nice fish. But nobody had tried chasing him off, either.

This Great Blue Heron was standing motionless when Claudia began taking his picture....but the master stalker of the shallows didn't remain still for long.

Moments later, the heron appeared to have spotted prey and began a slow and deliberate stalk.

Skulking through the shallows, the heron is intently focused on its quarry.

We obviously couldn't see what the heron was hunting. They feed mainly on small fish but their diet has been known to include, among others things, frogs, crayfish, small mammals, birds and snakes.

The Great Blue Heron's bill is not only large but sharp as well and a dangerous weapon -- the heron's thrust is lightening quick.  

With its back to us, the heron displays its promiment black crest.

A few people seemed to find this afternoon a good time to fish the Tonawanda Creek.

Above is Kyle Kendall, 7, and a student at John Kennedy School, who had just caught a northern pike when I happened by, which his father, Dave, displays for him.

For the first time this spring, Billie and I were able to sit on our back deck, and of course, I had my camera with me, at the ready, when this squirrel stopped by for a visit.

While there has always been a good number of gray squirrels nearby, this is one of the few fox squirrels I recall seeing near our home. That bushy tail may be one of the reasons behind their name.

About one and a half times the size of a gray, the fox squirrel is North America's largest. Here it's feasting on last year's box elder seeds.

Like the gray and red squirrel, the fox squirrel's color phase may vary from region to region.

Adding to its ample girth.

Smaller than both the fox and gray, the red squirrel, above, seems to be the feistiest of the three, particulary when defending its territory.

Here it's easy to see where the red got its name.   

The entire time I watched, this red seemed preoccupied in one of walnut trees growing along the north border of our property.

Here again, the red tends to a walnut tree. It seemed to concentrate on forks in the tree, perhaps enhancing future buds. Whatever, the red squirrels have established themselves in the area around the six walnut trees that are clustered into a small area. The gray squirrels, meanwhile, have been relegated to the hickory and oak trees back near the creek.

This pileated woodpecker gave me ample opportunity to try out our new camera. For half an hour or more it made two large cavities in a young cottonwood, one of seven within a stone's throw of the house. Whenever they visit they tend to ignore the huge cottonwood as well as the walnut, hickory, white ash and maple trees, instead focusing their attention on the young cottonwoods -- smoother bark, easier to penetrate, is my guess.

As you can tell from the photo sequence, the pileated's rountine was to pound away for a bit before tilting its head back as if to inspect its work, sometimes probing around inside the fresh excavation or even repositioning itself before renewing its efforts.

When it was time to leave it flew across our property, over the tops of our neighbor's woods, performing its trademark "swoop and dip" on the fly.

The late Bob Fowler, pictured above, was an avid fisherman all his life and there once was a time when he enjoyed the milieu of the duck hunter. There were also family vacations with his wife, Bonnie, and their sons, Teal and Brian, where they traveled to an island off the coast of the Carolinas.

There Bob fished and, come low tide, took the boys clamming. While Bob enjoyed many aspects of the outdoors, his real passion was on the river, whether it be canoeing or kayaking according to his longtime river-running partner, Pep Johnson.

It was in the early '70s when Pep and Bob Fowler first met. At the time their boys were both playing hockey for the Batavia Ramparts.

"It was brought to my attention that he (Fowler) did a lot of whitewater paddling," Pep said. "That was something I had always wanted to try."

No sooner did Pep Johnson make an inquiry, when Bob Fowler offered an immediate invitation, saying, "Let's do it."  And Pep Johnson was about to catch whitewater fever. Thus began a partnership that lasted more than three decades and took the pair to some of the wildest rivers in North America.

"When I first met Bob, he had been canoeing and kayaking for a time," recalled Pep. "We made our first canoes, they were one-man, solo canoes, whitewater canoes."

Pep is pictured above on Pennsylvania's Youghiogheny River.

As might be expected, during their early years, paddling together much of their canoeing was done close to home, with one of their first trips taking place on the Adirondack's Moose River, portions of which are class III & IV.

In whitewater terminology, rivers -- or various stretches thereof -- are rated anywhere from class I & II (mild) all the way class V & VI (wild -- and dangerous).

"We studied maps a lot," Pep said.

