Mammals and More

This entry describes the wildlife we met at the lake

We had an amazing ecosystem at Little Bass Lake. The lake was spring-fed and pristine, home to an abundance of fish and aquatic life. The mature eighty-acre forest was home to woodland creatures. There was a swampy area at the west end, a place for the marsh dwellers.

You need only be a keen observer to take in the wonders of nature. This was Katie’s biology lab, the ideal learning environment. It was wondrous for us all.

Deer

You can’t talk about northern Michigan’s nature without talking about deer. We had our share.

During the winter months when the lake was iced over, several neighbors provided feed for the deer. One resident brought in large hay bales and placed them on our access road near the eighty-acre woods. Another neighbor, Mark, had a spreader set on a timer to scatter corn at dusk.

If you were on the ice late in the day, you’d see the deer start to emerge from the woods. Soon there’d be twenty to thirty racing to Mark’s to feed. It was like clockwork and an amazing sight.

It was also a signal to us fishermen. The bite was going to start. Our lake had an evening bite around dusk. Often as the deer loped across the lake, we’d start catching fish. The deer signaled feeding time for the fish. More than once during this short window, we’d fill our limit.

One year Tom and his friend Dan were bow hunting. Just before dark, Tom shot one—a solid hit with a blood trail. They tracked it into the night. When you’re tracking, you lose your sense of direction. Even the eighty acres look very different in the dark. Tom and Dan were lost.

Fortunately, Tom had his cell phone and a signal. He called Mark, who came out with his four-wheeler and rescued them. They found the deer the next day. Of course they were teased viciously about getting lost. Now they have GPS.

Among hunters there’s a story: When lost in the woods, you’re supposed to shoot three times into the air to signal you need help. The story goes a hunter was lost in the woods. When he was found, they asked, “Why didn’t you shoot into the air?” He replied, “I did, but then I ran out of arrows.”

Deer hunter humor.

The Big Buck

Supposedly there were big bucks in our woods. I’d never seen one. Lots of spikes and does. That changed one fall day.

I was looking across the lake and saw a disturbance on the water. On closer inspection I saw a massive twelve-point buck swimming across the lake toward our shore. I ran and got my camera. When he got thirty yards from shore, he saw me. He turned and swam back.

I watched for ten minutes. Finally, he reached the north shore. Exhausted, he got out of the water and stood there. He was majestic. I could see his breath in the cold fall air.

I wondered why he’d decided to swim across the lake. I suspect he was fleeing a hunter. I watched him until he turned and sprang off. I wished him well. I hope he made it through hunting season and sired some offspring.

I Save a Deer

I’m not a deer hunter. It never appealed to me. I did, however, have an up-close encounter with one.

I was driving down a gravel road to a nearby store. On each side were deep ditches filled with water. It was early March. Something caught my eye. I stopped.

A young doe was in the middle of the ditch, stuck in the mud. It couldn’t free itself. I had to help.

I got out and walked along until I found a place to cross. I was leery about approaching her—I’d heard stories how violent deer could be. But it was clear this girl was exhausted.

I edged closer and slipped my arms under her belly. She let me pick her up, freeing her from the mud. She couldn’t have weighed sixty pounds. Once on shore I set her down. Her legs were numb. She was wobbly.

Should I put her in the truck? I worried that once she warmed up, she might go wild inside the vehicle. I made my decision. I was ten minutes from the store. I marked where she was. On the return trip, if she was still there, I’d take her home.

When I came back, she was gone. I hope she survived the spring. At a minimum I helped her survive the day.

Aquatic Mammals

We had muskrats patrolling the shores, slipping under docks, doing what muskrats do.

We had two special visitors over the years: an otter and a beaver.

The otter was a fishing machine. We’d see him floating on his back eating fish. I heard they can decimate a fish population. Fortunately, after a week he decided to leave for greener pastures. I was happy to see him go.

Our other visitor was the beaver. They’re rarely seen up here. This fellow was fun to watch swimming across the lake, often slapping his tail on the water when startled. I think he had designs of damming our little outlet stream.

Though he was fun to watch, he posed a problem. He started attacking neighbors’ trees. It’s amazing how quickly beavers can fell a tree.

I would have preferred to relocate him, but someone took things into their own hands. He was eliminated. I was saddened but understood. He could have done irreversible damage to the mature trees along the water’s edge. Some visitors are not welcome.

