Letting go...

Nannie with my oldest this past Halloween

We all deal with significant losses in our lifetime. Unfortunately, I fell victim to just that. This Thursday at 9:30 a.m. I lost my last grandparent, my Nannie. She had battled a multitude of complications these past few years in stride and finally she had to give up the good fight. As hard as it is right now, I'm okay. This post tonight will explain why...

Over the past month, Nannie went to the hospital several times and was admitted to the local nursing home to recuperate in hopes that her complications could at least be prolonged for a little more time. I visited whenever I could, it's difficult when you are holding two jobs, a family, and the responsibilities that adjoin both. We'd talk and share the time well, after all I was Nannie's boy and she'd light up when I walked through the door. In addition, I'd try to get my beauties in as often as I could. But this past week, she ended up back at the hospital tackling several complications which when treating two the other one would get worse. It seemed that she'd take one step forward, then two back. We remained optimistic however...

This past Tuesday, my father stopped in to give me the lowdown about her status and the information wasn't favorable. She had been transferred to the intensive care unit at another hospital to see if one more latch ditch effort could buy her kidneys more time. If the CAT scan looked promising, she'd be a candidate for a procedure that would eliminate some of the fluid...

I got the call at my after school program that the doctors were not going to do the procedure therefore cementing the fact that her time was limited. On my way home from work, I called my parents who were there to find out her status so that I could figure out my possibilities in visiting her. The update was bleak, but I decided that I had some things to say. The doctors had started a morphine drip to accommodate her pain and her responsiveness was fading...

I drove the 2 hours to the hospital picking up my mother in transit along the way only to find my grandmother heavily sedated and relatively peaceful. The nurse told me she could hear me but may not be able to communicate with me, but I took that news in stride and held her hand as I started to share my words with her. Every so often, she'd squeeze my hand to let me know she was listening...

By the grace of god during our time together, she began to fight for a greater ability to talk to me. Then her eyes opened slightly and gazed into mine, I knew this moment was critical. I kept telling her that I loved her, that my girls loved her, and how important she was to me. Her responses were so labored, muffled phrases but so clear to me. She kept telling me that she loved me, her eyes fighting to say open to see her boy. Then the pain increased and the nurse had to administer more medication to ease her suffering. I knew that when the drugs took effect, my window would be over...

It was about 9:30 at this point and I told her that I needed to go. I did tell her I'd get up tomorrow to see her, but the response that she gave me was "I can't do it" and with that I told her that it was okay for her to go...

I told her I loved her, she said the same and mustered the energy to raise her arms asking for a hug. I held her tight, kissed her, and for the last time in her life I told her that I loved her. She became more peaceful as the medication took action and I left the room knowing that this would be the last time I would hold my Nannie...

She passed the next morning while I was at school...

So often in life we consider the worst case scenario for our choices, but too often we neglect to do what is just plain right regardless of the consequences. I am so thankful that I didn't stay home that night and that I got there for that last visit. It was like she needed me to be there before she went to be with God. I'm okay now for my decision because she knew that her grandson was able to say goodbye and that I would see her again. But until then, I still have a lot of good work to accomplish and while I'm tearing up awful as I type this, she knows that the world is going to be better for my efforts...

Nannie, I love you and I will see you down the road. I miss you...

Near State Record...

Bill Maynard Jr. with a 29.67-pound lake trout caught 3/10/2009

I had been visiting Beech Hill Pond several times this year in hopes of catching a massive togue, aka lake trout. After all, it is the state record holder with a behemoth over 30 pounds. Now I understand that this isn't even on the same page as some of those Canadian lakers, but nevertheless any thirty pound fish would be a memory maker. Actually, a ten pounder would tickle my belly. So far in my togue fishing career, I did land a six pound laker at West Grand Lake of off Hardwood Island back in 2001. But this post isn't about my success or lack there of...

A scare of the old record happened recently by Bill Maynard, Jr. on Moosehead Lake, I encourage you all to read the article as posted in the Bangor Daily News...

I'd have to say that I would have been a little perturbed, but then again who was to know that the record would have been challenged...

Tight lines.

The Downeastduckhunter

Guess it's no longer the deer camera...

I decided to leave the deer camera out for one week and force myself to just leave it out in the woods. In all fairness, I actually had forgot that I had put out the device.

