Why Pull the Plug?

I was e-mail queried the other day by an unknown reader who, it turned out, was a blogger interested in my opinion about continuing the Connecticut River Atlantic Salmon Restoration Program, which began in 1967 with the now impossible goal of establishing a viable sport fishery.

The question read: “Gary, is it fair to say you’re against the restocking effort because it’s ineffective, or because it’d be good to use those funds in another way?”

I first spotted the query at work going through my Web mail during a brief dead spot, made a note of it and revisited it upon retuning home after midnight. That’s when my cranial wheels got to spinning like bald tires in a shiny black mudhole. Yes, I have often called the program a failure and cited numbers, ones the experts implore us to ignore, to support my position. No, we never will enjoy that pie-in-the-sky sport-fishery we set out to establish way back when. And now, with the herring runs bordering on extinction and shad runs greatly diminished due to global warming and other factors, all Connecticut River anadromous fish migrations could be endangered. Still, I can make a case for continuing the cooperative, interactive, 41-year-old restoration effort, which, despite the salmon failure, has been a positive conservational influence on streams big and small throughout the Connecticut River basin.

I guess it comes down to politics and philosophy, and anyone who has read this space for any length of time knows I’m no conservative. The question I ask myself is: Where would we be now if there had never been a salmon-restoration program? What would our Millers and Deerfield rivers look or smell like today? How about the Chicopee and the Westfield; what would their status be? So it really shouldn’t come down to one issue, salmon, when assessing the restoration program, because it runs much deeper than that.

I remember the Connecticut and Millers rivers when you wouldn’t want to stick your little toe into them for more than an instant, that filthy. Today people are water skiing and bird watching and swimming, all byproducts of salmon restoration and river clean-up.

And how can our evaluation of the failed program come down to dollars and cents given the trillions we’re wasting elsewhere on far more damaging, potentially world-altering adventures for the benefit of greedy billionaires?

So, yeah, the salmon program has been a failure. There’s no other way to evaluate it. And had the shepherds of the program done their homework before embarking on the project, they would have learned that the Connecticut River never was an important Atlantic salmon river, except for a perhaps a 300-year window during the Little Ice Age, which happened to coincide with New England settlement.

But pull the plug? Why?

Like I told the blogger who queried me: To me, the vocal critic, 200 annual salmon returns is better than none. But that’s just one man’s opinion, one who is light-years removed from mainstream political thought.

We could and often do spend far more on less worthy projects.

It Doesn’t Add Up?

Published: Thursday, June 18, 2009

What you see is what you get. That’s about the status of anadromous-fish passage here in the Happy Valley.

If you’re content with maybe 200 Atlantic salmon and less than 200,000 American shad annually, rejoice, you’ve got it. Want more? Too bad. Ain’t happening anytime soon. Not now or ever. Case closed. Rhetoric be damned.

Yeah, I know, the recent gray, unsettled weather has stabilized the Connecticut River temperature in the mid-60s, prolonging the annual run. More shad and salmon may yet appear before it climbs to 70 and they stop migrating. Uh-hu, could happen. And maybe you’ll discover the money tree if you walk through the woods on enough hot, steamy days. Then again, perhaps if you suffer here on earth, there’ll be a better day in mythical paradise. Get the point? It’s all about that pot of gold. Some chase it. Some don’t. Count me among the latter. In my finite world, reality ain’t that hard to swallow.

I’ve seen the white, extended-cab, U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service trucks out along our dirt roads in recent weeks, crews depositing immature Connecticut River-strain salmon progeny into our bubbly streams. I’ve seen them in my back yard, in Whately, in Conway, in Ashfield. You name it, for decades they’ve been there. True-believers, these altruistic souls doing the stocking. Totally committed. Ignore the numbers, they say. Numbers are irrelevant.

