Not just for the birds
After the light came We got an early start and headed up the mountain in the dark wearing headlamps for the first part of the climb. After about an hour of zigzagging up the mountain the sun started to rise in the distance. Some parts of the climb were super steep and I ended up …
Celebrating and reminiscing about great days on the chukar hills from past seasons. These beautiful moments, funny ones, exhausting ones, and even frustrating ones always remind us of the beauty of the sport and what the culture of chukar hunting means to all of us. The following is a collection of some photos we've never …
On the steep ascent the winds were blowing hard and the dogs were having a hard time pinpointing the birds and singles were busting wild from the grasses and the minute you blinked one would take off like a missile. Halfway up the ridge, I stopped on top of a rocky outcropping to wait for …
I was looking for a file for an assignment on Hamlet this afternoon and came across this thing I wrote for one of my classes a few years ago. I'll often write alongside my students on an assignment, or model something before-hand. But I'd forgotten about this. I thought I'd share it here since it …
Some things are rituals. It was never discussed on Saturday but over the course of the last four months it was customary or tradition that we'd bird hunt on every Sunday. Last Sunday morning while sitting in front of the wood stove drinking coffee and looking out the living room window toward the mountains, Bob …
A week later, the withdrawal symptoms have begun. Peat's evening hotlaps have intensified. Angus seems more lost than his age and illness can explain, insisting on some daily me-time around dusk to see if any game birds have interloped on our plot. Leslie made the video. I'm having more meltdowns than usual, at least in …
Bob and I stood there at the bottom of the mountain for a couple of minutes looking up the steep ridge and up to a rocky outcropping high up on the ridgetop. We scanned the terrain for obvious paths made by animals. These paths usually prove to be the easier route up to the place …
This final Sunday of a marvelous chukar season finds us all, for the first time this season, called to something other than hunting. Leslie and I, forced to take a sick weekend, are watching the growing covey of quail scarf corn while the dogs get an unprecedented seventh straight day of no exercise. These diluvial …
My dogs don’t make me reach between their legs to light the fire. But they do sit right in front of it, waiting and looking and wondering until it’s warm enough for them to lie down and go to sleep on their cushy pads and chairs, and they’re there when I leave, in the dark, …
My dog does not care where heat comes from, but he cares ardently that it come, and soon. Indeed he considers my ability to make it come as something magical, for when I rise in the cold black pre-dawn and kneel shivering by the hearth making a fire, he pushes himself blandly between me and …