Wilderness
By Alan Campbell Special to the Leelanau Color Tour
County roads fill in October with visitors eager for a first-hand glimpse at deep blue water splashed in an autumn frame. The “leaf peepers” don’t stray far from cars, and grow scarce when Lake Michigan spits fall storms at the Peninsula. Some 12 miles west of M-22 lies North Manitou Island, a place whose ruggedness seems a world away from the coziness of a SUV parked at a road-end that spills into Lake Michigan. And on that 15,000-acre island are about 100 deer, enough to lure half as many hunters to a place as wild as any in Michigan — or east of the Mississippi River, for that matter. “I just think it’s an amazing place to be,” said Bruce Dembraski, a Postal Service worker who leaves the Upper Peninsula, of all places, to hunt away from the crowds in Leelanau County. “To be out in a wilderness hunting for a week, there is nothing to compare it with. To be out of the regular routine, because you are there, and there is no distraction that will take you out of it.” No neighbors dropping by. No chores. And, so important for Dembraski, no mail — just North Manitou Island and a handful of guys dressed in orange who he occasionally passes along a trail. “It’s a totally different situation for me,” continued Dembraski. “You come home, and there are the regular things going on. But there, it’s totally different. None of your normal day activities will encroach on your hunt on North Manitou.” The island hunt is the main event in fall for a small legion of hunters willing to be marooned in the waning week of the Leelanau color season. It’s much like “the old days.”
Logged, farmed then isolated
The Manitou islands, with their tall stands of timber and easy access by steamer, were settled before the mainland of the Leelanau Peninsula. South Manitou, with its rounded harbor, provided easy transportation for lumber, while loading docks were built around North Manitou. Some of the north island’s cleared land was farmed and planted in orchards, and its west shore provided summer homes for wealthy Chicago families. One “cottage” was designed by Frank Lloyd Wright. The bulk of North Manitou Island’s history
Terry McNeil hauls a week’s worth of supplies into the North Manitou wilderness. Circa, 1996.
Color Tour
was controlled largely by a line of large property owners that ended with Muskegon businessman William R. Angell, who died in 1951. He joined a group of Chicago industrialists in assembling properties on the island in the 1920’s and 30’s that would be used mostly for recreation under a syndicate known as the Manitou Island Association (MIA). In 1926 the MIA imported a small herd of deer from Pennyslvania whose ancestors were in for dramatic changes through the years. The deer herd once lived in relative luxury. Angell had specially formulated deer food produced by Kellogg’s packed out to the island to supplement a natural diet. With no pressure from coyotes or other natural predators, deer fattened up like cattle before processing. The herd grew much larger than could be supported by the island’s vegetation; a noticeable browse line started to form in the 1930’s, according a National Park Service writing. After Angell passed, ownership of most of the island passed to the non-profit Angell Foundation. But hunting was fantastic, recalls Leland commercial fisherman Bill Carlson. He has a 134-year connection to the island. Nels and Sophia Carlson homesteaded on 160 acres of North Manitou starting as early as 1878,
having traveled to America from Sweden. Four generatons later, Bill Carlson jumped at an opportunity just out of high school to help guide Angell Foundation hunts. Revenue from the hunts, which were often bought by large corporations as gifts for clients, helped an orphanage in Detroit, Carlson recalled. Many of the corporations sold military equipment to the government. “I guided for lots of generals and majors, and executives for Century boats and companies like that. They would bring over their clients and entertain them, and just have a good time. “In the morning, we’d take them out and try to drive deer to them. And then we’d take them back for lunch, and then take them out in the afternoon where they would stand hunt. What I did most of the time then was scout the island, and take pictures of deer,” Carlson continued. The money was good — real good — for a college student. Carlson took fall off from attending classes at Northwestern Michigan College, and would make about $400 a week. He recalled that clients would pitch in on jackpots won by the hunter with the largest buck. As a guide, much of his income came through tips. (Continued on Page 54)
North Manitou hunt takes you to a beautiful place 53
Leelanau Color Tour 2012
