It was Tuesday, the last day of my spring mini-vacation, and I had it bad. You know, the urge to roam the forest. Yes, there was yard work to do, but I pretended there wasn't. Very early in the day, the girls were gone and the dog was asleep when I went for the topo map. I needed a new challenge...being a long time camper, hiker, and byrd huntr, I have walked countless trails in my home state in the pursuit of those activities and also for no reason. I studied every line on the topo map, nothing, under water, been there, too close, too far. Finally, a dotted red line emerged, winding through the middle of the Chengwatana State Forest. I could get there in 90 minutes!Hundreds of square miles of mostly overlooked near-wilderness along the east central border. I had never hiked that particular trail, so I grabbed my gear, left a note and map coordinates for DW and headed out. I know the area, so I opted for my full rucksack instead of my standard PSK. Exactly 10 pounds of everything I would need to survive in the boreal forest. It was 80+ degrees, a little hot for a northern boy, but the sun felt good and the sky was the color of topaz gems with whispy mares tails as the silvery setting. In my pockets and belt, I had my Leatherman Wave, a mini Bic, a brass compass, my walnut walking stick, and a 9" Remington belt knife. I carefully studied the topo map and got my bearings and walked for miles along the forest tote road, at one point seeing a bald eagles nest. A little farther down the trail, I saw a majestic swan floating in a reflective pool. It didn't seem real. I came upon a large pool of water that spanned the trail, not at all unusual for a boreal forest trail. I looked to see what other creaturss had passed this way by the tracks in the mud. I have to admit that even after all these years, the sight of large fresh wolf tracks still send a shiver up my spine. There were also the characteristic spoor of the wolfe, full of deer hair, and the tracks of a young doe in that mud. I wondered if she made it to her feeding grounds. I continued along the trail now several miles from my truck. There was none else around, normally a good thing, but years of childhood conditioning are not easily forgotten, and I walked with silent apprehension. The wide brim of my canvas river guide hat helped direct sounds to my ears, and I could hear some commotion in the woods; crows, and yes wolves. I thought I saw a flash of grey 50 yards into the bush, and I instinctively checked my knife. It was there, but only one fang against so many. The yipping and growling seemed to be getting louder. I stood for a minute. There was so much trail left to explore, and a few hours of daylight to do it. Would I let a few wolves get in the way? The sounds became more ominous; one of them had scented me, not a difficult task in 80 degree weather. Summoning my common sense, I reluctantly turned back. As I walked away, the sounds became less, and I started looking at my surroundings again. Myriad bright-hued butterflies flitted around like so much self propelled confetti, while birds in their spring plumage sang their ancestral songs. I peered into a deep pool of bog stained water and saw hundreds of creek chubs. Life in the water, life in the air, life springing from the earth, life is good, and I'll be back.

I would love to go on a hike like that!! I live in nothing but flatland!! I would bring a blanks pistol though backed up with some type of small caliber rifle or pistol.

Great post! It makes me yearn for the Great Outdoors!

Sounds like you had a great time.

As a hunter who walks a lot, I usually have a firearm when I encounter wolves or coyotes. I have never been attacked, but it really makes you think when confronted with the possibility of having to fight them off with only a walking stick and a sheath knife.

in ten days i hope to be pulling my canoe,alone,into a hidden back bay camp that last year was covered in wolf scat.some new,some just hair and bones.sleeping where the big guys call home takes my mind back eons.

Although encounters are rare and attack very unlikely, theres a reason that our ancestors feared wolves and big cats. We have 'em both, along with plenty of coyotes that sometimes get a little too big for their britches (depending on where you are). I hope you are bringing an old camp gun with you. A used single-shot shotgun can be had for $80. With a handful of steel duck loads, its well worth the price and the 5-6 pounds in your pack. In all my years of backcountry camping I've never shot anything defensively, but I definately sleep better. Enjoy your trip to the wild.

Coyotes? I see them in the neighborhood when walking the dog, or on the bike path down by the harbor. I hear the pack's chorus when I step outside to get the morning paper. Sometimes I don't even have a sheath knife, only a walking stick, to fend them off. A walking stick, BTW, is a very effective weapon.

On one of my first hikes many years ago, I found mountain lion tracks covering mine as I retraced my steps on the descent. I have never had an incident, or any problems whatever. They do happen, but they are pretty rare. There are far more likely dangers out there in the woods and mountains.

Very true about the coyotes, they are useually just harmless mangey scavengers. But like any canine, when they run in packs they get braver. Don't forget about the incident discussed on this forum a few months ago.

www.foxnews.com/world/.../canadian-teenager-dies-coyote-attack/


I keep a watchful eye on them when I am walking out in their range.

Early in my teens, I was walking one day on a rural dirt road between an alfalfa field and a berm, and noticed a coyote, behind and to my left in the alfalfa. A minute later, I looked again and found that it was closer; when I stopped it stopped, and when I was walking it was closing in on me. When I turned to look at it, it was seemingly entranced by the alfalfa, trying to look like it hadn't noticed me at all. This went on for about half a mile.

Why would a coyote be so desperate as to stalk a 13-year-old, even if alone and more than a mile from any other human? It occurred to me that the coyote might be rabid or have some other problem that kept it from realizing how much bigger I was than it.

It turns out that I was walking to the rifle range, and I had a loaded rifle on its sling. The coyote did not pose an immediate threat and so I had no intention of shooting, but I did unsling the rifle.

As soon as the rifle's silhouette broke away from the lines of my body the coyote took off, never to be seen again. Whatever it wanted with me, it discovered that there was urgent business to attend to elsewhere when the rifle came into my hands.