But river conditions can change, and that meant being vigilant while on the water.

"Whenever we came to a set of rapids we'd take out (the map) and study it, deciding how to paddle it or not attempt it at all," Pep said. "The latter decision was often determined by an obvious class V or VI set of rapids."

In the above photo, the pair look over some frothy whitewater on the Missinaibi River in northern Ontario.  

Their pursuit of wilderness paddling took them as far northest as Quebec's Gaspe' Peninsula, across northern Ontario, south to North Carolina and west to Utah.There were numerous stops in between with trips in New York, Pennsylvania, Maine and West Virginia.

The duration of their time on the rivers ranged from overnighters to 10 days. If the list of states and provinces seems extensive, the number of rivers was even more so -- and the degree of difficulty at times might be termed extreme.

"What was probably one of our scariest and hairiest rides was on the Youghiogheny River" Pep recalled.

On that occasion, the water levels were safe when he and Bob Fowler set out, but heavy rains far upstream the previous evening brought the river up to a dangerously high level. Finding a place to take out was not easy.

"The high water left no place to beach the canoes," Pep said. "Only dense, heavy brush was visible along the shore."

And it was obviously not a good place to attempt landing a canoe in swift water. Some hard work -- and rigorous paddling and scrambling -- finally got them safely ashore.

Another frightening moment occurred here in New York.

"Bob had always told me, if I spill, hold onto the canoe and don't let go of my paddle," said Pep. "Well, we entered a mile and a half stretch of the Indian River that was solid class III & IV the entire way.

"I got dumped and held onto the canoe and paddle, struggling to make it to shore. There was a huge boulder the size of a small house in the middle of the river and the current was taking me straight toward it."

That would be one time when Pep wisely bucked tradition.

"I let go of the canoe, and was then able to make it to shore," he continued. "When I looked back, I saw the canoe hit the boulder and then (it) pulled under."

It was several moments before the canoe popped back up to the surface on the downstream side of the boulder.

"There's no guarantee I would have done the same," Pep said.

Envisioning that last scenario prompted me to ask if he and Bob were "adrenaline junkies."

"At times," he began, "but more than that, it was the wilderness element. There were times we simply stared in wonderment at what we were seeing -- it was so beautiful."

Too, there was the mystique of the river.

"You never know what you might see around the next bend," he added, saying it wasn't unusual to spot moose and other forms of wildlife

The oversized tepee in the photo below provided a night's lodging prior to the start of a canoe trip on Quebec's Bonaventure river.

That's Batavian Bob Stevens on the left standing with Bob Fowler. For a number of years, Stevens was part of the wilderness paddling team. In the photo below, Bob Rodgers is seated in front of, left to right, Bob Stevens, Bob Fowler and Pep Johnson.

While their main objective was wilderness paddling, they did fish on occasion. Perhaps what may have been their biggest catch over the years was taken purely by accident.

"One evening after having set up camp, Bob Fowler caught three walleyes, all in the 16-inch range. He put them on a stringer and attached it to his canoe," said Pep, the idea being to keep them fresh for the following morning's breakfast.

"Well, the next morning, Bob walked down to the water and lifted the stringer."

Or at least he tried to.

"When he went to raise the fish from the water, something on the other end pulled back -- hard," Pep continued. "Again, he lifted and again something pulled back real hard. At this point, I heard him yell, 'Pep! Pep! Get down here.'"

Pep arrived in time to see his friend hoisting a northern pike, and a hefty specimen it was. The big fish had swallowed one of the walleyes up to its victim's gills and was then unable to swallow it or regurgitate it. Pep explained that Bob lifted the big fish clear of the water and pulled it right into the canoe. The pike landed in the bottom of the canoe with a thud and the walleye was dislodged. The pike was then released.

  Seems to be Pep Johnson's turn with the kitchen duties.

Two Bobs -- Fowler astern with Stevens manning the bow.

Bob Fowler on a stretch of flat water with Bob Stevens in the distance. 

Asked to reflect back on his thoughts of Bob Fowler, Pep never hesitated, not having to search for words.

"There's a bond that develops between guys that do these things for so many years," Fowler said. "When Bob was on the river he was always smiling and laughing. But more than that, if something were to happen, you knew that Bob had your back."

