Some of you might have seen this already, but the good guys at Project Upland asked if I’d be willing to write something about chukar hunting for their website. If you’re not familiar with them already, it’s an impressive operation of ardent upland folks devoted to preserving and celebrating the whole enchilada of pursuing game birds. So I wrote a “how-to” thing on chukar hunting, aimed at those who haven’t done it yet. I’ll eventually post it here, but for the time being here it is…
Like many of you, I spent much of the summer trying to get in shape for chukar season. I ran about 10 to 15 miles a week, rode my bike, hiked, and — for the first time in a long time — did a little strength training. To be honest, I’ve been a little nervous about it all since — because of the low bird count around here — I’m expecting to do a lot more hiking and a lot less finding. So, on opening weekend we hunted, for our first time, along the Salmon River because we’d heard there were a lot of chukar down there; I wanted to maximize the chance Leslie would bag a chukar on her initial outing as a hunter.
The bird report, from what we saw, was right. We saw plenty of chukar on both days. That report, though, didn’t help me visualize the experience of hunting there. It is steep and rough, nothing to be trifled with. My physical fitness, which I felt was good going in, was not a comfortable match with the terrain. And Leslie — because we “strategically” split up for a while on the first day — ended up hiking farther than I and ascended about 2800 feet, 400 more than my toughest climbing day since I’ve been tracking my chukar hunts. Much of that ascending, for each of us, came in the shape of climbing boulder piles on ridge spines, which was easier than scaling vertical walls to get out of the numerous steep crevices and ravines we ran into all day. I did actually climb a couple walls (the shotgun sling made this possible, if not smart).
Climbing wasn’t the only challenge. After gaining all that elevation, we had to get down, and by then our legs were jellifying, and the old quads (the ones God gave us) began feeling pretty shaky over the loose steep dry rocky terrain.
This all almost sounds like a complaint. It’s not. It was awesome because it was new ground, and the birds were everywhere. The big rocks, though, and our dogs’ dry noses seriously curtailed the number of pointed coveys. I never actually got a shot over a pointed bird on the first day, but it seemed as though I shot all day long at wild-busting birds, or birds that Leslie bumped above me, or vice versa.
And Leslie’s maiden voyage as a hunter was impressive, even though she didn’t bag a bird. She got the first shot of the day off a pointed single chukar that Angus held for a long time, allowing Leslie to get into position and experience the unpredictability of a “sure thing” point. She also learned, the hard way, that footing when shooting pointed chukar is important: when the bird flew, it wasn’t exactly where she thought it was, so she had to move her feet before shooting, and in the process lost her balance (assisted by recoil) and ended up on her ass. I have it on video, but she’s asked me to refrain from showing it to anybody. Maybe later…
The second day just Peat and I hit the hills a bit downstream, which were just as steep but more open than the rocky castles we’d endured on Saturday. Peat pointed many coveys. I shot miserably, though, which greatly irritated me until I remembered I was chukar hunting.
And when we were done, we were loaded with way more memories and lactic acid than dead birds. The fact that we did what we did, to us anyway, confirms we’re not old despite what we might think a lot of the time. Because that is no country for old men, or women.
The question then becomes, since Hells Canyon is easier hiking than the Salmon River “hills,” would we rather hunt closer and find way fewer birds or drive all the way down there and find lots more birds but under much more strenuous conditions? We’ll most likely return to the River of No Return.
Opening day of bird season, always grouse, came and went. I had to wait until after school to head out, and even had to turn away a friend who’d stopped by for a beer unannounced (talk about tough decisions). The continued heat, and the lack of sleep and scores of sick students this first full week of school, I must admit, dampened my enthusiasm for the plan to look for grouse after school. But when I got home, Leslie was ready to go. So go we did.
It was drier than I expected, but also more overgrown than I’d ever seen this place. I wasn’t expecting the dogs to find many birds because of the heat and time of day, but at least the creek would keep them happy, and grouse hunting’s just a walk with a gun anyway, right?
