Compass Country

By Dale Wood

This memoir is a true adventure story about three young men in their teens that are passionate about deer hunting in the Adirondacks spending much of their leisure time pursuing a dream. In their Quest of the big one, they enter acres of deep woods, Adirondack territory they call Compass Country, that many men will never see in a lifetime. Despite the extreme hard work, they set up a small camp in the middle of Compass Country spending weekends on a mission living the dream. Unfortunately it takes the pioneers many years of exploration, persistence and hard work before the passion becomes the success they had imagined and is still adventurous thirty six years later. As the Pioneers look behind them unfortunately there is no one following them therefore the tradition will sadly die with them. Modern technology such as computers and video games have Chastised our children holding them hostage blind to the beauty of the outdoors.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Feb 21, 2012
• ISBN: 9781468554823

Dale Wood

Dale Wood was born in Corinth N.Y., a small town in Upstate New York, June 2, 1957. He graduated from Hadley Luzerne Central School in 1975. Living in the heart of the Adirondack Mountains he like many of his friends enjoyed hunting the mountains and fishing many of the beautiful Mountain lakes. Later in his young life, he married his high school sweetheart Tammy Denton and started a family. Tanya and Eric were born and raised in the homes that Dale had constructed from the foundation to the last nail in the roof. In 1988, he took employment as a Correction officer working the max prisons such as Sing Sing, Green Haven including eleven years in Great Meadow Correctional. After their son, Eric graduated from high school Dale and Tammy sold their 25 acres of prime Adirondack property, quit their jobs and relocated on the east coast near the Atlantic Ocean again building and residing in another self-constructed new home. Dale owns and operates a plumbing and electrical repair business in Pawleys Island, SC. (Pawleys Plumbing Repairs, LLC).Every year Dale looks forward to returning to his roots in the Adirondacks hunting and spending time with his friends and family. Writing this book is another new adventure for this Author who under the pen name, “Running Bear” has written a few unpublished poems.

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© 2012 by Dale Wood. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 02/14/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4685-5481-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4685-5482-3 (ebk)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012903006

Printed in the United States of America

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Dedication

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

Chapter VI

Chapter VII

Chapter VIII

Chapter IX

Chapter X

Chapter XI

Dedication

I dedicate this book to My good friend Mike Waite, the only original pioneer that never missed a hunt week in Thirty-six years. Waiter’s leadership has shown the path for many new Compass Country adventures. In addition, my good friend Rick Shiel, another pioneer who was a true asset and inspiration during our early exploration days. And to all the Big Lake Warriors wives who have supplied us with wonderful meals and supported us while we were out playing in the forest. And to all the dedicated hunters who faithfully found a way to make the week hunt year after year. And to anybody who had taken the time to listen to our stories.

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The Author

Chapter I

Growing Pains

The end of summer brings the welcome of cooler air and a change of scenery. Most everyone living in the small up state N.Y. Adirondack towns are slowly preparing for the dreaded upcoming winter months. Everyone is gearing up to heat their homes with fuel oil, natural gas, Lap gas, coal and most using woodstoves. Of course, if you choose the wood stove you have to gather the wood from the tree to your fireplace. This process can be physically demanding and is by no means the cleanest way of heating your home in the winter months. As a Kid, I can remember the wood smoke smell in the autumn air and the smell of piles of maple and oak leaves in the streets. The year was 1969 and I was 12 years old and a happy young pup, as the old timers would refer too many of the young boys growing up. These old timers as I refer were 50 years of age or so, as I am now. Many of the men in the fall of the year spent much of their time, mostly on weekends hunting the elusive whitetail deer. Twelve years old in N.Y. State is too young for me to hunt legally. Therefore, as for me and a few of my friends we had to wait until we were 14 years old to hunt small game. Many days in the hunting months, I can remember a big rack Whitetail Buck tied to the hood of a car or laying in the bed of a truck. I can recall many times over the years, men at the coffee shop would gather around a vehicle looking over a trophy Whitetail buck and listening to a proud shooter tell his story. I am sure many of the facts of the adventure were not completely the truth. No matter what twist was put on the story I was always amazed to see that big deer with huge antlers lying in the bed of the pickup. Many times, you would see a deer hanging in a tree in the lucky hunter’s yard and we would stop to look it over. Most successful hunters would share a story with you but many more spoke very little. Just being part of it all told the story. Success rate of taking a whitetail in the Adirondack Mountains when I was 12 years was not as good as it is now in 2011. Of course, certain hunters were much better at the game than others. There was always talk of who may be the best hunter. Some of these great hunters are still alive and well today. Some are still active hunters but are limited because they are declining in age. JR.( Harold) Clute, Fred Shattuck, Roy Ives, Edgar Wilcox, Ted Hall, Ray Denton, Bill Frasier, Loren Dingman, Wayne Cleveland, Jim Fish and my hunting friend’s Dad, Larry Waite were some of the locals who managed to successfully bag a Buck year after year. I often wished I could be half as good as them at the hunting game. There was talk that there were many hard winters in the late fifties and sixties. Heavy snowfalls and ice coupled with legal doe days drastically hurt the deer herd in the Adirondacks. It took many years of deer management by New York State Conservation Department to rebuild a healthy herd again. I am sure that there were a few poachers still spotlighting deer and keeping the Game Wardens busy. Bill Frasier was a Game Warden and a friend of the family so I often over heard stories about some of the poaching that was happening around town. The winters in the1980’s an1990’s were mild compared to the last 30 years and we started to see a greater population of Whitetails. The New York State deer management program played a very big role in the whitetail comeback.