So today after conveniently realizing my neglect, I took a quick trip out to gather my Moultrie and connected it to my laptop. I was seriously surprised and excited to see what I caught on film. However I was frustrated that the big buck track I found about one hundred feet away from the camera didn't make it's way into the flash. Oh well, his time is coming.

I should have known better...

I found out yesterday afternoon what it feels like to take a tennis ball to the eye. Yours truly wasn't paying attention, bent over to grab a ball, leaned up, and flash. I know I yelped, for it stung quite well. After heading to the bathroom and inspecting a bloodshot eye with a high degree of pain, it became apparent that I needed to get to my eye doctor.

When all was said and done, I hadn't seriously injured my eye but got hit hard enough to warrant a good dose of inflammation. The drops my eye doctor gave me last night left my right eye quite dilated. So today while I was home I thought I'd show my great friend, The Rabid Outdoorsman, the fruits of my labor with an attached photo. After some "crude" exchanges, he got the last laugh as I now am the proud recipient of one of his photoshopped wonders.

Here's the before picture... .



and what it quickly became..



I do hope that socialism fails... or at least that Rabid misses a trophy buck next fall...

The Big 33... Part Two

The best part of getting my daughter involved in the activities I do is that I can adjust the practice to her level. That may mean shortening the time, watching the weather, leaving a little bit later, returning a bit sooner, and throwing in some of the amenities of home. That may result in swimsuit Barbie tagging along for a snowmobile ride, but if that's the arrangement then so be it. I'd go ice fishing with Barney, Elmo, Diego, Dora, and Big Bird if it means introducing my beauties to hunting and fishing. The key I have found is immersion with avenues to transition. Let me explain...

Before we even got to the lake, a pit stop to a local store resulted in a shopping spree of all things important. My daughter leads the way, determines what is essential for survival, and I only offer suggestions. She owns this portion of the day, without her input then fishing can't be fun. In doing so, we aren't necessarily eating well but nutrition isn't my concern here. Creating avenues to enhance the entire spectrum allows for a great connectivity to our time together. On a sidebar, my daughter also took the time at the checkout to inform everybody around us that her daddy was thirty-three today. It may seem questionable, but I believe that this is an early effort to promote leadership. Not bad for a four year old, picking our food and proud to inform the public that we are going ice fishing on daddy's birthday...

We met up with my father-in-law and his good friend, Vaughn, shortly thereafter. After traveling north through the blueberry barrens, we reached the lake and quickly unloaded. Before the guys had even unloaded the snowmobile, we had already hiked out to the island (well I hiked, towed, and sweat) and started drilling a few holes. Before long, the traps were in and the portable ice shack went up without a hitch...

I joked to Vaughn that before my daughter and I were finished tending the traps, we'd have a flag. He laughed, but I held true to my promise as the third trap tended sprang up while we checked the bait on the seventh tip up. The bait was stolen, but trout tend to stay where the food exists and this one would be caught. Three baits later an eight inch brook trout sprang from the hole and my daughter had the first part of her limit...



The men quickly took heed to my advice and checked there traps as well. But before they had anymore luck, another flag sprang up in my daughters line of traps. Here is where I realized another factor in turning on kids to being in the outdoors, maximize the success to minimize the disappointment...

Rather than hastily set the hook, I allowed for a little extra time for the trout to take the bait. These trout have been finicky and experience has taught that patience pays off. Plus it gave me some time to set up the video camera so that I could get this on film. What person doesn't love having a memorable experience caught on tape? I wish that my first deer had been recorded. Anyways, here's the product of our good work...



This was the second trout for my daughter which meant by law, her traps had to be pulled out. While doing this, a flag in Vaughn's row produced a brilliant 15 inch brook trout, the biggest I had seen all season. I swear this one alone was larger than the three my daughter and I had scored...



I had been watching the clock and monitoring my daughter's barometer of interest. By noontime, it became apparent that my limit would not be satisfied and my father-in-law had not even seen a flag. After some discussion, it was agreed that our day would end. The wind had picked up and even though we were at the leeward side of the island, the temperature still dropped. Within minutes, we are were packed up and commuted back to the trucks utilizing the snowmobile...



So in 3 hours of fishing, we managed four brook trout at 8, 10, 11, and 15 inches long respectively. In addition, my daughter got to show her papa how it's done and participate in an activity that really does define my father-in-law. I look forward to our next outing, but I need to figure out how to immerse a two-year old into the mix. She's ready to go, but she's going to be some work!!!

Have a great day,

The Downeast Duck Hunter