In 150 minutes we saw two birds, ruffed grouse. Leslie shot and killed one, and I shot at and missed the other. Hers was the first creature she’s killed, and it moved her as I thought it would, but I knew she couldn’t know how she’d feel afterward. On the walk back to the truck she said she was over it and wanted to hunt again. For me, if she had decided, after killing that grouse, that she never wanted to hold or shoot a gun again, that would have been fine. I’m glad she wants to keep trying, and gladder that she got the bird on the first outing. It’s valuable data for her, and for me. I reflected on the first ever bird I shot, also a ruffed grouse, dogless. You can’t compare that experience because you can only really know what’s in your own head and heart. Shortly after she shot the bird, we separated for a while, letting the creek divide us, and I was glad she had some time and space to think about it. For those who’ve killed scores of creatures, this might seem like a dusty memory but I appreciated the time I had to contemplate the event and compare it to my own first ever. I drew no conclusions and didn’t need to.
Peat found the dead bird in the dense thicket, after both dogs had run amuck trying to find it.
He brought it straight to Leslie, which amazed and greatly pleased her. That was my favorite moment of the day.
On the walk back, as we stood listening near the creek while the dogs investigated the brush, Leslie said, “Chukar!” High on the hill above us, in the rocks, crowing. I’d been so focused on the hope of hearing grouse wings beating near the creek that I wouldn’t have noticed. Those were the first chukar sounds I’ve heard this year, a joyous relief after the past winter, spring, and summer of discontentedly wondering whether there would be any chukar this fall.
The other first I’ll mention, which tarnished the evening, was that while we were putting our guns in the truck Angus was viciously attacked by a dog from a nearby pickup.
Like I need to tell you…
We’ve had our sights set on Wednesday after school to launch our 2017 bird season. Leslie decided over the summer that she wanted to try hunting this year. She said that she wants to experience what I experience working with the dogs, that taking photos and video can’t capture the experience like actually doing it. I agree.
I don’t want to make too much about this, but it’s interesting to note that before we met in 2001 Leslie had been a PETA member. I don’t necessarily have anything against PETA; at least they’re not running around with Confederate flags trying to kill people. But they really aren’t fond of the whole hunting thing. So it has always seemed a little odd that Leslie not only didn’t mind me hunting but she accompanied me frequently (thus the great photos and videos on this blog). I knew it saddened her to watch me dispatch a live bird Peat or Angus retrieved; as most of you know, it still saddens me to have to do that. But I rationalized her part in all this as mainly motivated by watching the dogs work. She volunteered for several years with the Greyhound Rescue of Idaho, which began her love for dogs, but also paved her way toward her brief membership with PETA. Life is weird. Now she owns her own Benelli Montefeltro 20 gauge.
And she can use it. She’d never fired a gun until a year or two ago. On New Year’s Day, she fired one shot from a neighbor’s shotgun when a few of us were shooting clay pigeons on his property. This summer, after she decided she wanted to hunt, she shot about 10 shells at our neighbor’s house, and pulverized 5 of the pigeons. I was excited. She was excited. Our neighbor was excited. So she got the gun, and it sat in our house most of the summer — we were too busy, then school started — until yesterday. We’ve shot the last two days, and she’s getting it. More importantly, she likes it and wants to get better at it. Check out her form in this slow-motion video:
We also decided that we’re both getting weaker as we get older, so we’re adding some strength training, something a bit more than hoisting a pint a couple times a night. The dogs don’t know quite what to make of it.
So we’re ready to go now. I’ve heard mixed reports on birds in our normal area, and glowing reports about areas lower in elevation. We’ll see. Oh, and we’ve still got boatloads of hats and t-shirts if you’re interested. Check the Shop page for those…
With the increasing availability of unmanned aerial craft equipped with cameras, the possibilities for improving the documentation of outdoor activities has radically increased.
In Idaho, a recent statute prohibits using drones to assist in hunting, including birds: It is unlawful to “Make use of aircraft, including any unmanned aircraft system, in any manner to spot or locate game animals, game birds or furbearing animals of this state from the air and communicate the location or approximate location thereof by any signals whatsoever, whether radio, visual or otherwise, to any person then on the ground” (36.11.3).
As most of you know, we enjoy capturing our hunting experiences in still and video images and like to share them. I’d love to have a drone to add to the kinds of shots we get; an overhead moving image of our dogs honing in to point birds on the edge of Hells Canyon excites me. I’m curious to know others’ thoughts about this, and plan to talk to our local Fish and Game officer soon to get his take. The way I read the statute, if we used a drone, we wouldn’t be in violation because we wouldn’t (couldn’t is more like it: there’s no way a drone can do a better job locating chukar than our dogs do). Anyway, I’m curious to know readers’ thought about this.
