On Seasons: Winter
Thinking, tracking, fishing
Thinking
I’ve been quiet; I’ve been thoughtful. I’ve hiked, I’ve fished, I’ve observed.
Planning has been done. Not too much, mostly planting seeds.
There have been days when I felt a reflex to write and publish something. There weren’t any good words. Bundles of drafts. Good ideas. Nothing finished.
I’ve been planning my teaching season. This year: sausage making, wild game cooking, turkey hunting and guiding, hunter safety and in the fall—grouse hunting. I’m taking on less than last year, making room for new challenges and mental space. As a first year rookie guide, I know I need extra time to prepare.
I’m starting a series of potlucks at our local Grange hall. I want to enhance community connection through food: food made to be shared from local, regional and wild ingredients. I’m excited for the potential; I’m trying to temper my expectations. I’ve had success getting friends together to eat for many years. But the goal now is to connect strangers. They live right next to each other or down the street, but aren’t really connected. There is resistance. I can feel it. But I will move forward and be confident in the goal. Little steps will be needed.
Learning
I gave more time to volunteer work last year than I should have. I ended 2025 feeling some burnout. My expectations got the better of me. I thought I’d have built more connections, made more friends, felt more satisfaction in the effort. I set myself up.
There were so many positives. Tangible results, great classes, delicious food, goals met. People learned, developed new skills, cultivated their curiosity.
I’m still not sure what I expected beyond the real. But I’m certain that I felt empty in ways I didn’t expect. Time will pass and more understanding will come. For now I’m embracing the uncertainties of moving forward on my path. I will continue.
Tracking
Stories in the snow become more vivid each year. I see tracks and I see potential stories. My years in the field have shaped my vocabulary, my thinking, my awareness.
The tracks tell a narrative of speed, direction, urgency or ease, fight or flight. The more I read tracks, the clearer and more compelling the stories become. Tracks are the language of our relations who don’t speak.
Snow allows us to develop our reading skills in ways we can’t with dry ground. I’m deeply grateful to live where we still have dependable snow each winter allowing my tracking to improve each winter. My feelings change each winter; the joy remains in every walk in the fields and woods. For me cold winters stratify my seeds for the growing season ahead.
Here in Maine, it’s often said that if the bird is on the ground, it’s a “pahtridge,” but off the ground it’s a grouse. Where I live they are shy, only by their tracks do I know we share this land.
Grouse apparently can get enough to eat in 10 minutes a day in winter. They roost the rest of the time. At times they are known to dive into the snow and “roost” there until they go out to feed again. But here and there, when the conditions are just so, they walk. And so I know they are here and doing their thing. Their feet are adaptable and grow “feathers” for the winter that allow them to float on top of the snow vs sinking.
Wild turkeys are big birds. Here in the east, they are by far our heaviest bird. I’m often surprised how deeply they sink in the snow. It must be tiring to post-hole all day.
While they can fly with impressive grace for short distances, they search for food on foot. Winters like this year have got to be tough. We’ve had deep snow without any major thaw/freeze to firm it up since December. Doggo was sinking up to his belly on his off-trail forays today. It’s hard to imagine being a turkey and walking in it every day. But they persist. I’ve been seeing them along melting road edges this week. Tough.
Who is out the making the tracks I study?
Deer, moose, bobcats and lynx. Fisher, the foxes, minks and pine martens. Of course the squirrels and mice.
Here in Maine, there are only 3 true hibernating mammals: woodchucks, bats and jumping meadow mice. The rest are out to one degree or another all winter.
Porcupines, skunks and raccoons are active but maintain limited activity, especially during deep snow and extreme cold. They do move around during breaks in the normal weather pattern. They all have relatively short legs and compact tracks. They don’t tend to travel far.
Deep in the woods I see a few two-legged feathered friend tracks: crows, ravens, grouse and turkeys. Sometimes I see where an owl has swept in for a catch.
Doggo likes to come tracking too. Though he is more likely to run through the tracks before I get to them. I guess he reads the stories faster than me…
Ice Fishing
Being out on frozen lakes and ponds is a thing. It’s a discipline; a test of meddle. Wet hands and wind make fingers of stone, quickly. The prevailing north and northwest winds we here in central Maine remove heat from your neck so fast it is hard to grasp. Hoods are good. Neck gaiters too.