Pursuing deer on their turf (Continued from Page 53) One jackpot brought him $510 from his client’s take. After deer season, Carlson and other guides culled deer on the island, shooting spike bucks and does to keep the population in check. “I shot 110 deer one year. Does and spikehorn bucks, between 100 and 110 pounds. We got pretty good at predicting the size of deer. We kind of practiced deer management at that time without knowing we were doing deer management,” Carlson said. The hunts were curtailed while the Park Service was condemning the island for inclusion in the Lakeshore. The process took several years, and price was the hold up — in a good way. Members of the then-governing, non-profit Angell Foundation chose their favorite charities as beneficiaries of the sale. The supplemental feeding stopped with the deer herd numbering well over 1,000; the health of the deer herd turned dire after six years with no hunting. “Starvation of the island’s deer herd in recent years has varied with the severity of weather conditions,” stated a front page story in the July 19, 1984, Leelanau Enterprise, “peaking at an estimated 80 percent mortality rate during the winter of 1981-82.” Residents joined sportsmen in aching for a hunt as a way to responsibly cull the herd. Mike Grosvenor, whose family continues to provide ferry service to both islands through the Manitou Island Transit Service, remembers the context of his offer to temporarily fix a dock on the island at his own expense in preparation for a fall hunt. He was running the service with his father, George, who is
Hunters, shown after unloading from the Mishe-Mokwa ferry, had their best season in several in 2009. Lennie McNeil, left, holds what turned out to be the largest set of antlers shot that year in Leelanau County. now deceased. “It seems like it took seven years or so, from start to finish, to acquire the island. During that time, the deer were neglected ... the association chose to ignore the deer herd. They were starving to death by the thousands, and continued to do so. Everybody was anxious to get hunters over there,” Grosvenor recalled. Deer densities of 40 per square mile are considered over-populated even for Michigan’s corn belt, where winters are light and food plentiful year-round. The deer population was more than double that density on North Manitou, resulting in stunted growth and over browsing. “We use to call it park-like. Other than the vegetation the deer wouldn’t eat, such as the beech, there were huge sections of the island where nothing was green below eight feet or so. You would swear it was a city park cleared of all the underbrush ... there was no such thing as a tree under 40 years
old,” Grosvenor said. That year Grosvenor did break through the bureaucratic deadlock to transport an estimated 150 hunters to North Manitou. A headline in the Nov. 29, 1984, Enterprise read, “3 of 4 deer hunters got deer on Manitou.” National Park Service records state that some 94 deer were killed, for a 63 percent success rate — still more than double the 30 percent take on the mainland. The National Park Service eventually bought most of the island for $12.25 million. By 1985, the Park Service was ready to organize an all-out assault on the Manitou deer herd. Previously, the deer hunt was held by the same rules as elsewhere in the state. Hunters had to use their regular season tags, and the hunt itself didn’t start until Nov. 15 in unpredictable weather. But hunters would face new obstacles, as all but 21 acres of North Manitou surrounding a small “village” area was managed as
Wilderness, with a capital “W.” Hunters are not allowed to build campfires, must camp at least 200 feet from trails, and must pack out all trash to the village.
Rugged hunt, rugged weather
Grosvenor said before the present dock was built, he rigged an aluminum ramp that was dropped from the front of the ferry to a North Manitou beach, with hunters wading through icy waters to board or exit. For the first few years of public hunting the island filled with hunters, and hunters filled their freezers. Interest was so high that a lottery system was created, with some 5,000 applying for the first special hunt tags in 1985. Hunters did not have to use their tags from the mainland, and a series of hunts spread them out from October through early November. That first (Continued on Page 55)
‘We practiced deer management ... without knowing we were practicing deer management.’ — former North Manitou guide Bill Carlson Leelanau Color Tour 2012
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Deer killed, hunter pressure on North Manitou Island Hunters 710 695 176 52 27 26 56 53
Deer Taken Adult Bucks 825 171 167 49 17 11 2 2 9 7 11 9 12 7 7 4
Sat/Sun – October 20 & 21 10 to 4 pm
Grand Traverse Lighthouse Leelanau State Park Wander the Haunted Basement Activites for children of all ages Hunt the grounds for treasures Take the treasure chest challenge Climb the haunted tower
* Qualified for Boone and Crockett permanent record book with a minimum non-typical score of 195 inches. The minimum for typical racks is 170 inches.
