Author: Bob McMichael

  • L’ecole de Chukar

    L’ecole de Chukar

    Our school offers an enrichment program for grades 6 through 12, which consists of two-week blocks of varied “courses” allowing teachers to do things with kids that the “normal” curriculum doesn’t typically allow. Since we began this program a couple years ago, students have been able to learn how to create striking landscape paintings, make and use catapults, hit a fastball off of (and right at) the grumpy English teacher, meditate, give neck massages, make slime, execute a perfect pick-and-roll, drive a golf ball, win at all kinds of board games, bomb (or not) at standup, and much much more. For the past several weeks, I’ve had the great pleasure of teaching kids about upland bird hunting, Chukar Culture style.

    Some of my high school students already know about Chukar Culture, but since I don’t teach middle school (anymore), it’s been a treat being able to expose some of the younger students to some of the elements of our extra-curricular pursuits. They learned about habitat, partridge history, endemic versus introduced species, bird dogs and training, hunting strategy, shotguns, cleaning and preparing birds, and even reloading. The culmination of the enrichment course was cooking and eating the dusky grouse, Hungarian partridge, and chukar that they all cleaned.

    Angus and Peat were frequent visitors to the classroom
    Some biography
    Peat pointing the geographical origin of alectoris chukar (Angus is more interested in the turkey fan)
    They learned how the GPS stuff works, although the dogs sought affection instead of birds (they must have realized we were within city limits, and so ignored the hundreds of quail running all over the area)
    Taking turns at loading shells (this was cleared by the district superintendent and county sheriff)
    Zoe cooks the curry while Leslie practices her two-step
    We cooked up a delicious curry (see the separate recipe post)
    Everyone enjoyed the food, and many went back for seconds. Only one nickel-plated pellet was found (thanks, Dale!).
    Kids like food (Quinn, to my right, prefers ham, obviously)

    I’m kicking myself for lacking the presence of mind to take photos of the bird-cleaning session. That was easily the most spectacular part of the course: I showed them the two ways I clean birds, and then had them dive right in, but not before I emphasized that these amazing creatures gave their lives (or, actually, that Leslie and I took them) for us to nourish ourselves with good, clean animal protein. We looked in the crops of the dusky grouse, Hungarian partridge, and chukar, and made inferences on their respective diets and habitats. The counters soon were covered in feathers, heads, feet, wings, and carcasses. A couple kids got birds with shot-perforated intestines and learned the ugly beauty of that odor, and what to do with meat that partly stinks. A couple of gagging sounds were heard. After we finished with the 12 partridges, we’d bagged at least 7 pounds of clean breast meat and at least several pounds of leg-thigh combinations. Only one or two of the students had cleaned birds before, so I’m sure the experience was eye-opening for most of them. At least one student said cleaning the birds was her favorite part of the two-week enrichment, mainly because she’d never thought about the anatomy of a bird and it was cool to see what was inside it. Since one of my goals as a teacher is to expand students’ perspectives on our world, I’ll take that right there as a win.

    The aroma attracted a number of students who weren’t in the enrichment course, and we had plenty to share with them, too
    Self-plug
  • Comments of the Weak-minded

    The ugly under-belly of chukar hunting has once again exposed itself here, hoping, maybe, for some kind of swan song celebration of self-hatred. I don’t really want to give the person the pleasure of a reaction, which — not unlike the mentality of mass murderers, who failed in life to get the attention they crave and thus create the conditions for a guaranteed but pathological kind of attention from strangers — is what he (or, more likely in this case, she) wants. But since this, sadly, has become a part of even the most off-the-radar culture of chukar hunting, I’ll offer it up now with the promise of ignoring it from here on out.

