As I was driving down the curvy roads of Mansfield last winter, I noticed a large animal lying off on the shoulder of the road. He had unfortunately been hit by a car and was dead. He was longer and heavier than a fisher cat, with similar thick brown fur that was slowly turning white as the soft snow fell from the cold grey sky. I was curious about the animal, so I pulled over to get a closer look.  My boys were in the back seat with their basketball uniforms on and reminded me that we were already running late for the game, so I needed to make this observation a quick one.  I was amazed to …

A couple weeks ago, my friend called me and invited me to join him at Walden Pond in Concord for a late season fly fishing adventure. He assured me that although it was December, the big brown trout were cruising the shoreline eating very tiny insects during the unseasonably warm mornings we were having.   I wasn't seeing many deer in the woods, so I thought it would be a good idea to take a morning and try and see if I could hook one of those big browns.  On my drive out to Walden Pond, I started thinking about Henry David Thoreau and the short but fascinating life he led. He was born in …

When I was 4 years old, I met my first best friend, and his name was King.   By the time I was 10, the King and I were spending most of our time running around the woods of my youth, exploring hidden rivers and old dirt roads. He was a tough reddish brown shepherd lab mix with a lion-like mane. He loved chasing cars and chipmunks.  I remember one day he caught Freddy Eli's Ford and ended up with a giant cast on his front leg that quickly turned brown and tattered from the neighborhood dirt. Eventually, he couldn't take it anymore and the cast broke free. The break healed well enough so that …

There are two types of trees that grow in our backwoods, deciduous and coniferous.   Deciduous trees produce larger leaves that drop to the ground in autumn, whereas coniferous trees keep their thin needle-like leaves throughout the year, shedding only the oldest leaves, which are usually lower down on the tree and do not receive as much sunlight as the newer ones above. In New England, the big leafy deciduous trees draw most of our attention. During springtime, those little colorful buds start to blossom off the twigs of strong grey branches and the whole world starts singing along with the …

When the inevitable cold air of December makes its way to New England, the little brown bat takes to the hills in search of open caves to literally hang out and sleep through the cold winter. Bats belong to an order of mammals called Chiroptera that have some fascinating characteristics.   They have evolved bald skin flaps over really long fingers to soar through the night catching tiny mosquitoes with the aid of an highly advanced sonar system. They are one of the most successful groups of mammals on earth, represented by 1,240 species; which means one out of every five mammals is a bat. …

From where I sit, up high in a sturdy hemlock, the base of the tree in front of me looks like a perfect place for a hobbit to live.  The roots below are exposed and grow downward into the tannin-rich circles of deep black holes in the ground. As the sun is just about to break over this wild swamp on a chilly Thanksgiving morning, I am transported to a middle earth setting straight out of The Lord of the Rings. The sky is a light yellow and the old maples are silhouetted against the soft sky. The green moss on the roots together with the lavender colors from the millions of wet decomposing …

This week, many of the oak leaves finally decided to let go of their mother's arms and fall freely to the colorful ground, ready to accept the beginning of their decomposing stage.   With this month's warmer than usual temperatures and light and variable winds, they have held on a little longer than usual, but sooner or later during the great month of November we have to clean them up. The other day, I was lost in the sound of my gas-powered leaf blower aimlessly blowing the oak leaves and pine needles into a semi-organized pile when I noticed a woman riding by my house on her bicycle.   She …

As I quietly stepped into the pitch black woods trying to beat the big buck to the magic spot, I heard the sound of an animal crashing through the undergrowth, snapping twigs and branches along the way.  It wasn't loud enough to be a bolting deer, but I wasn't sure what it was, so I quickly made my way up my tree stand and prepared for some quiet time while I waited for the early morning light to illuminate my surroundings. Just as the night was passing the flicker of light to the new day, I heard a strange noise in the tree next to me, so I looked over and saw the large body of a raccoon …

One of my favorite Seinfeld episodes was the one where George and Jerry are pitching their new TV show to top executives and they tell them that the show is about nothing. "Nothing?" the executives ask incredulously. George leans toward them with confidence and repeats, "Nothing." When I am out in the woods hunting for whitetail bucks, I often think of George's comment because most of the time "Nothing" is happening. Sitting perfectly still in one spot for many hours waiting for a glimpse of a large, intelligent, mostly nocturnal creature seems like nothing to most people, but for me, it's an…

The rust-colored leaves are falling off our trees and the air has a little nip to it. Some rain and wet snow are in the forecast and the skies are a steely gray color. As you glance up to the clouds and wonder how it is possible that Thanksgiving is less than a month away; the cold north wind softly brushes against your face.   I can remember when I used to feel depressed when this time of year spun around, but these days, like millions of other men and women across North America, I anxiously anticipate the beginning of November and the arrival of the whitetail breeding season.  Like …

