Yesterday a pheasant rooster turned up at our bird feeder and gorged himself for more than an hour. Our house is about 400 yards from the nearest cover any self-respecting pheasant would consider. Surely a sign the Upland Apocalypse is upon us. I’d hoped we’d see a turn toward some burn-off so I might get out one more time before the end of January, but with the continued frigidity and snowfall it looks like the fat lady has indeed sung. I’m looking for a fork to stick in myself. We’re done.
I worry the birds are, too. Done for, more like. I keep hearing about herds of chukar on the road and gangs of road-sluicing morons taking advantage of the desperate birds. If there’s any hope for some leftover breeders, the road killers are doing their part to prevent that from happening. It’s a shame we’re looking at yet another upcoming season of super-low bird numbers.
And Fish and Game, in their brilliance, have rejected the many requests by sportsmen to end the season. I’m not a biologist and don’t know a lot about over-winter survival for chukar, but it only stands to reason that adding more mortal pressure to an already maximal environmental stress on a species isn’t a recipe for success. I don’t get it. I’m sure one of my smarter readers can clue me in on this.
I hope I’m wrong. I hope we see some good numbers of birds in the fall. If we do, I’ll be even more impressed with these feathered phenoms. But I’m preparing for another disappointing year. In the meantime, I have lots of amazing memories of this great — but shortened — season. I hope you do, too.
Just a little report on the past couple of hunts, which I did in snowshoes because I didn’t feel post-holing was the way to go. Yes, we have that much snow.
Shallow snow on the road; deeper off-road.
Snowshoe Pros:
With a good pair of snowshoes (I have an old set of steel Atlas snowshoes; they have even lighter ones nowadays), you can hunt in any depth of snow.
Snowshoes don’t keep you from sinking in the snow, but you don’t sink as far as if you just had boots on.
Snowshoes make your foot placement much easier, and you can pretty much go over anything without worrying too much about your route.
Snowshoes probably mean you won’t see a lot of other people where you go (although that’s true for most of us regardless of where and when we search for chukar).
Me in the middle, after busting about 2.5 million birds from 80 yards away
Snowshoe Cons:
Unless the snow is super soft and powdery, snowshoes make a lot of noise because they impact a much bigger footprint than just your foot; lots of noise means the birds can hear your ambulatory crunching from a long way away, which means they’ll most likely bust, even if your dog is great at holding birds, before you can get in range. I saw this happen every single time we got close to birds the past couple of days.
If the snow is deep enough, and you’re in snowshoes, your dogs will have a tough time getting through the snow, which means they’ll often come up behind you to coast in your wake, often stepping on the rear of your snowshoes, causing you to take an involuntary snow sample with your face.
Snowshoes are just another piece of gear to haul along, sometimes are hard to put on (especially with gloves), and — mainly because of the noise they make — not worth the trouble if your objective is to kill birds.
Chukar or Hun wing pattern from liftoff
I managed one Hun each day, and hiked between 2 and 2-1/2 miles each time. I enjoyed being out — stunning scenery, very quiet (aside from the crunching of each step), and the dogs had a blast. I saw lots of interesting wildlife, including a porcupine lodged in a bitterbrush (a first), bald eagles, an elk calf lounging around with a herd of cattle, about a million rooster pheasants (also lounging with the cows), and a peregrine falcon dive-bomb a covey of Huns along the road (less successful than I was). Clearly, I’m in denial that the season looks about over unless we get some sunshine and burn-off up in here. But that’s okay. It’s been a great season. Maybe we’ll get some days in January, but who knows. Here are some more images…
Porcupine in bitterbrush; it didn’t want to show its face, and I’m glad I was able to keep Peat from this thing.
After our big storm, which left nearly a foot of snow, I was ready to call it. We’ve had a great season, and finding birds has always been hard for me once the snow flies. I read at least one blog, though (especially Tucker’s Chukars), whose author does not appear to be impeded by sub-freezing precip. And after last Friday’s debacle, which left Angus and Peat rather lacerated and on the DL, this weekend kind of dragged on into a dreary, slate-skied Sunday.