North Manitou: A balance of nature (Continued from Page 54) year, 710 hunters were transported to North Manitou — there are always “no shows” — and they returned with 825 deer. Some 171 of them were antlered bucks. There was always the danger that once dropped off, hunters would have to camp extra nights to outlast a storm. “The one that really rings a bell with Michael, my son, and I was after the dock was built in the harbor. It was the only time I ever left with storm warnings hoisted,” Grosvenor said. “So we loaded up with food from the Merc, and threw in some sleeping bags.” Sure enough, the temperature dropped and the wind blew past 50 knots. The Grosvenors huddled in their ferry. “We told the guys that we’d open the bar every evening on the MisheMawka. So a crew of hunters would come down and hoist a couple beers, and after an hour or so they would head back to their camps.” Two of those early island hunters were brothers Terry and Lennie McNeil of Lake Leelanau. “We started hunting North Manitou when the park took over, which was 1984 or something like that,” recalled Lennie McNeil, a part-time barber and musician, and full-time sportsman. “But you had to use a mainland tag. You’d see 6-7 bucks in a day. And they were healthy. There were a lot of big bucks over there, of about average
State Park entry fee required. Fee for Haunted Lighthouse $4 Adults, $2 Children
size for around here.” The size of the herd fell through early years of the public hunt because of hunting pressure and a lack of natural food. A biologist documented island deer eating washed-up alewives in the worst of years. The National Park Service encouraged hunters to take more than one deer home, and they were stacked up like cordwood on return trips of the Mishe-Mawka. The hunt’s popularity eventually waned as success rates dipped. The island seemed to be sorting through hunters, retaining those up to the task. Still, as late as 1996 some 649 hunters killed 116 deer, including 44 antlered bucks. That winter was particularly brutal, dropping 202 inches of snow in Suttons Bay and clogging the Manitou Passage with ice. After back-to-back 200-plus winters with little browse, the island deer herd was weary. By spring, they would have a new problem to contend with.
Safe passage for coyotes
A Coast Guard copter spotted them first, dark dots darting across a frozen lake, headed to a new world. Lakeshore chief ranger Chris Johnson recalls finding what at first looked like “dog” prints on North Manitou in the spring of 1997. Island deer, who had never known a predator other than man, (Continued on Page 56)
This is a fundraiser for the Grand Traverse Lighthouse Museum
A “Grand” Grand Traverse Lighthouse Christmas (Leelanau State Park, Northport)
Sunday, December 2nd 12 noon to 4 p.m. (An Authentic McCormick Family Christmas) Based on the story written by Bette McCormick Olli in her book, “The Way It Was”: Memories of My Childhood at Grand Traverse Lighthouse, GTLM volunteers will re-create a McCormick Family Christmas of the 1920’s. A fireplace & mantle will be created to hang the children’s stockings, which will be filled with an orange, Brazil nuts and hard candy. The dining room table will be filled with the sight and smells of an actual holiday meal & much more. Doug McCormick & Bette McCormick Olli have provided additional information and guidance to make this a very special Christmas event for all. A special guided tour sheet will be created to allow visitors a self-guided walking tour through each room & read about the many wonderful things occurring during a McCormick Family Christmas.
