I learned yesterday about a chukar hunter in the area who hunts nearly every day (from what I’m told) with numerous dogs and often with many other people, and apparently almost always limits. According to a trustworthy source, he and five friends killed 96 chukar over opening weekend. There’s nothing illegal about this (although I do wonder how he gets around the possession limit). But it bothers me, so I thought I’d ask what others think about this.
For me, just because something’s legal doesn’t mean it’s ethical if taken to the extreme. Someone who doesn’t know me might read this and conclude I’m spewing sour grapes here. Honestly, I like cleaning birds even less than I like killing them, but I do both as part of the deal. I certainly wouldn’t want to clean 10 times more than I already do. In other words, I’m fine with my bag stats.
The Kid and I set out to bag his first chukar. This is the fourth season he’s come along. He has never complained. He’s always been right there. If I ask his opinion on route options, he’s always up for even the hardest one. And when the hunt’s over and our bags are empty there’s not a shred of disappointment in his aspect, while I try my best to hide mine. I joke with him and his folks and grandparents about my being the World’s Worst Chukar Guide, and I actually get a little more nervous each time I bring him back without a bird. It’s starting to become less amusing. At least to me. He still says he wants to keep trying, and I’m grateful for that.
Sidehilling Splendor
On opening day we hiked 7.5 miles and climbed 2100′, my longest hunt ever. The dogs got birdy a few times and actually pointed twice. But the wind was fierce and the points were off. Near the end of the hike, down near the creek, the dogs ran into and scattered the biggest super-covey I’ve seen. We got to watch, from a slightly sad distance, nearly a hundred chukar run and scatter up a long scree slope. Despite bumping them a couple more times, separated by brush far too dense to traverse, we never got another chance. As I drove the curvy road home, while he ate his peanut butter sandwich (which might have contained Cheetos), he said he’d get one the next time. I’ve gotten to know this fairly quiet kid fairly well by now; he doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean.
He couldn’t come with me the next day, which – history will tell us – means I’ll be in some chukar. We saw plenty, and had a few good points and got a few birds. Don’t say “jinx.” It’s not funny anymore. I’m trying not to have this complex, and don’t want him to develop one (unlikely), but it’s going beyond whatever. You know?
Anyway, we had a typically hot and – atypically – humid second day. We took the boat and went to a favorite spot which, we learned – not too surprisingly – soon after disembarking that several folks had been there earlier that morning and probably the day before as well. But I’d always found birds there so we moseyed along, albeit with slightly lowered expectations.
For once, though, my guess or reasoning or instincts or whatever you want to call it was right and the birds (at least the ones we found) were quite close to the water. Angus was well above me, though, accompanying my friend and Leslie, and busted a decent covey which I only saw as they sailed past me, several in range. Lucky. They could have gone anywhere. I hit one. Peat scurried to it, and brought it right back, no questions asked. Last year, he ate the first six chukar he got close to. Lucky again.
A while later, both dogs pointed solidly at the edge of a cliff near the water. I managed a double, but Angus could only find one bird. The second was a long shot and, although I couldn’t see where it landed, I thought it might have made it to the water even though it was a ways away. We looked and looked with both dogs. Peat suddenly headed straight down a steep rocky slope to the water. I thought he would find the bird, but he kept on going, swimming straight out into the wide river, leaving a trail of broken surface algae blooms in his wake. Yes, it was hot. After a good 20 or 30 minutes we gave up looking.
The little white speck heading out to sea is Peat.
Back at the boat, we decided to cruise past the cliffs to see if the second bird had made it to the water. More luck: we spied it on its back on a ledge of the cliff just above the water. Wanting to spare the tired dogs, and me, some effort, Cam generously made the retrieve, demonstrating his rock-climbing prowess. After his unprecedented retrieve we discovered that Angus had taken advantage of our collective distraction and eaten Cam’s roast beef sandwich on Oat Nut bread (his favorite).
Maybe Angus should have eaten the wrapper, too.
So my dogs and I, and our mutual friends, survived a long opening weekend in great form, and we’re eager to head back out in a few days.