As a case in point, Pep related an incident that took place on West Virginia's New River. There is a bridge that spans the New River gorge, a bridge well noted for its use by bungee jumpers (that's how deep and steep the gorge is). They were on the river not far from that bridge when Pep was injured.

"Foot entrapment led to my knee being pinned between two rocks, resulting in torn ligaments and shattered cartilage in my knee." Pep said. "After that, I was unable to walk out. Bob carried both canoes out, then he lifted me onto his back and carried me out from the bottom of the river gorge."

The incident proved to be a minor deterrent. Shortly after Pep healed, they were once again making plans to run another river. 

The river runners' version of "on the road again."

It's been three years since Bob Fowler's passing and, for his river companions, things haven't been quite the same. Some, like Pep Johnson, are left with decades of whitewater memories, from sub-arctic terrain to the brown, desert backdrop and rock formations along Utah's San Juan River.

And while the wilderness waterways provided Bob Fowler and Pep Johnson scenic and peaceful settings, the rivers themselves were often turbulent and brawling -- just what seasoned river-runners hope for.     

Brady Smith arrived here from Australia in mid-August, long before cold temperatures and snow enveloped the region. So it wasn't surprising to hear him say, "I love it here." Asked how he's handling the sudden climate change, he stated, "I'm slowly getting used to it."

Brady was recruited from the land down under by GCC soccer coach Ken Gavin. Once the soccer season ended, he made his way to the college pool where he not only swims for the Cougars, he also works as a lifeguard. (Brady is one of five international students on coach Mike Kroll's swim team.)

"I love swimming," he said. "I was a swimmer for my school back home."  A phys-ed major aspiring to be an athletic trainer, Brady hails from the city of Brisbane in Queensland, located in Eastern Australia. Shortly after meeting Brady, I asked him about the toxic and deadly creatures that inhabit the Australian continent. I had read of and seen on the nature channel that of the 10 deadliest snakes in the world, nine are found on the Australian mainland. The other being a sea snake found in the waters off the Australian coast. I wanted to know, were they really as numerous and deadly as I'd heard - or was it a case of sensationalism and TV hype.

"They're for real," he said.

He then mentioned a few species of poisonous snakes with which he's familiar; the King brown, the taipan and the tiger snake. The brown and its subspecies have been known to inhabit populated areas, making it particularly dangerous. And while deadly reptiles garner most of the attention, spiders are very high on Brady's list of critters to be avoided, most notably the red-black and funnel web spiders.

"I don't like spiders," he said with emphasis. "My parents were having a barbecue and one of my mom's friends was bitten by a red-black spider."

(The Australian red-black is closely related to our black widow -- black with a red marking on the abdomen and it often cannibalizes the male after mating. They are also highly venomous.)

"She got pretty sick," he said of spider bite victim. "She had to be hospitalized -- but she made it." 

Asked about his outdoor pursuits back home, Brady said he did some fishing and snorkeling, the latter including a bit of spearfishing. But surfing is his first love.

"I didn't think I'd miss surfing so much. I surfed every day back home." This prompted the obvious question, "Have you had any encounters with sharks?" The look on his face seemed to say, "I'm glad you asked."

"I was with two buddies," he began, "we were surfing off Mujimba Beach. There's an island that's a 25 or 30 minute paddle out to sea. It's called Old Woman Island. About 20 minutes into the paddle, a big fish appeared maybe 15 meters away. It was a tiger shark. We knew it was a tiger because of the spots on its dorsal fin."

Thankfully, the shark in this instance was a bit curious and nothing more -- unlike his next shark encounter.

"A month later, off that same beach, four of us were just sitting on our boards about 50 or 60 meters offshore when a bull shark swam below us. I saw the shadow and told my buddies, "Swim in! Swim in!.....There's only one reason you say "swim in," so no one asked - they just paddled in."

We talked briefly about a few of the other poisonous creatures in and around Brady's homeland. One was the blue-ringed octopus, about the size of a golf ball, very pretty to look at and highly venomous to the touch. And the stone fish, so named because they are so perfectly camouflaged they look like a rock on the bottom. As a result, barefoot bathers sometimes step on them, receiving a strong dose of poison from the spines of their dorsal fin.

