Warden Tales: Master Officer Foster Harrell and Jet

During the course of my career, I have observed wildlife officers utilize many different modes of unconventional transportation to get into the areas where they need to be.  In my early days, an officer had a Honda Trail 70 that he would throw in the trunk of his car to use on gated Forest Service roads.  A few officers have given mountain bikes a spin.  ATVs have been issued for years and get a good work out.  Canoes and kayaks help in shallow water or when stealth is necessary.  Forest Harrell rode a horse.

Foster D. Harrell
from Wildlife in North Carolina - 1967

Foster D. Harrell was employed by the North Carolina Wildlife Resources Commission on September 1, 1961.  In February 1962, he was drafted into the U.S. Army and spent two years in the military.  He returned to work with the NCWRC in 1964 and was assigned to Swain County.  Harrell ended up in Henderson County where he was responsible for miles of trout streams, many of which required a good deal of foot-patrol.

“I remember when Foster got his horse from Trout Unlimited.  Jim Geouge, Sgt. Lloyd Higgins and I were checking fishing on the Davidson River near the hatchery [currently a part of the Pisgah Education Center].  We ran into a Pisgah TU member and he informed Lloyd that they [TU] had just bought Foster a horse to use when patrolling Turkey Pen and the South Mills River.  Sgt. Higgins wasn’t too pleased about that and took off down Hwy. 276.  He was tapping the steering wheel and saying, ‘We’ll damn see about that.’  Lloyd dropped me and Jim off before heading to Foster’s house at Mill’s River.  He was too late – Foster had already brought Jet home.”

Retired Master Officer Rick Stone

Foster Harrell ID card
Courtesy of NCWRC Lt. Ben Meyer

Members of the Land-of-Sky Chapter of Trout Unlimited in Asheville set out to help Harrell get into the backcountry areas.  Unlike the “put and take” streams where trout are stocked, those wilderness streams contain a sustainable population of wild trout.  Those remote locations contribute to the temptation for unscrupulous anglers to catch more than their share of fish.  The chapter raised funds over a two year period to purchase Harrell a horse to help him get into those wild areas.

Fosetr Harrell and Jet
photo by Jay Davies
from Wildlife in North Carolina - September 1984

Harrell described checking an angler in the September 1984 issue of Wildlife in North Carolina:

“The angler was totally engaged in trying to catch a trout,” said Harrell with just a hint of a smile.  “We were about 30 feet from that angler when my horse snorted and that fisherman nearly jumped out of his skin.  He probably thought he was about to be eaten by a bear.”

Master Officer Foster Harrell 

Master Officer Stone would sometimes accompany Harrell on Stone's personal horse.

I remember once we were riding horses in Turkey Pen, checking the South Mills River.  It was cold and the river was iced up around the banks.  My horse, Rocky, didn’t want to cross the river because the ice made a cracking sound when we tried to get in the water (Foster’s horse, Jet, never had a problem with the water).  We had to go about a mile and a half out of the way.  But, Foster didn’t complain.  I don’t remember writing any citations that day, but we let several folks know we were back there!”

Retired Master Officer Rick Stone

Foster Harrell retired in 1990 and moved back home to District 4.  He still shows up for firearms training and stays in touch with the local officers.

Innovation is a key trait for wildlife officers.  Many a plan has been hatched in a patrol vehicle late at night.  Those plans usually begin with, “You know what I bet would work…”  Some of those plans work great and others are the fodder for supervisors’ nightmares.  One back in the 1980s led to Foster Harrell patrolling on horseback.

A Family Tradition: Walter and Mike Edmisten

Back in the late 1980s when I was stationed in Graham County, the U.S. Forest Service got a report of a marijuana patch on a narrow ridge above Panther Creek.  It was near the end of the growing season, so they thought they stood a pretty good chance of catching the growers.  This was the front end of the declaration of war on drugs.

I spent some time in the woods with the Forest Service officers on that patch and even more time around their camp at night.  I knew Special Agent Baker Edmisten, mostly by name only.  We were sitting around the fire one night and Baker had on one of the old, green wildlife officer shirts.  I asked him about it and he said he got it from his dad.  That was a time in my career when I was more fixated on catching someone than hearing a good story with a strong dose of history.  Instead of asking about Baker’s dad, the conversation shifted to the details of the next day.