At age, thirteen I remember a time my grandfather took me out with his shotgun to hunt squirrels, ruffed grouse, or maybe a rabbit. I was carrying a BB gun and proud of it. I was so excited to be out in the fall weather following my grandpa and trying so hard to be quiet. Not many people took the time to take me along and I appreciated any opportunity. There were many Sunday mornings my Step dad, Paul Croissant would wake me up before daybreak and we would ride to the Diner and have a good breakfast. After a great breakfast, we would take to the woods with me following in his footsteps. I remember how quiet he could walk on the crisp leaves and I tried so hard to follow. We managed to see a few deer and that was enough to keep my interest flowing. I am grateful today for all the people who were patient enough to take me along with them. I realize now that their opportunity of taking a buck may have been compromised with my presence. Talk about guns and the danger was always a topic with my mom and Grandma Shayne. My Grandma (Straight Arrow) is one quarter American Indian and very proud of it. We are Mohawk, the most feared of the Iroquois nation, she would say. All family members were given Indian names appointed by my Indian Grandmother and we answered by that given name. Running Bear is the name I was given and still answer to it today. Small talk about deer, bear, rabbits, squirrels and ducks often took place as I approached 14 years of age because that was a topic that was always on my mind. Of course, I was hinting about a real gun because I needed one to be able to accomplish a goal. A 22-caliber rifle was the weapon of choice. My grandma would drill in my head that the 22 is more dangerous than a shotgun, because it could travel so far. One mile, she would say reminding me of the dangers of the fire arm estimating the distance it may travel if it was not deflected. If my memory is correct, the Christmas of 1970 a 20-gauge single barrel lever action Ithaca shotgun was under the Christmas tree. I could not have been happier because many of my pals also were getting their first hunting gun.

I spent many memorable crisp fall mornings in the woods with a friend or friends hunting gray squirrels and partridge. We always ate what we harvested because that was the golden rule. We may have cheated a little because a few red squirrels, chipmunks and chickadees may had been left for the coyotes.