Imagine that: numbers meaningless, at least so long as they’re depressing. Tell me, do you suppose they’d still be meaningless if the salmon-count miraculously jumped to 1,000, 1,500, 15,000? Yeah, sure. Give me a break. Let that happen and you’ll hear about salmon numbers on your radio, your TV, in the newspapers (if any survive), and from the red-clad town crier with the long brass bugle. You couldn’t escape it if you tried. Sort of like Chandra Levy or Terri Shiavo. They’d slap you upside the head with their numbers then, the same ones they now call insignificant. And trust me, the media would swallow it hook, line and sinker, hawk it like a Fenway frank. ”Hear ye, hear ye!” they’d bark. ”Read all about it! The salmon are back!” They’d flash it on the tube, tease to it in the crawl along the bottom of the screen. Breaking news: long-lost salmon are back in New England.

But when the numbers are embarrassing, as they are today, it’s all about damage control, propaganda, classroom deception and field trips; chasing yellow swallowtails through goldenrod meadows. Patience, jackass, patience: that’s the message. Don’t you understand? Numbers are meaningless in scientific experiments. Yeah, right! Sounds good. And while you’re at it, stop by, I’ve found the Holy Grail in my attic. Honest. There it was, buried in a stack of old plates; cups and saucers; goblets, too. I’ll let it go cheap to a worthy man, if there is such a thing.

As much as I hate to admit it, I have been looking at the numbers for three decades; studying them, comparing them, trying to digest them, make sense of it all. Guess what? They’re trending in the wrong direction. Has anyone else noticed? Shhhhhhhhh. There I go again, mentioning numbers. I should realize by now that they don’t matter. How could I forget? Shame, shame, shame on me, the gadfly, buzzing in their faces, stinging the back of their necks, the small of their legs, burrowing into their eye sockets, their ears; no relief, an unmerciful pest. Oh, how the truth stings.

So, just in case you were wondering, 69 salmon and 157,000 shad had been counted in the river basin through Tuesday. That’s fresh off the federal Web site, updated daily; then confirmaton by direct e-mail straight from the Connecticut River Coordinator’s office. By the way, if numbers aren’t important, then why do they record them daily, annually, historically? Why don’t they hide them in the same vault with their expense sheets? You tell me. Sometimes it’s hard to figure.

All I can say is that I’m giving it my best shot. Not good enough, I guess, because I refuse to play the fool.

Truth is, it takes only a simple mind to see that something just doesn’t add up.

Mr. Wells Is Irked

Octogenarian Edward M. Wells, a former Braintree educator enjoying blissful retirement nestled in Leyden’s gentle hills, has issues with our Connecticut River Atlantic salmon-restoration effort. First, he’s tired of stocked salmon progeny interfering with his native brook-trout angling along shaded, backwoods, Franklin County streams; second, he’s tired of the propaganda.

Wells was so stirred up last summer that he fired off a complaint to MassWildlife. He was reacting to “Brook Trout in Massachusetts,” a Kathleen Campbell article about conservation efforts aimed at rebuilding declining Eastern Brook Trout populations in the Northeast. The story was published in “Massachusetts Wildlife,” MassWildlife’s popular quarterly magazine. It was one of many stories, including more than one in this space, published in the Northeast last year during a media blitz by Trout Unlimited and the Eastern Brook Trout Joint Venture — a watchdog organization uniting private conservation and academic groups with 17 state fish and wildlife agencies and federal partners under one altruistic tent. The goal was to protect and build dwindling wild-brook-trout habitat, some of the best of which exists right here in our Franklin/Hampshire and southern Vermont hills.

Wells’ opinion, formed after three-quarters-of-a-century-worth of fishing experience on local streams, is that one quick way to protect our indigenous brookies is to quit polluting their native streams with foreign, hatchery-raised invaders called Connecticut River Atlantic salmon progeny. Mr. Wells stated his contentions succinctly in an erudite, July 10, 2006 letter to the editors of Massachusetts Wildlife. He’s still waiting for a response. Let’s excerpt the letter here:

“If the global attention now given to environmental issues is valid, it stresses that we humans must learn to control our waste products in a responsible manner. This does not include the delusional and irresponsible dumping of Atlantic salmon fry in our mixed-forest, glacially spawned, beautiful New England brooks, so unique and delightful.

“As a dedicated, non-purist, worm-fisherman who uses a modest, no-frills fly rod, I am distressed to spend an outing catching these huge-eyed, little nibblers who have usurped my favorite spots and greatly diminished the number of native trout by their consumption of the available stream nutrients.”

