Tag: bird season

  • Coming

    Coming

    Chill and yellow

    “On longer evenings
    Light, chill and yellow,
    Bathes the serene
    Foreheads of houses.” — Philip Larkin, “Coming” (excerpt)

    Lots of things coming. Coming up. Coming soon. Coming back. Coming too soon or too late. Just coming. Some things unexpected, like Peat yesterday triumphantly coming to us with a Canada goose egg in his mouth. He delivered it to me, the gorgeous large warm beige shelled pre-bird and I managed to return it to its future siblings in the nest while mom screamed in the river; with all the rain and the nest just at the edge of the water in the willows I wonder if it was, or will be, all in vain. I spent some night currency wondering if geese can move a nest filled with eggs.

    Egg return

    Speaking of birds (how odd), a new season is coming, and lots of grass is coming up and this gets many of us excited about big broods of chukar chicks to come. This often happens to us about this time of year, and sometimes it’s warranted or reasonable or logical, and other times it’s just stupidity talking. Or hope. “Hope is the thing with feathers,” as Emily said.

    Other things will come between now and the season, which is like having that autumnal hope in the bank, sitting there acquiring interest faster than Jeff Bezos’s new ex-wife’s new savings account. For us, the thing between is summer and fishing, this time with our first drift boat, a nod to latent insanity and, ostensibly, our dogs: they can come with (even though they’re mildly pissed off about being confined to the floating thing), which — in the past — they couldn’t, so this should be interesting.

    Angus doesn’t want to be left behind again

    More rain is freaking coming, too. The hope is that the earth in Hells Canyon won’t be talcum in late September, as it was last year.

    Something’s coming from Leslie; yesterday she shared her second bombshell of the week with me (the first being her wonderful post and video): she’ll soon have me put some of her chukar-inspired creations on the blog’s store. I’ll let her let that cat out of that bag, though. Sometimes I know what’s good for me.

    I’m contemplating getting some new hats, too, but not sure if anyone’s interested in that. We’ve got some left, but don’t push them. It’s coming to that.

  • Shakes

    Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,

    Creeps in this petty pace from day to day…

    — William Shakespeare, Macbeth

    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?

    peatonangus
    This is what good bird dogs are reduced to during the off-season