My buddy Mike Waite and I spent many hours with his dad Larry Waite hunting Snowshoe rabbits every winter in the snow. When the snow was fresh, fluffy and warm enough to carry a good scent, Mike’s hound Frisky would run all day until he dropped from exhaustion. I remember one time that Frisky ran a rabbit out of our hearing range a few times during the day only to return so exhausted that we had to carry him out of the woods and place him on the seat of the truck. We loved and appreciated the dedication he gave us. I often think that the hearts of the hunters I hunt with are very similar to the heart of our pal Frisky. Sometimes Frisky and many other of the beagles Mike trained did not return when it was time to quit, so we would leave a hunting coat in the snow knowing he would return and have a warm bed for the night. The next morning we would return to find the dog lying on the coat happy to see us. Mike and I, along with our pal Rick Shiel soon turned old enough for the big game of deer hunting. We had learned many skills of woodsman ship during our adventures of small game hunting and were ready for the big leagues. The three of us started with Shotguns and slugs as ammo. Buckshot was what we needed, but is illegal in New York State. The Shotgun was a sufficient hunting implement but not the weapon of choice. I can assure you that my buddy Mike Waite AKA (Waiter) could share a few stories about if I only had a Rifle. So soon after his first shotgun, Mike purchased a lever action Winchester 30-30 rifle. Mike, his Dad, Uncle Carl, And Uncle Clyde all hunted deer with the 30-30 lever action. Rick Shiel also bought a Lever action 30-30 but soon discovered that he was left eye dominant. This condition made him aware that he should be shooting left handed rather than right handed as he has been for years. The lever action as it turned out was not as user friendly for his condition so he sold me the Winchester Model 94. The story is that the 30-30 Winchester rifle has been used to take more whitetails than any other rifle in history. I was very proud of my new rifle and was very careful not to abuse it. One of my greatest memories was with my Step Dad. I would walk behind him slowly and cautiously trying to step where he did so I did not step on any sticks. One broken stick and I knew it affected the hunt. I stepped on a few here and there but he was very patient. Still hunting or Stalking was and still is my favorite methods of hunting the elusive whitetail. Many times Rick and I joined Mike, his dad and uncles on weekend hunts. More times than not the party was just the three of us. I learned a lot from Mike’s dad over the years and the biggest would be persistence. As I have said before the deer population was not the greatest in the 1970’s. We had many disappointing hunts but I still enjoyed the crisp mountain air, the smell of leaves and a fresh snowfall to track a deer.

The Year has arrived and we are old enough to get our driver permits and then the license. The driver’s license will give us a greater freedom to explore. High school basketball practice on Saturday and our growing interest in women slowed us down a little, but we still had the drive to hunt and enjoyed it. As time went on over the next couple years between Mike, Rick and myself a few good bucks had been completely missed and a few poorly hit and lost because of poor shooting. Mike had more opportunities to shoot at a buck than Rick or I because he hunted every weekend with his Dad and was the first of us three to bag a buck. Marksmanship was a problem for us as it was for anyone entering this game. The deer never seemed to stand still long enough to be able to get the sights on the right spot. We later, with much practice and persistence got a little better. In high school, a handful of our friends also hunted. During first class Monday morning we would share details about our weekend hunts. Most all of the conversation was of a positive nature and even more exciting if someone had the opportunity to shoot at a deer and even better if a buck was taken.

Chapter II

Methods to your Madness

It was always a secret where we hunted. You were taught to keep your fishing holes and good hunting spot to yourself. You try not to give to much information and a good friend would not ask too many questions. Many of the town hunters hunted in the Buttermilk State Park. Jr. Clute and Fred Shattuck knew every mountain in Buttermilk like it was their back yard. Everyone knew they hunted that area so other hunting parties respected that and avoided the areas they hunted. Clute and Fred shot many bucks and some were NYS Big buck club monsters. Clute has collected all the antlers from every buck he has ever shot and has them displayed. If you need your trophy mounted, he has a taxidermy business in Lake Luzerne New York. Junior Clute (Harold) has many Big Buck Club class deer mounted and displayed and many that he had taken himself and a few he collected from friends that has since passed away. If you get a chance to visit Clute’s Taxidermy, you will be impressed with the display. It is proof that good hard hunting and persistence pays off. Fred and Clute hunted in parties of men and were very successful in doing so. If you wanted to spend time hunting with Clute and Fred you would freeze your butt off, but eventually a buck would cross your path. I found many different strategies that people used in hunting the whitetail. I recall hunting with Clute once when he crossed a big track in the mud. He studied the track intensely for a short while, I suppose trying to determine if the track was a worthy deer for us to be chasing. Many times Clute would check for deer tracks in the muddy skid roads or just driving down the highway, spot a big track and use that for a starting point. On that day we set up a drive and made a couple of hunts but came up short. I guess we will call that method (cold tracking.)You could be sure that if Fred Shattuck put you on a deer runway it was a good one. He always seemed to find a good spot for himself and was very successful. Clute did most of the pushing deer to the sitters and scouted all he could. Sometimes he seemed to take his time and was often accused of being a little out of bounds. I have been accused of some of that myself over the years, but never meant to stray to far from the so-called boundaries.