After praising state, federal and private organizations for a job well done improving the water quality of our Connecticut River and its tributaries as a byproduct of anadromous-fish restoration over the past 30 or 40 years, Wells gets back to his diatribe against salmon stocking:

“The unreasoned release of millions (literally) of raised fry and smolts is deceptive and counter-productive in light of the clear impossibility of these fish reaching Long Island Sound and returning to their spawning sites. The existence of multiple dams on almost all of our stream drainage precludes this. The Volstead Act (Prohibition) of the 1920s was a noble experiment also, but it was doomed (or damned) by its idealist frailty.

“To enlist school kids in these failed ecology projects is both deceptive and poor science. Give it up, please.”

Before we proceed, be it known that Mr. Wells does read this column but was not aware that I became an outspoken critic of our salmon program during the 90s, following exhaustive research on the status of salmon migration in colonial New England. It’s not that I’m against the program. Quite the contrary, I initially viewed the initiative favorably, and still accept it as worthwhile, albeit barely. My salient oppositional point has always been that we’re trying to restore a Connecticut River salmon run that was never great, even during the golden era of the Little Ice Age, which ended during the first quarter of the 19th century. Even then the mouth of the Connecticut River was at the southern extreme of a North American salmon range defined by water temperature. So what hope exists with the earth warming at an alarming rate, and with it the water temperatures of historic New England salmon rivers like the Penobscot, Merrimack and Connecticut?

During the first 150 years of New England settlement, the sight of a 45-pound Atlantic salmon in the nets of shad fishermen below Peskeumskut Falls was a celebratory event, akin to a contemporary Colrain hunter bagging an 11-point, 205-pound racker. Salmon-restoration officials will dispute that informed opinion unless they do the research. But according to more than one critic within the professional anadromous-fish fraternity, the “true-believers” are not interested in history, and they’re not interested in numbers, either.

Imagine that! Doctors and masters of science who ignore numbers, the very basis of scientific experimentation. It’s true. Defenders of the salmon-restoration program must ignore numbers because they’re clear as a starlit February sky, screaming that the program has been a dismal failure. How else to describe an initiative that has deposited hundreds of millions of immature salmon into Connecticut River basin streams for an annual return of about 200? And let’s be honest: Two hundred salmon swimming up the Connecticut River basin is like a microscopic speck of dust floating in a 5000-gallon tank of water. You do the math. It ain’t encouraging.

The original goal of our salmon-restoration program was to create a recreational fishery on the Connecticut and its major tributaries, such as the Westfield, Deerfield, Millers, West and White rivers. Now, whispering officials will admit that initial goal will neven be realized, period. It’s out of the question. But they can’t admit it because there would be public outcry and potential program termination. So instead, the loyal employees shepherd a massive public-relations campaign aimed at what Wells calls “schoolkids,” who raise tiny salmon in their classroom aquariums and release them into local streams hoping they’ll return as spawning adults. Perhaps they should instead learn to pray, because the probability that one of their fish will return is about equal to winning the lottery. That’s what they don’t tell the kids, who will forever nourish a romantic myth planted by dishonest “education.”

“What really got to me was the way they manipulate the kids,” said Wells, 41 years a teacher. “I see the pictures and stories in the paper, smiling teachers and kids releasing salmon into our streams with the hope they’ll be back to spawn. It’s pure deception. They’re trying to put a happy face on an impossible dream.”

But that’s just the tip of the iceberg. It gets worse. You see, Wells attended a student field trip to a local facility that sent his blood pressure skyrocketing. During a presentation, one of the workers told the idealistic students that it was comforting to know that someday his grandchildren would be able to stand on the banks of the Connecticut River and catch Atlantic salmon.

“He wasn’t telling the truth,” said Wells, emphatic that he’s not angry, just disappointed with the dishonesty. “He was a nice man, very knowledgeable, but what he told those kids was wrong, in my opinion. He knows a recreational salmon fishery is unattainable.”