    In response to my review of the Garmin Alpha, someone who calls him or herself Drakian wrote:

    Since you seem like one of those guys that suffers from separation anxiety with your dogs (you not seeming to want them more than 10′ away from you at all times), why even bother with pointing breeds that are genetically designed to “hunt” and sometimes get out of your sight? Get yourself, hmm, maybe a king charles spaniel and leave the real chukar hunting to the big boys, This way, you won’t have to shit your pants every time a dog goes over a hill…..and you won’t have to “run” every time one your dogs goes on “point”. Boy, that’s a sight – you runnin’ and shittin’ at the same time

    Two things come to mind. First, it’s only been in the last 18 months or so that we’ve gotten comments like this; I have my own thoughts about why this might be, but I’ll let you make your own connections. Second, it saddens me to contemplate what someone like this might think is appropriate or ethical behavior in the field. I’ve never claimed to be the best-behaved person in the world, or that I have the best manners, or that I’m the most ethical hunter on earth, but I can’t even (and don’t want to) imagine the type of self-hatred that would make talking to a stranger in this way even possible. I feel sorry for him or her. Real life is better. Check it out.

  • Shameless Self-promotion

    Shameless Self-promotion

    UPDATE 10/21/19: I’m participating in Boise’s storytelling institution “Story Story Night” on Tuesday, October 29th, for its “Starry Story Night” event, which weaves together six storytellers’ narratives on a theme related to hunting. My part is largely from the piece I published in Gray’s about Angus and other things. We’ve rehearsed several times now, and I have to say it’s one of the most interesting, thought-provoking, connection-inspiring literary events I’ve been a part of, and it features a live brass quintet. If you’re in town, please come check it out.

    If you can’t find a copy of Gray’s from August 2015 and want to see my piece on Angus, here it is:

    The current issue of Gray’s Sporting Journal (Bird Hunting Edition, August 2015, available at Barnes & Noble) features a piece I wrote about Angus a couple years ago. The best thing about the piece is Rachel Teannalach‘s painting, which I wrote about in an earlier post. Still, the piece is heartfelt and makes a nice tribute to one of the most compelling souls I’ve had the pleasure of being with in this short life.

  • Resurrected

    Resurrected

    We haven’t made many videos since Leslie traded the camcorder for a Benelli. I was looking through my Youtube channel the other day, and noticed that one of the first videos we made (and one of my favorites) had been permanently blocked because I used copyrighted music as a soundtrack. I have no problem with that, but wondered if there was a way I could restore it somehow. Youtube offered to remove the music so I could restore the video, and it actually worked!

    So here it is, in case you missed it: one of the early Angus hunts back when we lived in Boise. Enjoy!

  • What It Is

    What It Is

    Sometimes, the best way to define something is to begin with what it is not.

    I think this is because the more stuff we get exposed to, the harder it is to distinguish between things that appear similar but really aren’t. The Internet Age has amplified this, as we all know. Social media in particular has grown into what a lot of people might call a necessary evil (although I personally think it’s very unnecessary, despite the fact that I use it). Each day more of us are seduced by it for one reason or another. And as that happens, the general discourse gets — in my opinion — degraded. This blog’s been around for about a decade, and until very recently it’s been immune to some of the ills I see in the discourse between otherwise anonymous people. “Civil discourse” seems to get rarer each day as keyboard commandos, trolls, and just straight-up assholes feel entitled to ruffle feathers just for the hell of it or, more likely, because they hate themselves and can’t think of anything better to do but project that self-hatred onto strangers.

    So, to put it plainly, as far as what this blog is not:

    — It is not yours
    — It is not a petri dish for trolls
    — It is not Instagram
    — It is not a forum for “free speech” or spam
    — It is not an outlet for unsolicited, uncivil discourse

    What it is (as if that weren’t obvious):

    — A place for my wife and me to share our thoughts, experiences, photos, and videos about chukar hunting and the culture surrounding it
    — A place for civil discussions in response to our posts

    As I said, until very recently, the impetus for wasting bandwidth on this issue never existed here, but I feel compelled (and really saddened) now to do so because I want to make it clear that if you feel like being a jerk on this blog, I won’t give you the perverse satisfaction of publicizing your self-hatred. Sorry.

    If you don’t like what I write, or what my wife writes, and want to say so, we want to hear it if you can be a person about it. I like disagreement; I learn a lot from it. But if you can’t be a person, please don’t read this blog and please don’t comment. Unsubscribe. Go spread your self-hatred somewhere else, or better yet look in the mirror and face yourself and get some help. We’d all be better off.