Walter Edmisten's badge
Courtesy of Mike Edmisten

Several years later, during one of my first assignments instructing in the wildlife recruit school, I heard that Baker’s nephew was in the class.  Again, I didn’t really consider asking the recruit, Mike Edmisten, any questions about his uncle or grandfather.  In fact, I had forgotten the grandfather connection.

Walter F. Edmisten was appointed Watauga County wildlife protector with the North Carolina Department of Conservation and Development’s Division of Fish and Game on June 8, 1944.  He was promoted to district supervisor in late 1949 and was a part of the second group of officers to attend the initial in-service training conducted by the newly formed N.C. Wildlife Resources Commission, graduating on April 7, 1950.

Walter Edmisten
Second row, second from the right
Chapel Hill, NC
from Wildlife in North Carolina

Courtesy of Mike Edmisten

"My grandfather retired in 1972. I was born in 1973. I never got the pleasure to see him in uniform, or talk to him after a day at work. He did share accounts of what is was like being a "Wildlife Protector" back in the day. For example: I remember him talking about a man who he caught closed season trout fishing in Ashe County. If I remember right he had to obtain an arrest warrant. When he went to get the subject, the individual threated to shoot him if he didn't leave. My "Papaw" as he was known by everybody, drew his .38 Colt revolver and told him that it wasn't worth dying over a trout. The subject was then arrested and taken before a magistrate!

Protector Salaries effective September 1, 1946
Courtesy Mike Edmisten

I remember many days as a child when he would take me to either Meat Camp Creek or the New River to trout fish. He would drop me off and tell me where he would pick me up, and how long it should take me to get to my pick up location. It seems like he was always spot on in his estimation of my arrival time! Forgot to mention that I had to catch my own night crawlers in his back yard the night before!

From Wildlife in North Carolina - 1955

Other memories include him taking me either to the tree farm to stalk rabbits or taking me to the back ridge along the New River to squirrel hunt.

My grandfather helped capture the original Mildred the Bear which was taken to Grandfather Mountain. He would take me up there every summer as a young child when I came to Boone to visit my family.

from Wildlife in North Carolina - 1970

I was about 14 or 15 years old when I first started talking to Papaw about becoming a Wildlife Officer. He was excited to know that I was interested in choosing that career path. I started college at Wayne Community College in 1994 getting my degree in fish and wildlife management. I was in class taking my final exams in 1995, when I received a call that my grandfather had passed. I had just applied to wildlife school a few weeks prior to that. After the application process, I received my letter from Raleigh telling me to be at the Institute of Government on Jan 6th 1996 to start the basic school! My only regret is that I wish Papaw could have known that I made it.”

Master Officer Mike Edmisten

                             

Courtesy of Mike Edmisten

from Wildlife in NC
September 2001

from Wildlife in NC
September 2001

Mike Edmisten is assigned to Durham County.  Geographically and demographically, Durham is almost 180 degrees different from his “Papaw’s” high country duty station.  Mike’s uncle, Baker, went on to work a long career as a special agent with the U.S. Forest Service and later as a U.S. Marshal.  Another uncle, Rufus, served as the N.C. Secretary of State and made a strong, but unsuccessful run for governor in 1984.  It seems that the name Edmisten is synonymous with service.

I think we have a plan

nationalgeographic.com

Yesterday was my fifth squirrelless squirrel hunt this season.  I could blame it on an abundance of acorns that reduce their movement.  I could probably even dump it off on an immature squirrel dog that is fascinated with all the different scents in the woods.  Heck, part of it may be the extra 15 pounds I’ve laid on that makes those high ridges less appealing.  But, there is more to it than that.

I haven’t even seen a squirrel.  I mean not crossing the road, not scurrying through the woods – nothing.  It is like they have vanished – raptured.  So, like any hunter, I began to ponder who I can blame.  

The problem could be poachers.  My friend, Randy Doman in Missouri, shared this Facebook photo of an incident in Missouri where four guys killed 100 squirrels in one outing.  The only trouble with that theory is I haven’t seen one squirrel much less 100.