At this point it’s not about truth and integrity; it’s about planting the seed of hope in future generations, political spin created to shape policy and keep the money flowing into a failed program. These committed, well-meaning scientists are not evil people worthy of scorn. They’re bright, articulate scientists attempting to perpetuate a myth and preserve a wonderful job located in a slice of paradise known as the Connecticut Valley.

I guess you can’t blame them for that.

Declining Herring, Shad

June 27, 2007

A recent development relating to Connecticut River anadromous fish must have officials worried, and this issue has nothing to do with Atlantic salmon.

Yes, the salmon numbers are still pathetic. That’s a constant. But now there are storm clouds hovering over other marine species that migrate upriver annually to spawn, namely river herrings. The fact is that blueback herring and alewife have virtually disappeared from the river while American shad are greatly diminished. That could spell trouble on the horizon.

When criticized about disappointing salmon runs that have averaged around 200 over the past 40 years, restoration officials have tried in recent years to justify their program’s existence by pointing to the bountiful herring and shad runs brought about by major improvements in water quality and aquatic habitat. The small herrings have little or no value other than bait in the sportfishing community, but the recreational shad fishery is popular, drawing thousands of anglers annually. The current problem is that shad numbers have dropped from around a million annually to about 200,000, which is troubling. Do the math. Anglers with memories of fishing the Holyoke tailrace when 750,000 shad were lifted over that dam must notice a significant difference when a mere 170,000 are lifted there, and that’s been the case the past couple of years.

As an observer who’s followed the anadromous runs for nearly 30 consecutive years and fished often for shad during the 1980s, I noticed the plummeting numbers in the 90s and queried officials for answers. The most common explanation was that a striped-bass moratorium had greatly increased stocks of large, predatory stripers, a factor that could be directly related to diminishing river-herring numbers, including shad. But, frankly, that never made a lot of sense to a man who studies history, particularly New England and Connecticut Valley history. I think in the historical context, which pokes a gaping hole in the striped-bass-predation theory.

Haven’t river herrings and stripers always co-existed in the Connecticut River system? Weren’t there more large stripers and also more herring in the Connecticut River between the Contact Period and the Revolution than there are today? How, then, can we blame the disappearance of herrings on striped-bass predation? It defies logic.

Connecticut River Coordinator Janice Rowan says, “We have evidence that stripers are playing a role but questions remain about the size of that role.” So, in an attempt to answer that question, a study that began in 2005 is being conducted by University of Connecticut doctoral candidate Justin Davis and supervised by Associate Professor Eric Schultz, Department of Ecology and Evolutionary Science and co-director of the Environmental Science Program.

“We agree that (the declining-herring issue) is not likely to be a single-factor story,” wrote Schultz in an e-mail. “The ocean fishery for herring may be playing a role, but quantifying that impact will be difficult. Other predators may be important. Other threats that should be considered include warming trends in coastal waters, rainfall patterns, and increasing water withdrawals in coastal regions.”

Davis and a research team have been electrofishing for striped bass and using a stomach pump to examine their diet, while another crew has been tagging a releasing stripers that will be tracked and studied.

According the Schultz: “We will be putting together several sources of data in this way: gut contents of striped bass combined with data and assumptions about digestion rates, yield estimates of how many river herring a striped bass in the Connecticut eats in a season. Our tag-recapture experiment will yield estimates of abundance of bass in the Connecticut, so that we can estimate how many herring are consumed by stripers in the river in a season. Our final intent is to put this in a historical context so that we can estimate what portion of the herring decline is attributable to striped bass.”

Schultz called the predation issue “size-dependent,” explaining that the stripers most likely to eat river herring are at about the 28-inch legal minimum for a keeper. However, smaller “schoolies” are more than capable of devouring many shad progeny, which are now readily available to them and other predators, such as marine bluefish and indigenous freshwater species. But, again, the fact is that those predators have always been present in the Connecticut, so how much of an impact could they really be having on the current decline.

The answer, based on historical precedent, is probably not much. Seems more like a porous excuse for what sadly may be a doomed program.

Deer Numbers Game

There’s an undercurrent among longtime hunters and trained observers here in Massachusetts’ upper Connecticut Valley that the deer herd is not what it’s cracked up to be. So let’s examine the issue briefly.