It was only last Thursday -- Friday in Australia -- when Brady's father found a 6 or 7 foot carpet python curled up on the patio. In relating this incident, Brady didn't even raise an eyebrow -- nothing out of the ordinary.

"Dad is big on fishing. He likes to fish off the beach. He's caught some big sharks that way," said Brady. "He likes fishing off the beach at Fraser Island - that's where the purebred dingoes (wild dogs) live. It's the only place in the world where the purebred dingoes reproduce. Anyway, while at Fraser Island dad once brought a tourist bus full of Asians to a stop so they could watch him fight a bronze whaler." (I later learned a bronze whaler is known in other parts of the world as a Copper or Narrow-toothed shark)

With the semester drawing to a close, Brady will be heading back home for a reunion with his family; parents Ken and Shelley Smith and younger brothers Lewis and Darcy. Thankfully for Brady, summer down under is just getting under way and he will no doubt find time to do some surfing.

These snow-covered spruce trees are nice to look at, and for me, they certainly help to bring on the Christmas spirit - and probably the end of my hunting season. While there are yet several days remaining in the deer season, it almost seems like opening day was a long time ago....and not a snowflake in sight. And that was only two weeks ago.

6:30 a.m. November 20th, hunkered down in a beech woods.

an overhead view a few minutes later....and just a bit more light.

It wasn't that long of a wait.

As the sun began to climb I couldn't help thinking how much I enjoyed carving my initials into the smooth gray bark of beech trees when I was a young man.....in those early years I probably wouldn't have allowed a good buck to sneak in undetected like I did on this day. I missed the deer, hitting an ironwood tree instead.

This is my nephew Regan. A polite young fellow, I believe he's stifling a laugh regarding his uncle's marksmanship.

The Bartz brothers and D.J. plot a strategy for the p.m. hunt. 

Most of the people in this article - myself excluded - are still hunting when time permits. And they probably will until the season ends. Mine already has. Time to think Christmas!

Submitted by Cheryl Chaddock:

Brad Chaddock of Oakfield bagged his very own monster 9pt. buck last Saturday morning with his bow. Brad is a dedicated bow hunter during the season. He and his dad, Rob Chaddock, of Elba, spend many hours throughout the year practicing archery and it has paid off. He has had very successful hunts in the past, but this is his biggest to date. Congratulations to Brad.

The above photo of the Tonawanda was taken about two weeks ago. While the foliage was still evident, there have been significant changes since.

Facing south from the creek bank at the rear of our place.

It's still early and a good morning to drive into southern Genesee and hopefully get a few pics of the Little Tonawanda and the surrounding countryside.

This is the Little T and 55 years ago wading barefoot and catching crayfish below that little riffle was great sport!

This redtail is eyeing me warily.

The falls on the Little T where it flows through Linden.

Though conifers - yet obviously not an evergreen - these larch stand out in contrast against the wooded hills.

The sun was climbing and so was the temperature...it was time to go home and do a little pike fishing behind the house.

Sadie is a 5-year-old chocolate lab and not only a well-trained retriever, but a prime example of the classic relationship between gunner and gun dog. During the past couple autumns, I've been privileged to spend a few mornings with Sadie and her owner, Doug Harloff. Each outing has been invigorating, being able witness firsthand a good wingshot and his loyal sidekick at work.

A short wait in the dark was followed by a pre-sunrise calm.

Low light as Doug & Sadie both wait for the morning's first flight.

Decoys are in place.

The onset of a retrieve.

The return trip - mission accomplished.

Time for a little TLC.

Checking the northwestern sky - no ducks sneaking in the backdoor.

Doug explains to Sadie that the ducks have stopped flying.

Look at Sadie's facial expression: "Whaddya mean we're leaving?"

Happily for Sadie, on the way home there was a bit of pheasant action. She's equally good at locating ringnecks. 

Having spent time with Doug and Sadie both in the cattails and afield, I come away with the impression these two are not simply an owner and his dog - they're good friends.  

Biking, canoeing, kayaking, cross-country skiing and mountaineering. To one extent or another, all the Marchese brothers -- Dave, Tom, Russ and Bob -- partook of these activities. It was 1995, after brother Dave invited his three siblings on a backpacking trip, when they first had a go at hiking up a mountain. 