If I had taken the long route of investigation and my good friend Chris Waterhouse, (Mouse) had waited a little too long he would refer to me as Wandering Woody. That is the thanks I get for all the effort that I had made trying to push that big buck to him. (snicker) After all, you have to remember, I have hunted with Frisky the rabbit hound. All rocks, stumps, fallen trees, caves, swamps, valleys, scrapes, rubs, deer tracks and anything that resembled the likes of the elusive Whitetail must be investigated. To complete all the tasks at hand while I am out on this mission my fellow hunters sent me on, takes a lot of time! That’s the story I tell and I’m sticking to it. Hunting with Mike and his dad was very repetitious but brought many years of success. They had a plan that has worked for many years and they stuck to it. A decision would be made in the early morning of what mountain we were going to hunt and how we were going to attack it. The weather or maybe the results from the last outing could have an effect on the decision made that morning. Once we knew where the hunt started, every piece of the mountain we hunted was strategically put in place. We sat or stood behind the same tree or rock that Mike’s grandfather watched years ago. We shot a good many deer over the years and missed a few, also following the strategy handed down from Mike’s grandfather. The lesson learned with this style of hunting is if you stay persistent and continue to make your hunts, you will be successful. Think about all the bucks on the move looking for mates, eventually you will have a buck or two in that area you’re hunting. The way our hunts were structured, all the ground we planned to hunt was covered and at the end of the day, we were close to our trucks. If we shot a buck it did very little to change our hunting plan. We made adjustments and some times left the deer and returned to drag it to our trucks later. We had seen times in fresh snow we deviated from our course to chase a big track and most of the time that decision ruined the day. We learned from our mistakes and very rarely do we track hunt any more. The old joke about track soup is a reality. I have never tasted the infamous soup but upon returning from many hunting trips resulted in me staring into an Empty soup bowl. We have wounded a few Bucks and had to chase them down over the years. We always make an effort to hunt every wounded animal down. Although we lose very valuable time and position, the animal deserves our total commitment so the animal does not suffer. The lesson learned is do not chase deer tracks and take well placed shots. I have been guilty of a rushed shot and a shot I never should have taken. As we have matured as hunters, our success rate has greatly improved and the proof is mounted on the wall. My favorite hunting strategy is (Still-hunting.) I enjoy the one on one adventure. Make a decision where to hunt, think out a game plan then enter the whitetails world. You learn as much about the area you can about the territory you are hunting. If you pay attention you pick up rut lines, scraps, runways and most important the escape routes. The wind becomes important when stalking. If the wind is at your back, you have almost no chance of seeing the deer before he detects you. If the wind is in your face the odds are little better for you because you can approach from downwind and sometimes spot the deer before they spot you. A smart buck will always be alert with his or her nose positioned into the wind. I have walked many miles only seeing tails or maybe a flicker of a horn. Many days I was happy with that. Slowly stepping, trying not to step on a twig, knowing that one snapped twig could be a big mistake. We know the whitetail has great noses and the ears are just as keen. In our hunts, we use the still hunt method to push deer to our watchers. I have been with groups that had their drivers bark like dogs during the drive. This method keeps the drivers together in rhythm and most importantly, no one can stray and become lost. My opinion regarding this method is that the deer know exactly where you are and the element of surprise is minimal. The remainder of the day the deer are on point and always one step ahead of you. This method has worked but we choose to give the drivers the best possible chance to get a shot at a buck.

Late in November, the Southern tier deer season in New York State opens up and some of the hunters from the North will take a couple of trips to the Southern tier to fill doe tags. These trips could really sharpen your hunting and shooting skills. The Southern tier and western tier allow many opportunities to observe more deer and also allow you to shoot a couple of deer with the proper permits. When the hunters from the North Country went south to fill their doe tags it opened up more opportunity for the hunters who were committed and dedicated stayed and hunted in the North. The month is November and we all know that the Bucks are out on the prowl looking for a mate. It really did not make much sense to leave at such a critical time. We took advantage of the situation because it allowed us to have much more freedom to expand our hunting territory. The middle of November is the rut and a very poor time to leave the hunting areas you have been hunting so hard during the past months. Most of the hunters who made this choice made it because it was easier hunting and gave them a change of scenery.