If you believe MassWildlife’s deer-management team, the local deer herd has never been better. But talk to witnesses who’ve hunted the same woods or farmers who’ve maintained the same hayfields for decades and you’ll get an entirely different opinion. They’ll tell you without hesitation that there are less, not more, deer in our hills west of the Connecticut River.

So who do you believe?

Myself, I tend to listen to credible souls who have hunted the same woodlots and maintained the same mowings for a generation or two. They’re not counting deer turds in bedding areas, they’re counting animals they’ve seen from their treestands or the seats of their John Deeres, which seems like reliable evidence to me.

Who better to query when assessing the deer population than the men and women out there fertilizing and harvesting their fields. Not only can they tell you what they’re seeing from day to day, they can compare it to what they saw 10 and maybe even 60 years ago, when they were riding on their fathers’ laps. They can tell you how many deer appeared in the fields for the greening of March, and they can assess the fawn situation better than anyone. Why? Because they work the land, know it, live it.

So what do you say to these people when they tell you they’re not seeing the large herds or spring lambs they once saw? Do you tell them they’re misremembering? That deer have changed, no longer feed in rye and alfalfa fields? That the lambs are there, just not visible? Go for it if you want to play the fool. Myself, I listen and take their information to the bank. If they tell me there are less deer on Catamount or Cricket Hill than in 1970, I believe them, regardless of what the bean-counters say. I guess it’s just my way of processing info.

And here’s something else to chew on for a minute, a tough piece of gristle. Think about places in this state where deer densities are highest, places like Deer Management Zone 7, or southeastern Massachusetts, where multiple antlerless permits are sold like lottery tickets. There, many does are being harvested annually and the deer herds are out of control. Here in the upper valley, where permits have been scarce during the 21st century, we appear to be experiencing little or no herd growth. How does that happen? Go figure.

So here I sit, perplexed, wondering if it’s my eyes or the experts who are deceiving me. It just makes sense to me that if the deer population in my neighborhood is expanding, then I’ll be seeing 10 deer this March where I was seeing eight last year and six the year before. But that’s not what I’m seeing. In fact it seems to be going in the opposite direction. We’ll see in a couple of months.

I’m not casting rocks, just being honest. But the experts don’t want to hear it.

It Is What It Is

Published June 16, 2006

About the only thing you can confidently predict about the spring anadromous fish runs in the Connecticut River and elsewhere in New England is that they’re unpredictable. Other than that, it’s a crapshoot.

Many factors must be considered when analyzing the status of American shad, Atlantic salmon and other migratory fish that live in saltwater and spawn in freshwater; but once the run is under way, it all depends on the weather, which dictates river flows and temperature, the two variables that impact daily and weekly runs.

In a perfect world aimed at promoting optimal returns, I suppose the man at the controls would bring heavy March/April rains to initiate early-spring snowmelt and high river flows, followed by a gradually receding river that slowly and steadily warms from the 40s to 60s Fahrenheit, stimulates migration. Once the river temperature climbs to 60, all hell breaks loose until 68, when the fish stake out their territory and settle in for a few weeks of spawning that concludes before July. The problem is that it’s seldom that programmed and the runs vary greatly from year to year.

This year’s run is strikingly similar to least year’s. Both started early, triggered by warm, dry Aprils, then got bogged down by cool, gray, wet months of May that wreaked havoc on anadromous runs, riled the river, yo-yoed the water temperature and caused several shutdowns of the major upstream fish-passage facility in Holyoke. Last year we kept waiting for the river to settle down and clear the way for one last pulse of fish to pour through Holyoke and other lower Connecticut River stations, but that surge never materialized and probably won’t this year, either.

Yep, that’s right, I’m going out on a limb and predict that, despite the fact that river flare-ups appear to have delayed the runs big-time during the last month, it’s too late to expect that one last surge we were expecting last year at this time. It didn’t come last year and it ain’t coming this year, either.

How do I arrive at that assessment? Easy. You just get a feel for fish migration after sitting at the keyboard for a quarter century examining the same fish running up the same river year after year after year. Call it intuition or whatever you want to, but it’s proven reliable in the past and will, in most cases, remain that way in the future.

