26, September 2024 Stand Up

The sky was opaque, not blue nor cloudy; one of those days that would maybe pass without due consideration but for the fact Jackie’s son, John, and I were on an adventure. The neighbors had given us permission to cross their land, east of Mikinaak Creek, to access our land there that we wanted to visit, that without a bridge, is an inconvenient long hard hike. So it was that John was driving my toy-factory 4-wheeler and I was driving my pickup across their mile-long stubble field. 

 

Flocks of migrating Canadian geese were spread out east to west across the huge field. Hundreds took to the air at sight of our vehicles. Some remained standing, looking attentive, as others settled back down just a short distance away, to see what threat we imposed passing by, their tremulous ‘hronking’ calls reverberating all around us in pandemonium. 

 Heading north-northwesterly, through the flat land of chest-high grass and standing timber toward a section-line post that we usually approach on foot from the north, John drove slowly ahead of me trying to find a trail that I could follow with the pickup. I would stop where I saw him last, then wait for him to come back; we’d visit about what was ahead, then I’d follow the tracks he made again. 

 

The grass thinned out the deeper into the woodland we went, the terrain hatch-marked with fallen trees, hidden logs, and the occasional glacial erratic that caused an abrupt change of direction. John spied the east-west fence line. It became apparent that we had driven the truck about as far as we could. John went looking for a path parallel to it for the 4-wheeler as I walked along the fence to find the section-line corner-post, thinking we were close to it. I was in awe of how deep the woods were there; how rugged the country was -- and much farther we had to go. The thing was, coming from this direction, would I recognize where it was when I got there? Of course, no problem. I know this place like the back of my hand.

I walked the fence line a good distance thinking the section post should be ‘right about in here,’ marveling that there were white spruce trees out there, north of the fence line, that I didn’t know were there until the lay of the land began to look familiar. I started to question my location. Finally, I opened G.P.S. on my phone not believing my gut until G.P.S. made it plain as day;

 “You are on the east bank of the creek! Get ready for the old folks home, you tosser!” Argh!

Just about that time, John hollered at me from the north side of the fence as he looked for edible mushrooms. “Yeah, I wondered where you were going,” he said looking down at his feet, then rising up with several mushrooms in his hands. “You walked past the corner post! Didn’t you see that NO TRESPASSING sign?” I had to admit that I had not. 

 

https://www.myceliumsociety.com/2021/12/02/the-ultimate-guide-to-foraging-boletes.html

The section-line corner post, in the right-hand corner was the hinge post for a very old pasture gate made of woven wire along its bottom half and a couple strands of barbed wire along its top. Someone had made a loop of twisted wire to hook a similar-sized post on the opposite side. Over the ensuing years, most of the wood posts had rotted away and were replaced by green white-topped T-posts that stood straight as the day they were put in, but not so the fence, as fallen trees, moose, and deer smashed it flat in places -- which, might explain why I suddenly found myself on the north side of the fence after I started out on the south. Well, it could!

 

John, on our land, west of the corner-post that is immediately to the right of the rightmost tree.

 The section-line corner-post was right where I thought it was, but I walked right past it, seeing the spruce trees beyond it instead and thinking them wild-planted/unknown. I didn't 'see' them as the trees that my friend Jeff Barker and I planted in 1974. I forgive myself for not seeing the No Trespassing sign because it was just an old sign board I had nailed to a tree over 30-years ago; there was no sign on it, so it blended in with everything around it.

Regardless, at this point, we were where we needed to be, the whole point of all this effort (and blog-post) thus far: "To put up a stand up 'cross Mikinaak Creek." It was something John, and his two brothers Craig and Martin, and I have talked about for years. I often recalled a successful stand I built across the creek, back in the 1990s, that eventually storms had taken down. I was too busy (building six other stands) on the west side of the creek to replace the one the east. John had ordered what is called a 16-foot high 'ladder stand,' and had it shipped to our house. It differs from the other stands in that the hunter sits on a chair in the open, without protection from the wind or the cold, (like we all used to do when we were younger) and I built 'box-blinds' which have roofs, walls, windows and doors -- and heaters, for those who enjoy them. John had arranged for time-off from work to put this one up, so here we were. We talked about which tree he thought was the best and how to position the stand the best for right-handed shooters, sitting or standing. We looked for a large diameter tree; one that would be of suitable dimension of maybe 18-24 -inches, for the serrated teeth on the tree stand to securely grip the tree trunk; it couldn’t be too small or too big.

We walked back to the truck and gathered all the tools we thought we'd need; those we could carry on the wheeler, and those I could carry by hand like the stepladder, ropes, tools, camera tripod, and safety harness. I had wanted to video our project, until I remembered that the camera I chose to use had been refusing to take two videos in a row, claiming there was a ‘writing error,’ and so not working as expected. Now its tripod was just more junk to carry. I had hoped we could have gotten closer with the truck, so we wouldn't have to go through this, but I had underestimated how much timber there was on the neighbor's side of the fence.

 

Using long plastic cable ties we strapped the cargo onto the ATV in such a way that it was longer than it was wide enabling us to get through the woods easier. 

 

John eased the ATV over fallen logs, one wheel at a time when necessary. I lifted branches out of the way or broke them off to avail its passage until we got closer to the corner-post where we finally stopped, and began to unload the deer stand in its four, nearly five-foot long sections.

 

The hunter’s seat assembly required both of us, it being the most awkward piece to carry. We were very glad that we chose to assemble the stand at home, than do it in the woods. The uneven ground, the woven cover of high grass and fallen tree branches at our feet, would have made the handling of small parts more difficult -- especially when we dropped bolts and nuts on occasion, as we had done near the house, and had to resort to using a magnetic roofing-nail picker to find them in the grass. Glad indeed.

"Stand Up." Can you see the red dot?

 

Things will look much different all around and below us at that height with all the deciduous leaves gone. I'll be soon be crossing the creek again, by myself now, to install the safety harness and rope, as well as hooks to hang our gear on, and some other modifications necessary to keep us safe and comfortable. I want to clear a approaching trail too so we don't make much noise getting there and back. Don't have much time as hunting season is coming on.