MICHAELMAS DAISIES, AND BUDDY AND I GET IN THE MIDDLE OF A BEAR HUNT

NEW ENGLAND ASTER, AKA MICHAELMAS DAISY...

...CLOSEUP

 LOGGING ROAD IN THE MOQUA BARRENS

BEAR HUNTER'S TRUCK

Sunday, 9:00 AM.  61 degrees F, wind SW, calm with occasional gusts.  The sky is clear with haze over the lake.  The humidity is 90% and the barometer is still trending slowly downward.  It looks pretty much like we will have a repeat of yesterday's fair and warm weather.

   The New England Asters, Aster novae-anglia, seem late to me this year, but according to legend they have burst into bloom exactly on time, today.  In England this aster is known as Michaelmas daisy, because it traditionally blossoms on Michaelmas, the feast of St. Michael and All Angels.  Historically, Michaelmas is an important feast day in both Catholic and Anglican (thus also Episcopal) tradition. In early Christianity, St. Michael the Archangel was revered as God's appointed protector of His earthly creations, and honored as the angel who defeated Satan in his war with God.   September 29th is also important in Germanic husbandry traditions. In any case, our garden's New England Asters are blooming right on time.

   The weather was so beautiful yesterday we decided to go down the boondocks backroads, ostensibly looking for grouse but mainly looking at the glorious fall colors.  Far out on Buterfield Road (really a fire lane) in the Moqua Barrens I decided to take Buddy down a woodland trail.  It was really too warm to run the dog or myself very hard, but we decided to give it a go.  About ten minutes into our quest I heard a vehicle roaring toward us down the narrow trail.  It skidded to a stop while I was still reigning in the dog and I was a little upset.  It turned out it was a young guy with a truck full of bear dogs, some in  crates, some hanging out windows, while one clung to the roof.  Everyone seemed to be having such a good time I couldn't be angry.  

   They (dogs and boy) were trying to get ahead of the bear the hounds were trailing, so off they roared.  Buddy and I went on a bit further, but pretty sure any grouse that might have been along the trail were deep in the oak woods by now.  Shortly, we heard the baying of hounds on the trail of the bear. They would be a long way behind the bear, so I got to thinking the bear might burst its cover at any time.  As the baying of the hounds got louder and louder I also got to thinking it might not be a good idea for myself or more particularly Buddy  to be in the middle of all this commotion, so we started back to the truck at a pretty good pace.  When the hounds were parallel with us and probably a hundred yards or so from us in the woods I called Buddy to heal.  He did so and stayed there.  I think he was a little scared.  I fumbled around in my pants pocket for the two rifled  slugs I always carry with me (probably illegal, so don't tell anyone) and replaced the birdshot shells in the shotgun with them, just in case we got into trouble.

  By the time we got back to Joan and our own truck, bear dog trucks were flying down the sandy Buterfield Road trying to find the bear.  When we got back to paved Star Route all of the half dozen trucks, with I don't know how many dogs, were charging back the way we had all just come from. 

   My guess is that the bear turned in a big circle and was leading the dogs right back to where they had first found it.  That was going to be one tired and thirsty pack of hounds, but it all looked like a whole lot of fun, maybe even for the bear, if he managed to loose the hounds.  It did manage to raise my pulse rate a bit as well.