So, what we’re looking at today, is a run akin to last year’s, when 186 salmon were counted in the river and 116,511 shad passed Holyoke. Right now, the same two numbers stand at 138,323 shad, an insignificant increase, and 127 salmon, an insignificant decrease.

Yes, the Barrett Fishway has been closed about as much as it’s been open over the past 30 days, and the river temperature is still below 60. But even when the lift was open over the weekend only 2,000 and 15 salmon showed up, so why should we expect a major run later this week or next, when the sun again shines and quickly raises the water to optimal migration temps?

Chalk it up as another shad run of less than 200,000 and another salmon run of less than 200 and move on.

It is what it is.

The Deer Won

Interesting how, now that my hunting gear is squirreled away till next year, my sparse venison supply long ago consumed, Mother Nature has dropped two perfect snowstorms for deer hunting in less than a week. The old hag must be looking out for the deer in my neighborhood; at least that’s how it appears on the surface. And I can’t say it surprises me much, either. I guess that’s just the way it goes.

Yeah, I know we got a snowstorm during shotgun season, one that gave us everything required to cut fresh tracks and follow them. But I can remember getting out of the truck that morning, slipping on my coat and orange vest, loading my gun, taking a few steps across the alfalfa field in light, shin-deep Conway snow and saying to my buddy, “We got way more than we needed,” which meant, “Why couldn’t we have gotten 1-3 inches of soft, wet snow instead of a foot? Well, that 1-3 came overnight Monday, following a perfect inch Sunday, at a time when it did local deer hunters no good at all.

Dogging tracks in this stuff would have been a breeze, no resistance as you put one foot in front of the other, no lifting of the feet, and no unzipping your coat and removing your hat to wipe your brow as you made your way through the woods.

Even though it wasn’t ideal, you could live with the snow we got that second week of shotgun before rain fell, crusting the snow and making it noisy, particularly at icy first light; and that’s not even considering the way crunchy snow changes deer habits. Essentially what that thick, noisy crust did was shut down deer movement for five solid days, which was easy enough to figure out. After that crust formed, you couldn’t find a fresh track on the busiest trails you’d been monitoring for weeks.

Well, you ought to see those runs now; right back to where they were before the icy snow; converging on a small standing cornfield from all directions, through people’s yards, across driveways, alongside barns and dog kennels — picking at moist cover crops barely poking through the snow. No fear under dark winter skies.

The good news is that they’ll be back next year, multiplied by two or more. No one did any damage to the deer we hunted, and the herds there will be better for it. In the meantime, I guess I’ll have to settle for market meat … again.

Bear Issues

What to make of the recent bear problems in Deerfield? Well, we better get used to it and take precautions to eliminate artificial food sources that encourage bears into residential neighborhoods before natural foods become abundant.

Bears come out of their spring dens famished, and there isn’t a lot of natural food available for months. That’s when it’s crucial for people to eliminate garbage, beehives and birdfeeders as food sources.

Word on the street was that the sow killed by law enforcement after it entered a resident’s kitchen on Upper Road in Deerfield had been fed by a resident or residents on Hoosac Road in Conway, just across the Deerfield River in the Stillwater area. That story may or may not be accurate, but if it is, then the people who contributed to the problem now carry the guilt of the two motherless cubs fending for themselves.

It’s no secret that the Bay State bear population is a runaway train. As a result, uncomfortable, potentially dangerous bear/human confrontations are inevitable. The problem confronting state wildlife officials now is how to stabilize or reduce the statewide bear population, a tough nut to crack because bear hunting is not and likely never will be popular here.

As problems increase, the gadflies who’ve advocated extending bear season during the shotgun deer season as a solution will have a field day criticizing the bear-management team. The state has already lengthened the bear season dramatically — from 12 to 23 days — in an effort to increase the harvest, and the kill did jump to a record 153 quickly. But 153 is not nearly enough to stabilize the population. And unless the population is stabilized soon, we’re going to see more and more bears killed in residential and agricultural neighborhoods.