I was sitting on the plane at Logan International Airport, nervously staring at my watch, when the flight attendant gave me my last warning.   She held up her hand and mouthed the words, "He's got five minutes."   My friend Rob was late. He had invited me to join him and his dad on a pheasant hunting trip in Southwest Kansas in early December. We were going to hunt the piece of property that Rob's mother was raised on, about 2,000 acres of rolling fields full of wild pheasant and mule deer. Rob's two uncles and their dogs would be our guides.  Suddenly, I saw Rob's face coming down the aisle …

As I sit on a huge granite boulder that protrudes from a cold northern lake, the pale yellow sun begins to set behind the mountain, but not before it has illuminated the brilliant orange and red colors of the trees that surround this beautiful body of water.   It is October, and I have come north to fish for smallmouth bass and appreciate the sights and sounds of this wonderful New England setting.   I am casting a lure called a Jitterbug; a jet black torpedo- shaped thing that gurgles across the calm surface as I slowly turn my reel handle. I mesmerize myself by watching the steady rhythm …

The interesting thing about fly fishing in the saltwater is that you never know what might decide to eat your fly on any given day.   Ten years ago, I was fishing on the edge of the Cape Cod Canal near a drop off, and the stripers were busting up bait fish on a beautiful, late summer morning.  I had the whole place all to myself except for one other angler who was fishing the ocean floor for flounder.  I cast a big white fly with golden mylar sides, which was the best imitation I had of the silver side bait fish the stripers were feeding on, and immediately a fish ate the feathered morsel and…

A few years ago, I spent some time in Kansas with a good friend and his dad, hunting wild pheasant and quail in the golden fields of the Heartland.   We decided to break for lunch one day and drove the truck to the local diner for an old-fashioned burger and fries to gather some strength for the afternoon hunt. It was in that diner when I realized that I wasn't in Massachusetts anymore.   The place was full of men and women dressed in their camouflage hunting gear, eating, laughing and telling stories about their morning outdoor adventure. A young waitress approached our table and asked, "Are…

He was standing there in his waders, behind his pickup truck, using the light from the street poles at the Massachusetts Maritime Academy parking lot to guide his fly line through the eyes of his rod.  It was a cool September morning, and if history was any kind of an indicator, one of us was going to catch a nice striper in the next few hours. I quickly opened my car door, and as we shook hands and hugged each other, we both just started laughing. It had been a long while since we had fished together in the Cape Cod salt.   After we got the "How's your health and how are the wife and kids …

When I opened the email, his question was simple and straight forward. "When are we going fishing?"   I smiled as I typed a quick response back, feeling a little bit guilty that I've allowed too much time to slip by without meeting up with my good friend to spend a morning together fly fishing on the Cape for striped bass. I met Mike Dyer on a fine early summer morning in 1997. He had been fishing in the back swamp behind the community center for chain pickerel and was crawling out of the woods with a fly rod in one hand and a mahogany corn cob pipe in the other. He wore big thick rubber …

My best friend who lives in Alaska just returned home from a successful fishing adventure for big rainbow trout. We started reminiscing about a fishing trip we took together in that great state many years ago. It was hard for us to believe 35 years have passed since that memorable summer excursion. The first memory I recalled was taking off from Anchorage and noticing the bright blue color of Lake Hood as my world turned sideways in the Cessna Super Cub float plane. The plane eventually leveled off, and about 30 minutes into the flight  the pilot pointed down into the thick woods at a grizzly…

When I saw the fox standing in my neighbor’s yard in the middle of the afternoon, I knew immediately that something was wrong.  He was very thin, with a skinny reddish tail that had a distinctive white ball of fur at its end.  When healthy, the usually secretive, and mostly nocturnal, red fox would never put itself in such a vulnerable position, but this poor animal most likely has mange or distemper and is living on borrowed time. He looked at me through his swollen squinted eyes and slowly disappeared into the woods. In stark contrast to this diseased creature, a healthy red fox is one of …

I go over my checklist one more time as I stand over my bicycle: fishing rod, plastic worms, sharp hooks, needle nose pliers, pen and paper.  I am ready.  It has been a while since I pedaled into the ponds of Borderland State Park.  When I first bought my house in Sharon almost 20 years ago, I would often enter the Borderland wilderness by bicycle, holding my fishing rod across the handle bars, which interferes a little with braking, so I would use my feet to help slow me down.   I am looking forward to the challenge and the memories it should bring. As I leave my driveway, the high-pitched …

I never went to summer camp when I was a young boy. As a matter of fact, I did not know what summer camp was until I moved to this town over 20 years ago. But for the past eight weeks, I was fortunate enough to work as the nature and fishing specialist at Everwood Day Camp, located on the south shore of Lake Massapaog.  Today was my last day at Everwood; a day filled with reflection, appreciation and gratitude.  Right from the beginning of the season, which began during the last week of June, we were blessed with all kinds of wonderful wildlife to show the young campers. As the kids arrived, …