Cuff had his muskrat experience. One man on the lake was an old-timer trained in small engine repair. He was our go-to guy for chainsaw, mower, and leaf blower repair. He trapped muskrats. There’s still a market for their hides. My dad had trapped them as a boy to make money during the depression. I remember his stories.

I had a chainsaw that needed work. Cuff came with me to Bob’s garage. We walked through the door. Cuff looked up—he was facing four muskrats hung by their tails. He let out a whoop and jumped back. I’m sure he had to change his shorts when he got home.

Another city dweller.

Turtles

We were well acquainted with the painted turtles. We’d caught and numbered many. It was a favorite pastime for Katie. We enjoyed seeing them sunning themselves on logs or swimming by, identified by the numbers on their backs.

I’m certain by now when they heard the little paddleboat, they were saying, “Dive! The girl with the net is coming.”

The painted turtles gave Katie another biology lesson. In the spring they’d leave the lake and head up our driveway to the gravel pit. There they’d find a sandy spot to lay their eggs. We’d watch the mother dig her hole, lay the eggs, and cover them with sand. The warm sun would incubate them. Empty shells several weeks later signaled they had hatched.

We also had huge snapping turtles at the lake. They were only seen occasionally. A telltale sign of a snapper would be a stream of bubbles on the water’s surface, like a scuba diver. These snappers were aggressive hunters. More than once, I’d see a mother goose start with a flock of six goslings. Slowly that number would decrease. The snappers would come up under the goslings and that was it.

These snappers could get large. Often their shells would be larger than the bottom of a five-gallon bucket. And their jaws—they could snap a stick as big around as a broomstick handle. They were not to be trifled with.

One time Bob Norin allowed a man he met at Charlie’s Bar to set turtle traps to thin out the snappers. The story goes he got three to five big ones each day of the seven-day season. He’d make soup and would sell the remaining meat to restaurants in Chicago. I hear it’s good. We were happy to see the population culled. We never had a human-snapping turtle incident. We wanted to keep it that way.

Frogs and Snakes

On our first visit to look at the cottage, we saw hundreds of little micro toads in the lawn. It was a good sign of a healthy environment. Each year we’d see their numbers again, though I suspect the little guys were easy pickings for snakes and birds.

We had bullfrogs with their deep voices calling out in the evenings, joined by the little peepers in the wood ponds. A regular choir. There were leopard frogs and tree frogs as well.

When we were first at the lake, we had trouble with snakes taking up residence on our dock. Once the eagles arrived, the snake numbers decreased. Eagles like snake dinners. The balance of nature was playing out.

Squirrels and Chipmunks

We had no shortage of squirrels or “micro bears”—chipmunks. Most of the squirrels were of the fox or gray variety. On winter evenings we occasionally saw flying squirrels at our bird feeder.

The red squirrels were a nuisance. There’s a reason there’s an open season on them. They’re cute but destructive as hell. We had our own personal war.

Things came to a head one day. First one gnawed a hole in the exterior wall of my sauna. If that wasn’t bad enough, when Barb would take the laundry down to the basement, the little devil would jump out, stand on his hind legs, and try to keep Barb from going in.

That was the last straw. I borrowed a pellet gun and began thinning them out. Finally, they got the message. They followed the good neighbor policy. They took up residence at my good neighbor Cuff’s house.

Micro bears. We all loved the chipmunks, especially Trixie. They were entertaining little scamps. They’d fill their cheeks with sunflower seeds to the point of exploding, then add another couple. Then it was off to a woodpile, unload, and come back for more.

As a special treat we’d let Trixie chase them. She never caught one, but she instilled fear in many.

The Others

There were other woodland creatures we knew were there but seldom saw. In the evenings we’d hear coyotes howling. We worried for Trixie and Miffy.

We also had fox. Occasionally we’d see one, but they stayed out of sight and avoided humans when they could.

The neighbors had encounters with a black bear. Usually, he’d raid the bird feeders. They said he was a big boy. We never saw him, but we did see the damage he did to the feeders.

Of course, no woodland would be complete without raccoons and possums. We didn’t like the former but appreciated the latter for their tick eating. Popular opinion is they’ll eat five thousand ticks per season. Studies don’t bear this out, but we figured they’re harmless and maybe they do some good.

Our lake had a healthy wildlife population. Over the years they entertained and sometimes amazed us, and sometimes frustrated us. But on balance we all got along well.

They were there before us.

Katie’s Biology Lab

The best part: Katie got a glimpse of what it was like for me as a boy growing up in the country. No iPhone, no internet, no video games. The great outdoors provi