Archers can legally take bears during the November season, which overlaps the archery deer season for six days, but critics say many hunters are nervous about killing a bear with an arrow. They say there would be no such reluctance by shotgun-toting deer hunters.

The other side of the argument is taken by state Bear Project Leader Jim Cardoza. He says that, because bears are often denned-up and inactive during the shotgun deer season, bear-hunting opportunities would be inconsistent and thus ineffective as a management tool. The critics counter that even an “insignificant” or inconsistent annual kill is better than nothing, and that maybe three or four annual deer-season bear kills in areas with dangerous bear densities would be enough to eliminate some problems.

Where is this argument headed?

It’s anyone’s guess, but state wildlife officials seem to have few bear-management options better than opening the deer season.

Like a vocal local proponent of deer-season bear hunting said in this space recently: “I don’t know why they don’t at least throw their worm in the water and see what happens.”

Sounds reasonable.

Frontier Justice?

Sometimes with deadline approaching I sit at my desk, sheer-softened sunlight illuminating the room through the south windows, e-mail in the rearview, wondering how to fill this space. Then it just comes to me in any number of ways, this time during a telephone conversation sweetened by procrastination.

I was chatting with a friend and neighbor about subjects we often discuss — things like antiques and auctions, local history and issues (plenty of those in Greenburgh these days), birds and wildlife. Nearing the end, he said he thought he had seen a coyote out back earlier that morning, alone. Could it be?

Sure, likely a coyote, probably not alone, though. There were others with it, perhaps concealed in the rush swamp or behind the wild rosebush, but they were there somewhere, probably rabbit hunting in unison for a squeal-frenzied dawn feast.

So there it was, a subject to write about: coyotes and the potential impact they’re having on deer in this deep, crusty snow that seems to have been with us for more than a month, never good news for deer.

I have been keenly aware of coyote presence around my home all winter, especially when I’m out with the dogs during the wee hours. I hear them working the frozen, skeletal woods, hooting, hollering, yipping, barking; family units hunting, sound ricocheting off the icy terrain, amplified by the cold, clear, black winter air. My dogs and cats are aware of them, too, well aware, for good reason. Coyotes are a danger to pets, and despite the fact that I rarely see one, I know they patrol the neighborhood, perhaps right along the perimeter of my dwelling.

During a recent telephone conversation with a local upland farmer, a woman, we somehow ventured to coyotes. When I told her my guess was that this winter’s been tough on deer, getting tougher every day under the current conditions, she concurred, saying they have to seek safe-havens where they can escape the canine predators. She then shared a proven rural remedy for coyote issues, one that’s apparently quite popular among hilltown farmers who keep livestock and/or fowl. ”We call it the three-S solution,” she said, ”see ’em, shoot ’em and shut up. It works for us.”

Myself, I know of and accept such homespun justice, even though I’m aware it doesn’t follow the letter of the law. Truth be told, even though they’d never admit it, most game wardens put up with it, too. They know that in the real world there will never be enough coyote hunters to keep the species in check. They also know the damage a runaway coyote population can do to game, large and small, furred and feathered. So they just ignore vigilantism, pretend they don’t hear the gunfire, and like members of the secret three-S club, mum’s the word. Like they say on the hardcourt: no harm, no foul.

There is no denying this winter has been a horrible one for Franklin County deer, at least in the western half I’m most familiar with. Whitetails do poorly on hard, crusty, treacherous snow, which allows pursuing coyotes the advantage of staying on top while quickly exhausting a hoofed, fleeing deer, breaking through. Not a pretty sight, forest slaughter; blood everywhere, patches of hair, hide and hair, a hoof, a naked ribcage or hind quarter, maybe a head or an ear, coyote scat, not much else. Murder and mayhem, that’s what it is, among the most brutal sort, akin to a 16th century English execution, disemboweled, drawn and quartered, a gruesome statement on the forest floor.

Coyotes have a big edge this time of year with deer entering their weakest physiological state, winter fat-reserves thin, high-protein food scarce; old, young and pregnant most vulnerable. Throw in the hard, icy surface and it’s much worse. When chasing a weakened deer, coyotes will often semi-circle and drive it toward a large frozen pond, where the pathetic animal slips and splays out immobile, awaiting a grotesque end.