Climb the tower and tour the Lighthouse Santa arrives at 3 p.m. Holiday Music Visit the Gift shop Holiday cookies & refreshments Make your own Christmas ornament
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1985 1995 2000 2005 2008 2009 2010 2011
The Haunted Lighthouse
(Free Admission to Lighthouse) For more information call Grand Traverse Lighthouse 386-7195
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Leelanau Color Tour 2012
North Manitou: A balance of nature initially may have made the same mistake. Today coyotes have taken over the role of containing the North Manitou deer herd, with hunting reduced to a temporary distraction compared to the year-round pursuit of packs of coyotes. “The number of hunters who go to the island currently are not the controlling factor on the herd,” said Johnson, referring to the inability of deer to grow their numbers. “The only other control is coyotes, and coyotes probably take a number of fawns.” Johnson said no evidence exists to indicate that coyotes lived on North Manitou until 1997, which makes sense. They were rare on the Leelanau Peninsula after civilization took hold, killed upon sight by hunters and farmers. They had no reason to migrate to North Manitou prior to establishment of a deer herd by man. It was only after coyote numbers rebounded on the mainland that their instincts for natural dispersion kicked in, and the island offered bountiful, new hunting grounds. With coyotes leaving fewer deer available, hunting fell off precipitously. Only four deer were harvested in the seasons of 2003 and 2004. The lottery used to disperse permits was faded out; only 60 people applied in 2004. The number of hunters bottomed out at 27 in 2009. An average of 10 deer have been shot on North Manitou during each of the last four seasons. The result is a deer hunt reminiscent of 150 years ago. Coyotes do most of their damage on fawns, meaning that deer surviving their first year have a good chance of living to a ripe old age. Thick ground cover has returned with a vengeance, although a discerning eye can pick out a 20-year absence in the age of trees. They’re relatively young, or really old. Still, deer have plenty of food to survive even tough winters without artificial feeding. Man’s take from the land is incidental, leaving the natural cycle of predator and prey to work out their differences.
Leelanau Color Tour 2012
Bruce Dembraski brought a buck of a lifetime back from the 2010 North Manitou hunt.
Camaraderie of the hunt
Hunters look for a system that works, and so it was with McNeil. He has a “tree lounge” that turns into a cart. Upon arriving on the island, he and Terry roll their supplies about 1.2 miles to a site near Lake Manitou in the middle of the island to set up camp. “Then I backpack my tree lounge into my secret spot. Then I put my tree lounge up, and I sit there all day long.” He shot a big buck in 2009, followed by two big bucks in 2010. “So I really think I have this all figured out, we rolled in and I backpacked back in three miles. The next day I was in my spot before daylight, and I sat up there for four days and only saw a four-point,” McNeil said. Like Dembraski, the McNeils treasure an opportunity to hunt deer one-on-one, without disturbances from other hunters or hikers. “If you get off the road, you really don’t see that many people. I think I saw two hunters from my tree lounge,” McNeil said. Dinners go downhill as the weeklong hunt progresses. The brothers start with a rotisserie chicken on the first day, and eventually a second chicken that was frozen for the trip. Breakfast is oatmeal; trail mix and apples get them through the days. By the end of the week the McNeils are down to “those driedup dinners, but they aren’t very good,” McNeil said. Weather, of course, plays a factor. Fires were unneeded during the last few years. “But one year we had a foot of snow, and it never got over 10 degrees. If you put in the paper that we lit a fire, they’ll probably give me a ticket 25 years later,” said McNeil. While McNeil is leaning toward discontinuing his island hunts — “that island hunting is just too hard,” he says — Dembraski expects to be drawn to North Manitou for many more years. And besides, his father, who is all of 67-years-old, wouldn’t miss it. “It’s a bit of a challenge, but he’s not going to admit that he’s thinking about not going. And I’m commit-
ted in that if he wants to go, I’m going to take him.” Whether drawn by illusions of taking down “Boxcar,” a legendary buck that island hunters gossiped about for years, or the thought of avoiding civilization for a solid week, most hunters do come back, said Johnson. “I’d say 90 percent of the hunters have been there before,” he said. Perhaps the tone of the North Manitou hunt has matured with its
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hunters. Johnson said when the Park Service first opened the island to hunting, “we’d write a couple tickets or take some people off the island every year. But we haven’t done that for 5-6 years. Eventually you get the people who want to hunt, and are not there to party. “It’s not for the faint of heart.” Whatever their reason, Manitou deer hunters seem to enjoy their wilderness color tour.
Updated Exhibits for 2012
Shipwrecks of the Manitou Passage and Life on North Manitou Island: 1895-1930
Open Wed‐Fri 10am‐4pm Saturday 10am‐2pm 203 E Cedar St. Leland, MI leelanauhistory.org 231‐256‐7475
Traditional Anishnabek Arts Collection featuring Native American baskets and quillwork
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(Continued from Page 55)