State Game Lands 232

In The Public Domain - PA Game Land 232

By Rob Hilliard

Like millions of other Americans, I have a fascination with genealogy and family history. I’ve spent countless hours poring over the moldering pages of century-old books and chasing down fruitless leads. As always, the questions far outnumber the answers.

However, the bits and scraps that I’ve managed to piece together have led to one interesting fact: virtually every branch of my family tree extends back to the 1700s or early 1800s here in western Pennsylvania. In fact, until my sisters and I grew up and left the farm, the distance my family had migrated in the last 200 years could be measured in feet rather than miles.
I have always felt a close connection to the land, one that most hunters and other outdoor enthusiasts no doubt share. But knowing that seven generations of my family walked the same land and took their sustenance from it in the same way that I do today has helped to reshape how I look at our region. At the same time, it has raised a whole new set of questions. How much has the forest changed since my ancestors’ time? How were they able to overcome the staggering obstacles around them? What made them cling tenaciously to the very edge of the known world when so many others moved back across the Allegheny Mountains? In short, what were they like?

Ruminating on such thoughts has actually changed the way I spend my time outdoors. I’ve begun to move further away from the technological advances that make hunting today simpler and more comfortable. I often remind myself that deer, turkey, and bears were killed just as dead before the invention of Gore-Tex and and Thinsulate as they are now.

This change in attitude led inevitably to the purchase of a flintlock muzzleloader for deer hunting. Although I recognize that the CVA Plainsman rifle I carry is still far more technologically advanced in construction than those used by my ancestors 200 years ago, loading and firing it is still the same process that they used as they tried to bring wild game to the hearth. Using the flintlock in my own efforts to put dinner on the table has given me some guidance in my efforts to answer the question of what my ancestors were like. Judging from my experience, they were thin. Very thin.

Despite a litany of misfires and just plain old misses with the smokepole the first few times I hunted with it, I remained intent using it to take a deer. So when I talked to Pennsylvania Game Commission (PGC) land manager Doug Dunkerly about deer hunting hot spots, I had the flintlock in mind. Dunkerly immediately brought up a new tract of land that the PGC had acquired in Washington County, saying it was “loaded with deer.” Music to my ears.

The property is broken into several tracts in western Washington County, but they’re mostly located in the area roughly bounded by Rt. 844 to the north, Green Cove Road to the east, Rt. 231 to the west, and Buffalo Creek to the south. The land was obtained in a somewhat controversial land swap that also involved Allegheny Power and the Washington County commissioners. As a result of the deal, the state would acquire about 4000 acres of new game lands in exchange for 1,270 acres of existing State Game Land (SGL) 117. What made the swap controversial to many hunters is that much of the 4,000 acres being acquired was already open to public hunting.

Dunkerly pointed out, though, that the ability of the PGC to manage the property for wildlife habitat would be hugely increased once it was an SGL. In fact, they had already gotten a head start this summer by spending $68,000 of funding from the National Wild Turkey Federation on about 100 acres of brush clearing, warm season grass planting, and food plot creation. Dunkerly hopes that efforts like this one will continue as the new property, which will likely become an extension of the existing (but tiny) SGL 232.

Not that this property needs a whole lot of help. With a mix of about 40 percent scrub/shrub, 30 percent forest, 15 percent grassland, 15 percent cropland, and the occasional wetland for good measure, the new area holds everything from woodcock to deer. It is, in Dunkerly’s assessment, “a gorgeous piece of property.”

As I rolled toward the little hamlet of Taylorstown early on an October morning for an early-season muzzleloader hunt, I saw little to dispute this. The autumn color, numerous 1800s farmhouses, a covered bridge, and the historic remnants of the old National Road did little to shake my self-induced fantasy of traveling back in time. The downside of this quaint setting, though, is that if you need supplies, or even a sandwich, you better get it in the city of Washington, which is located about eight miles east. Otherwise, like me, you’ll be settling for chips and a pop at the Taylorstown Country Store.

Also keep in mind that, for now, there are no familiar SGL signs marking the property. Just look for ones that say something like “Open to Hunting.”

Dunkerly had suggested an area just east of Taylorstown where he thought I might have some luck finding deer. The deer he was right about. The luck was an entirely different story. When I stepped from the truck at one of the numerous abandoned farms that constitute the new game lands, a driving rain -- the kiss of death for flintlock hunters -- splashed my cheeks. Then, as I walked toward my spot in an open field perched atop a hill, I spooked a small group of deer that ran off ahead of me. Not a great start to the day, but I was sure things would get better.

By 8 a.m., I had missed a doe. The circumstances of the miss aren’t important (OK, I just don’t want to talk about it), but what followed taught me something else about pioneer life. The deer stood staring at me as I tried to reload my rifle. Now, I’ve read that some early frontiersmen were able to reload their rifles in the time it took them to run across a 100-yard field. They needed this skill when battling the hostile Indians of the Ohio Valley. But the way I stumbled, fumbled, and bumbled my way through reloading while facing down a deer -- which was unlikely to charge me and attempt to bash my brains in with a tomahawk -- gave me a profound new respect for the woodsmen’s skill.

The rest of the morning passed uneventfully and by lunchtime my clothes and my powder were both drenched, so I packed it in for the day. I had seen quite a few deer that morning, so early in the pre-dawn of the next Saturday (the last day of the early muzzleloader season) I was back in the same spot.

Stop me if you’ve heard this one before, but by 8 a.m. I had missed a doe. When damp powder (darned rain) caused a misfire on my first attempt, a 40-yard standing shot turned into 90-yard running shot that I missed badly. The flintlock rifle that I was so proud to carry a week ago was only a few shaky seconds from being wrapped like a Christmas bow around the nearest oak tree. How did those pioneers ever eat meat at all?

An hour later, another flash-in-the-pan misfire was enough to send me back to the truck in disgust. Two consecutive Saturdays of rain had washed out my chances at re-creating history, at least until the late muzzleloader season.

While learning that “keep your powder dry” is more than just an expression, I also learned quite a bit about the habitat value at this new SGL. Deer, as was painfully obvious, were plentiful. Also, Dunkerly mentioned that the site has a good population of pheasants that have been “reproducing fabulously” and that the PGC has a designated Rabbit Management Area on the property. He also noted that there were already “lots of ducks” and that the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service will be working with the state to create 35- to 40 additional acres of wetlands on this property over the next two years.

What Dunkerly inexplicably failed to mention were turkeys. New SGL 232 has turkeys like my lawn has dandelions. Within a span of only about seven hours in the field, I counted roughly 150 turkeys at the site. There were turkeys in the fields, in the woods, on the roads, even perched on a steel powerline tower. If you’re looking for a new spot for a little springtime action, well, I’ll race you there.

Besides me, you may not have a lot of competition for space on the new SGL -- at least not yet. Dunkerly said that, despite the large herd, hunting pressure during deer season is fairly light. They also had only “decent” turnout for a recent youth pheasant hunt held there. However, the PGC does expect that hunting pressure will pick up as the property is integrated into the SGL system and more people become aware of it.

I know for certain that this hunter will be going back regularly, starting with the late muzzleloader season. I’ll be wrapped in a wool jacket; collar turned up against the January wind, cursing the snow and damp that threaten to turn my black powder to mush. But of course, I won’t be the first to do so. I imagine that’s been going on in these parts for a couple of hundred years.