With snow conditions as they now are, coyotes need no frozen impoundment. The snow is their lake, and it’s everywhere. Once the deer tires, it’s doomed to a horrid, unmerciful end. Myself, given a choice between that and the three-S solution, I’d choose the latter in a heartbeat. Short, sweet and dignified, at least that’s the objective when the trigger’s squeezed. And even if death isn’t instant, it’s still more humane than the one the victim delivers.

Is that what they call “frontier justice?” I guess so.

Be Honest About Coyotes, Will Ya?

I caught it too late, a missed telephone message responding to a short narrative about a deer that had been killed by coyotes up the road from my home a month ago, one that dovetails nicely with fresher news about deer mortality north of here, in Vermont, where experts are concerned about the effects this winter will have on their herd. So why not touch on both subjects and take a swipe at “the fellas,” to boot?

Sounds like a plan on this gray day, annoying white stuff looming.

First, the telephone message. I happened across it last week at work while going through more recent stuff about the passing of a friend. A Greenfield lawyer wanted to tell me about a second deer-kill in my neighborhood, a more brazen act. The deer had been tackled and partially devoured on a neighbor’s driveway. The caller left the name of a colleague who knew more. I contacted the source to see what he knew. The answer was, not much, but he did confirm that a deer had been killed on a neighbor’s driveway, that the neighbor had chased off coyotes eating it, then dragged the carcass away from his yard.

Not surprisingly, the coyote activity I routinely heard at night during cold, crusty late January had been productive. Apparently, that pathetic deer had attempted to escape by heading for civilization, hoping the coyotes would back off. No such luck. Coyotes are smart. They learn to coexist with humans, operate when activity is light in residential neighborhoods. They move in when the lights are out, seeking food, be its cats, garbage or both. If they rummage around Boston suburbia, then what’s the chance that they’ll shy away from the Greenfield Meadows? Slim to none, especially with fresh, tasty red meat in sight.

Moving to Vermont, well, if you think the winter here was bad for deer, it was worse in the Green Mountain State, where wildlife biologists are prepared for the worst. According to Dr. Shawn Haskell, Vermont’s deer project leader, conditions forward will dictate antlerless-permit recommendations for the fall deer season.

”Once again, western Vermont has maintained less snow than the rest of the state, at least until mid-February,” Dr. Haskell said. ”Predictions of a cold dry winter seem about half-right. It has been quite cold but we have received lots of snow. It could be worse. Much of the state experienced 20-30 inches of snowmelt in December. Had that not occurred, the deer might already be in trouble.”

Haskell says winter conditions in late March and April are especially critical for deer, which is true here as well. By then, they will have burned off most of their fat reserves and will become weak and vulnerable. Frigid temperatures or persistent deep snow can weaken and kill them, one way or another. Adult deer survive severe winter conditions better than fawns. Although adult females may survive until mid-April, their body condition is probably depleted enough by the time they drop fawns four to 10 weeks later that they have too little energy to produce the milk needed for twins. So, not only do difficult winters reduce the yearling fawn crop, they also increase spring fawn mortality.

Deer maintain a reduced metabolism during winter, conserving energy while moving and feeding less. Consistent harassment by predators changes the formula and causes mortality. All dog breeds can be guilty, and chase-related deaths occur even when deer are not caught.

State authorities are quick to caution dog owners that free-roaming pets chasing deer can be shot. They rarely mention coyotes. Although I am no coyote hater, I find it irritating that wildlife officials try to deny the impact they have on northern New England’s deer herds. We’re told that domestic dogs can chase and kill healthy deer, but that coyotes prey on the sick and injured. Simple logic will tell you that pet dogs are no match for their wild cousins as hunters. So why don’t our wildlife officials admit it? Do they think we’re stupid?

It’s institutional dishonesty. Any discussion about canine predation of deer should start with wild and include domestic.

Tell it like it is, fellas. That’s all we ask.

Coyotes are the most efficient large-game predators in our woods. And unless cougars and wolves return, that’s not going to change.

Mad Meg theme designed by BrokenCrust for WordPress © | Top