Because your hands will get wet, especially setting traps, I’ve found using a hand muff is the best way to keep re-warming hands. Gloves and mittens work, but are hard to put on and take off once your hands get wet. The hand muff is much better at dealing with this. Putting heater packs in makes the experience even better.
Setting up gets you warm: drilling holes, dragging your sled through drifted transformed snow, dipping for bait and setting your traps generate some heat.
Then you wait.
And you don’t stay warm some days.
And you wait some more.
Flags don’t equal fish. Unlike rod fishing, fishing with traps is basically hand lining. You have to set the hook with your arms; mistakes and lost fish are common. It’s fishing in a pure form, when you get a good hook set, you bring in the line with your arms. Exasperating or rewarding. Nothing is certain until your fish is above the hole. [Even then, fish have a way of getting back in the water…]
Sometimes you fish with a short little ice rod and reel. I like to drill a hole inside my shelter when I set it up and use the rod there. It’s more active than waiting for flags. And here where I live you can have 5 lines or 4 traps and 1 rod. The rod fishing keeps me active while I wait for flags on the traps. For catching panfish that school like perch and crappie, rod fishing is the way to go.
Likely I have a better bite/landing ratio with the rod than the traps. And it keeps your mind on what you’re doing.
On good days there’ll be flags often enough to keep you busy, and warmish. On average days and especially slow days, you’ll want some shelter. Maybe a heater. I have a folding shelter and small heater. Some people have shanties with wood stoves and cooktops and benches and cots.
You can make it as complicated or as simple as you like. I don’t have a snow machine or ATV, I like to walk out. So to bring all my gear and a heater and a shelter in wind blown snow is a ruck. A serious one if you have some distance to go. This year the ice is so good that many lakes have plowed roads. I’ve driven my Tacoma on the ice once. It makes me a little nervous, even with 20” of ice. It’s a great and comfortable shelter; of course I got skunked that day.
When fish are caught the day is transformed. 2 hours of no-action fishing is forgotten as fast as the first good fish is iced. I’ve had more than a few days this year with just one fish. They’re all good memories looking back. I don’t remember or reflect on the quiet hours, just the caught fish. And maybe the spot where I caught it.
I cook nearly all my trout and salmon whole, bones in. Lately, I’ve been wrapping in parchment with some sea salt, white wine vinegar and a bit of fancy butter. 18 minutes at 375F. Perfect. Then I carefully pull out the spine. On my best days I barely damage the filets [see above.] Simple. Good.
Lou Tamposi came out with me in late February for his first time fishing on the ice. It was a refreshing change to fish with a good partner. I spend a lot of time fishing alone or with my doggo because there is a lake near my cabin. Most of my fishing buddies live a ways off and aren’t as flexible on time as I am.
I’ll write more about our outing in a future post, but what has stayed with me is his enthusiasm, mad skills cooking whitetail steaks on the ice in the wind and how much fun we had. Note-to-self: get out more with others. Makes the waiting times a lot better.
I got out to fish another favorite local pond that doesn’t see too many winter anglers. I managed to land a nice fish and cooked it up in a parchment wrap with some butter and DIY wine vinegar. Divine.
There is up to 24” of ice around my local spots. I’m hoping to get some more days in before my teaching schedule starts to pick up this month. And in mid-March I’ll also have my hands full with a new family member.
Puppies
Well, we all love puppies.
But sometime around the 18th of March. This guy is coming to join me and my doggo at the cabin:
So, that’s what’s been happening during my quiet time: some thinking, some fishing, getting outside and getting ready for a puppy. Feels good to get a post out, even if my writing still feels disconnected. More soon.
As always, thank you for reading my food pandering and my wanderings away from supermarkets and into local and wild food worlds. It inspires me that people follow me and subscribe. Know that I am honored by your attention and feel blessed too.
Start with whole foods and cook them yourself. Or sucker your children into cooking like my mom did. Eat slowly, together mostly and deeply enjoy your food—no matter what the rest of the world thinks. Food is life.
Good cooking, good eating, good loving - K. Paul
Happy cooking - Jacques Pépin
What a round up! Couldn’t agree more on the tracking section — what a blessing this winter has been for reading stories.
Had a blast on the ice with you — already looking forward to next time!
Loved this piece John, the pictures, the ponderings, the lessons, all of it. The picture of the haul you had with Dale, holy smokes!
The unfinished drafts really resonated with me too. Always a sign for me to get out and experience more before potentially coming back to (who knows when).