A great method to bag a buck may be the elevated tree stand. Many Bow hunters use this method and some are successful. When I was a young man, growing up you never heard of anyone climbing a tree. Most people are reluctant to climb to a height that they will be undetected by a smart buck. A good many hunters will find a scrape line or rub line and sit for hours and wait for a deer to investigate. Incorporate a good deer scent and a grunt call and your chances are greatly improved. Because the production is often slow and cold with this type of hunting it often results in retiring early from the forest.

Chapter III

Obstacles

Silent horns

Posted land what does it mean

Nothing more than an ending to a dream

Mountains and Meadows and fields of corn

Protected by a mass of signs blowing a silent horn

Our ancestors once walked the land of the free

Never the aggravation of a warning on every tree

Fences and stonewalls in our fathers time

Indicated this is yours and this is mine

Precious dirt, trees and stone

Now ruined for the sake of a home

Look beyond over there!

Land shockingly brightly bare

Once was a stand of Pine and Oak

Food so scarce even a bird may croak

No hunting and fishing or trespassing say these Silent Horns

Now it’s time to realize that immigration is underway

Let’s keep the City the City and no other way

Good memories have been many and bad have been few

Vacant land for years now belongs to someone new

More warnings in which these people thrive

Are erasing the dreams of our children slowly disappointing

but very much alive

As the Vultures push and push for more

Do the right thing and slowly close the door!

Written By (Running Bear) Author 1988

Just about anywhere, you go today near civilization you will find a posted sign. When Mike and I hunted Bear Mountain and Dennis Gill Mountain, back when we were kids the only signs you would see was at the beginning of Waite Road. Now there is a posted sign on every tree. A large track of land on top of the mountain has been purchased and posted but the landowner allows the Waite family to hunt. More and more people are buying acreage for investment purposes never seeing the land and having it posted. I understand they own the land and pay taxes on it, but a large number of people will not allow hunters the option of hunting for unknown reasons. The fact that certain acreage is off limits to hunters poses a problem because the deer do not seem to obey the signs. Therefore your hunt has been compromised. We have learned to work our hunts around these forbidden areas. The Southern and Western tier has become notorious for this, becoming a deterrent for many hunters and is not getting any better. The last few years I attempted to hunt in the Western tier I found it hard to find any private property that was not posted. All the private land that we hunted since 1973 had been logged severely and four-wheel ATV vehicles had the land all tore up. All the State land and parks were hunted until a deer track was hard to find. One big problem was that the Pennsylvania deer season started two weeks later than the New York State so you had to compete with hundreds of eager out of State hunters. I am sure they paid a hefty license fee and the State of New York gratefully accepted. New York State wants to sell more licenses to more hunters and expects a larger number of young hunters to follow in dad’s footsteps, but fails to provide enough relief with the posted property problem. The deer when pressured will naturally hole up in these safe havens until they feel it safe to return to their natural habitat. Big paper companies like International Paper and Finch and Pruyn own thousands and thousands of acres of land in the Adirondack region. All this land is posted and much of it leased to hunting clubs. A large percentage has been lumbered leaving the landscape open with blackberry and raspberry briers with heavy new growth making it very tough on the hunter.

For many reasons, there has been a decline in hunting and fishing licenses in most states in the United States. I have believed for years that the use of motorized vehicles such as four wheelers (ATV) on private land has been discouraging many of the serious hunters. It does not make a whole lot of sense to ride your four-wheeler in the woods to sit and expect the deer not be aware of your arrival. If a smart buck does not hear you, I can assure you that he can feel ground vibrations. I am positive the smells of exhaust will, with out a doubt decrease your chance to bag that trophy you woke up at four Am. to hunt. The success rate cannot be very high. If a man has a disability, and cannot physically get where he feels he needs to be, the State makes provisions for the handicapped and he or she should take advantage of the gesture. When we were young boys, growing up I always thought that if the posted signs continue to be put up, when my kids get to be my age there would be nowhere left to hunt. We are very close to that now.

The selfish hunter also has discouraged many serious hunters. Many years ago, I was hunting in Steuben County NY with my step dad, my brother Glenn, and a party of men with whom we hunted together every year. I had the opportunity to shoot a nice buck running in thick brush about 40 yards away. We were using shotguns with slugs because the State of New York would allow only shotguns or muzzleloaders in this part of the state. I shot the deer twice