"We hiked into Johns Brook Valley and camped at Bushnell Falls," said Bob Marchese. "The next day we climbed Mount Haystack in the rain and fog. At times you couldn't see your hand in front of your face. Mt. Haystack (elev. 4960 ft.) was the first high peak for Russ, Tom and me."

Left to right are Tom, Bob, Russ and Dave.

Despite the weather on their first climb back in 1995, the Marchese brothers began frequenting the high peaks when time permitted.

"Nearly 10 years passed before it entered our minds to climb the "trailess" peaks," said Bob, "and go for the '46.'"

Bob informed me there are basically two types of trails on the "46er" mountains -- those maintained with marked trails and those that are "trailess." The latter term at times implies nothing less than a pure bushwhack. The above photo shows the group preparing to scale a cleft in the rocky mountainside.

This photo was taken while descending Whiteface Mountain In the center of the pic and off in the distance is Mount Esther. Weeks later, upon reaching the summit of Esther, the Marchese brothers would have fulfilled their quest, thereby attaining membership in the AKD 46er's. 

Fifteen years after climbing Mt. Haystack, Dave, Tom, Russ and Bob Marchese stand atop Mt. Esther......46er's at last.

"It was a combination of jubilation and relief," said Bob. At their feet, atop Mt. Esther, is a plaque set in the rock by the Adirondack forty-sixers. In a bit of irony, just before the above and below photos were taken, friend and frequent hiking companion Eric Wohlers called their attention to the time -- the Marchese brothers had become 46er's at exactly 4:46 pm.

The plaque was set in place in honor of Esther McComb who in 1839, at the age of 15,  attempted to climb Whiteface Mountain from the north. In the process she became lost and thus made the first recorded ascent of the mountain so named for her.  

That's Eric Wohlers behind the Marchese brothers. Though he had climbed Mt. Esther a month earlier, he joined his friends for their celebratory climb.  

Bob Marchese, pictured above, has climbed many a high peak with his own family. Said Bob,  "My wife, Terri, and I climbed some peaks with our kids when they were little. When they were 2 and 3 years old we put them in kiddie carriers, backpacks made to carry small children. Today my daughter Olivia wants to be a "46er."  

Bob with Olivia. An aspiring 46er, Olivia accompanied her dad on numerous high peak climbs this summer.

Only 13 years old, and already an even dozen high peaks to her credit, Olivia seems certain to keep the family tradition alive -- not only sharing in the common bond of those who have climbed the Adirondack high peaks, but helping promote safe hiking and the preservation of the wilderness for future generations. And to Bob, Russ, Tom and Dave...congratulations!

Early Saturday morning, Alexis Aratari surprised herself by killing her first buck -- and then surprised herself further when she discovered that it was a 10-point deer.

"It was really shocking," she says. "My heart was going about a mile a minute."

The feat, which is impressive for anyone of any age, was even more incredible in Alexis's case due to the fact that she has only been hunting for two years.

"It's really rare to have girl hunters, especially teenagers, get that big of a buck," the 16-year-old explains. "So it was really lucky that my first buck was a 10-pointer. It was beginner's luck."

Alexis, who goes out hunting every day during the season, says that she spotted the buck at around 8:30 Saturday morning. When she shot at it with her bow, it dropped right away. Her father, Mike Aratari, who was in a tree on the other side of the field, had seen the buck earlier and hoped that she would get it.

"We both thought it was just a six- or eight-pointer," Alexis said. "When he heard the shot, he yelled for me to stay up in the tree and he looked at it and told me it was a 10-pointer. I couldn't believe it."

"Now he says he has to try to top it," she laughs. "He's been hunting for 20 years, and he's only gotten two 10-pointers."

Hunting is clearly in Alexis's blood. Along with her father, her uncle and aunt also enjoy the pastime.

"All my family is really proud," she says. "We sent them all pictures, and my uncle in Florida has been telling everyone about it."

So what exactly will become of the massive buck?

"We're sending it to get mounted, and we're going to put it up on the wall next to my dad's 10-pointer," she says with a grin.