Missouri Department of Conservation

I could lay it off on the wildlife commission.  Seriously, what have they done for us squirrel hunters.  When was the last time we had a squirrel management plan?  How about a squirrel biologist?  While I caught my breath for the umpteenth time yesterday, I began to formulate a plan to get the commission’s attention.  We need a squirrel hunters association.  And I figured the bear hunters have already come up with a pretty good plan so it seems reasonable to copy their playbook.

First, we (us squirrel hunters) have to get our minds right.  We have to be focused.  I encourage each of you who strives to be a member of our group to start the day with a little motivational self-talk. 

“I am a squirrel hunter.  I am the ultimate woodsman.  All other hunters stand coldly in my long shadow.  I am the lord of the woods”

Next, we have to speak the same language.  Bear hunters claim their ample use of feed has led to an increase in the bear population.  Note: we never make reference to “bait.”  Bait is illegal and bad.  If we want to see our squirrel population bounce back, we need to put out “feed.”  And when we are around biologists, let’s be sure to refer to the practice as “supplemental feeding.”  That is something they would teach in wildlife management at state college.  It makes us sound like we are in partnership with the commission.  Once we get the concept of “supplemental feeding” ingrained, we will get the law changed so that still hunters can’t hunt around feeders, but we will be able to turn loose on one.  The perfect plan – more squirrels and they are all ours.

Excellent example of supplemental feeding
bestturkeybait.com

We need to define what we consider “hunting for squirrels.”  We are talking ethical practices here.  I will confess to bushwacking squirrels in my younger days – I didn’t really know any better – young and dumb.  But we all know that real squirrel hunting involves dogs.  I have friends that still hunt and I guess there is some measure of sport to sitting under a hickory tree and waiting for an unsuspecting squirrel to show up.  But, dogs make it sporting – it gives the squirrel a chance.  Most people think we kill everyone we tree, but some get in a hole and some are just hard to see.  Plus, I propose that we commit to letting all the young squirrels walk.  Me personally, I just want to tree big, boar squirrels.  Before we leave the topic of still hunting, what I don’t understand at all is “incidental” hunting – those folks that kill one critter when they are really hunting another.  Makes no sense.  That is exactly the kind of practices that hurt the squirrel population.

We need standardized lines to use when certain situations arise.  For dogs that wander across a property line – an old favorite that still works:

“My dog can’t read.”

Who can argue with that logic?   You may still have to use some persuasion to get permission to get your dogs.  It works best to send your grubbest hunting partner, especially if he looks like Bobby from Sons of Anarchy, in the biggest 4x4 you can find – the muddier the better.  Who can say “no” to Bobby?  If they do say no, we will ride back and forth by their house to let them know how displeased we are with their decision.

Designated dog retriever

If caught hunting during the closed season:

            “It cost money to keep dogs.  The season ain’t long enough.”

This one is a bit problematic because of the length of the squirrel season.  If that is pointed out, follow with:

“Everybody is against a squirrel hunter.  First it’s squirrel hunting -  next they will be coming for our guns.”

And if that still isn’t getting traction make reference to the Constitution – just saying “Constitution” makes us sound legal.

No matter how much you like to roll a bushy-tail from the top of white oak, we have to remember to say with great sincerity:

“It’s all about the kids.  I would rather see a kid kill a squirrel over my dogs than me kill one.”

Note: you can substitute women, old people, veterans or handicapped hunters for kids.  Any of them makes us sound less selfish and more righteous.  If you can master the “voice crack” when uttering those lines, we will be golden.

We need to consider finding a high profile shyster lawyer in case any of us strays across the legal boundary (okay – you’re right – when we stray – remember our dogs can’t read).  Maybe we can find one that loves to be on TV and plays well to the “us against them” group.  He will cost us plenty, but we will just have to pretend he is worth it.  Maybe he will let us give him our property after we run out of money.

I’m really starting to feel good about our association.  Even if it doesn’t bring back the squirrels it will be fun to see who we can stir up.

            “I am lord of the woods.”

  I like it.