Oh, and a warning: we saw two big rattlesnakes. Look into the rattlesnake shot you can get your dogs, and make sure you carry Benadryl and plenty of water in case of a bite. Luckily, Angus and Peat missed both reptiles, but it makes you think.
Tomorrow we begin again. This off-season has seemed longer than others for some reason. Maybe I can blame it on Peat, who continues to exemplify quintessential puppy-hood mischief by stealing and bolting with whatever he can get his chompers on, causing me to embed in my brain what is probably the worst movie theme song of all time (“To Catch a Thief“).
Or maybe I’m getting younger and time is passing more slowly.
Nah.
Or maybe it’s the fact that I’ve been finding chukar in unexpected numbers and in unexpected places.
In any case, I’ll try to figure out something to do to make today pass faster, and try not to get my hopes too high for tomorrow.
But we’re ready. Are you?
This is what good bird dogs are reduced to during the off-season
Yeah, so here we are again. Time flew but it seemed like a long wait, anyway. Looked for grouse, and found some, in the second spot we tried. The first spot was too high and dry to hold the forest chickens, and – after a rough initial hike tripping up through some awful Medusa-head-covered mini-boulders, serenaded by mini-twirps ripping around on souped-up ATVs at a campsite below me – I remembered that the only time I’d seen grouse in this spot was in the winter. D’oh! Still, Angus found a covey of Hungarian partridge in the high grass on the ridge top, and Peat displayed what’s now become his trademark honoring of Angus – just a beautiful thing to behold, especially from such a live-wire of a dog.
Peat backing Angus
So we drove down the canyon to a creek I knew had water and, probably, grouse. Within 5 minutes the dogs busted an impressive flock of wild turkeys which must have boggled Peat’s tiny mind because their awkward aviating boggled my tiny mind, especially when they landed at the tops of spindly trees. 15 more minutes and I’d shot two ruffed grouse. Surely I could limit out in another half-hour. But two hours later it was still the deuce. Then a rock-solid point by Peat along the creek, backed nicely (and unusually) by Angus: I crept up and readied. Both dogs posed at the edge of a small cliff above the creek, and looked straight down at the water. Losing patience but not wanting (thankfully) to jump, Angus found a way down to the water, triggering a spectacular burst of birds that initially appeared to be the biggest covey of grouse I’d ever witnessed but – when my tiny, slow brain caught up with the spectacle – registered as chukar. Numerous waves of chukar, whose mid-day thirst-slaking Angus interrupted, departed, numbering in the several-dozen. I’d hiked up this creek many times before, but had never seen these birds in the water. Predictions for a good chukar season appear accurate.
A few minutes later, another sizeable covey flew past us higher up the hill. Then Angus busted a big ruffed grouse and I managed to drop it in the dense foliage along the creek. I wondered if either dog saw it fall. A few seconds later, Peat burst up onto the trail with the large bird and brought it right to me. Good dog, happy man.
When I got back I was tired. I checked my GPS and found I’d hiked a mile more than my longest hunt last year. And for grouse. Don’t get me wrong: I’m very grateful for these delicious birds. But eagerness can lead to over-indulgence. All three of us are sore today. And I’m grateful to feel the slight remorse after a successful hunt, which I noticed was missing as I drove home yesterday. It made me slightly sad to think I’d become desensitized. If that does happen, I’ll have to think about putting away the gun. I hope not, at least for a while. After all, these dogs would never forgive me, and I’d miss that thing you only get when hunting.
“I can’t wait for chukar hunting season,” Bob said just yesterday. We have just over 6 months now. We need time to recover.
These are some snapshots of the 2015/2016 season mostly from down in the Hells Canyon National Recreation Area and a few at the Cecil Andrus Wildlife Management Area. We feel blessed to live in a state where we can access lots of quality, picturesque public lands for hunting and other recreation. We hope it stays this way. If you’re a chukar hunter, you’re well aware of the fact that some very misguided (or worse) folks are trying to have our federal public lands transferred to state control out west, which could very likely be the end of hunting, or any kind of use, for the common man and woman (not to mention the fact that many state constitutions – including Idaho’s – specifically disavow any future claim on federally owned land). As Americans and joint owners of this public land, this is the greatest legacy we can leave future generations. You can’t put a price tag on that.