I had to get out. Couldn’t take Angus because of his stitches, so tricked him into a walk with Leslie while I put Peat in the truck and got ready. Drove into Hells Canyon, where I haven’t been for quite a while, and watched a couple chukar sail over my windshield before deciding it might be thoughtful to get out. About 8 inches of snow covered the slope and its rocky exoskeleton. Hiking along a tight draw with brush, five minutes into the walk, Peat pointed. It was like that for the next two hours. I saw more birds than I think I’ve seen in the snow before, and got lots of good shots and a bunch of chukar.
Oh, Peat!
Miracle dog
Hunting alone with Peat, on a stormy pre-winter day in that terrain, with the kind of action we had, really can’t be beat. It was fair chase: the chukar could see me coming a mile away, as I could see them running up snowy slopes to rocky outcroppings and brush-filled draws. Usually they beat us, but I got more than I need or expected to get, much less see. And Peat performed beautifully, wearing his protective vest for the first time. A very good day.
Where do birds go when they’re cold? I wondered this yesterday as I walked alone across Friendship Bridge in Boise and looked down at the mallards preening themselves in the river. On the road home today after hunting I saw a quail puffed up like a volleyball, right on the road just off the margin of snow. I wanted to stop and cuddle it.
We saw lots of birds last Friday, but they were really jumpy, and – whatever the reason – the dogs couldn’t or didn’t hold them. I sprayed plenty of lead over the landscape (something I pretend doesn’t bother me, but it does, although obviously not enough to cause me to do anything about it, yet). But nothing fell except the shells. A change from the previous several outings. No worries, though. I really don’t mind getting skunked, aside from letting down the dogs.
Peat’s hole
I do mind, though, getting back to the truck and seeing my dogs with gaping wounds on their bodies. Actually, I only noticed Angus’s “hole” in his side (we found Peat’s hole later that night). I’m not sure what caused these wounds, but it’s Angus’s second 20+ stitch job in the last month. The first was stray barbed wire laying on the ground along fencing, which is more common than I’d expect. The second, last week, was either barbed wire again or some pretty stout bitterbrush branches that had been broken and turned into spears, probably by cattle. I’ve run into skewers on bitterbrush plants, and have a scar on my thigh from it puncturing my Cordura nylon upland pants.
Nightshirts to keep mutts from licking wounds until we can get them to the vet
Almost all the terrain we hunt is “multi-use” public land, which means we share it with cattle grazing operations. Except for a few remote areas in Hells Canyon, cows have trod most of the chukar terrain I’ve hunted anywhere. Rarely have I simultaneously shared bird habitat with cows, which might just be coincidental but it’s just worked out that way. I keep the dogs away from them, and don’t shoot too near them. And I’m not blaming cows or grazing for my dogs’ injuries; I understand the dynamic here. And I’ve never worked fence so I’m not faulting anyone for leaving barbed wire on the ground (although I have a friend who has lots of unkind words about this, since his dog has been to the vet many times from lacerations caused by stray wire). Anyway, we’re out of the chukar game for a couple weeks until the dogs heal and Angus gets his stitches out.
Angus doesn’t love the vest. Tough.
Angus reflecting…
I’m sure others have experienced run-ins with wire and brush injuries, so I’m curious to hear if any readers have special monitoring strategies to keep their dogs out of harm’s way. For me, at this point in the season (now that it’s colder), both dogs will be wearing nylon vests protecting their chests and flanks. I just got Peat his own; a $40 vest is a lot cheaper than 20 stitches (we’re up to almost $500 this season on stitches for Angus). Hopefully the vests will prevent another incident this season. But when it’s hot, in the early season, vests aren’t an option, so I’d love to hear others’ thoughts on “protection” during the early part of the season.
I guess I should feel lucky I don’t use dogs to hunt bears or mountain lions: while the vet was working on Angus he told us about some of the hounds he sees that have tangled with bears. One dog has a couple steel plates in its arm from a bear biting clean through it. My only worry about that level of injury is with some of the bigger traps out there (which we’ve been seeing more of in Hells Canyon the last couple of years).
