Not just for the birds

Tag: chukar country

  • Real

    Real

    About 24 years ago I caught a few steelhead on the 6-weight fly rod my brother had made me years before. He was fishing with me, showing me what to do, wading in shallow, clear water of the Columbia River near Richland, Washington. Seams. Green Butt Skunks. The fish were incredibly big and strong.

    The next spring I moved from what I’d always thought would be my forever home of the San Francisco Bay Area to Boise, Idaho, where I didn’t know anyone and didn’t have a job. Those fish were the catalysts for the gyrational push and pull that sent me north. Aside from a recent two-year diversion, I’ve been an Idahoan since.

    Looking back, I might say the move was adventurous, but somehow — in the moment — adventure never registered. Fear, for sure. Excitement, too, and a little loneliness. Part of the plan was to get my first dog and figure out how to hunt birds with it, another thing my brother introduced me to. After I screwed up the first dog, limiting my time chasing birds with her, I got a do-over with my second dog, Angus, who was the catalyst for this blog, which in a way has been the most stable thing I’ve ever had.

    And so it goes. We’re at the beginning of a new season. Oregon hasn’t even opened yet. While knowing I’m in the worst shape since beginning to hunt chukar 23 years ago I’m grateful to be able to get out, and the hills don’t scare me. That hasn’t changed despite the degradation of muscle mass. Until we started climbing, I thought I’d fear gravity but it’s almost the opposite. Life is full of surprises: I’m still excited. I’m glad to say that.

    Another surprise, which I’ve deliberated on for a while now about sharing here, is what I’ve started doing in my “spare time.” I’ve decided to try being a realtor, and am both scared and excited about it. I’m sharing this here as a brazen advertisement of my services, and will only say that if you’ve ever thought of moving closer to chukar country I’d like the chance to help you find the right place. I’ll be the first to say that Idaho is a weird state, but it has a lot to offer if you like public land. Anyway, I’m working with the biggest broker in Idaho (Silvercreek Realty), and have started Chukar Hills Realty as my business. If you’re interested in seeing what’s out there, you can search property on my website: robertmcmichael.silvercreekrealty.com. If you click on the link, it’ll ask you to set up an account, but that’s only so I’ll get the lead. You might get some spam, but you can always unsubscribe. So there it is, and that’s all I’ll say about this here. Thanks.

  • Chukar Spaces

    Chukar Spaces

    Chukar spaces

    It’s rare in life to be embraced warmly by the unexpected, or at least in my life it’s been rare. Now that we’re “old people,” I think I’m more attuned to the expectation that things shouldn’t change very dramatically, but this seems dramatic somehow. It’s not so much that I’m thrilled my wife is hunting, but more that she’s not stopping at wonder. Or maybe it’s that she’s reconnecting with the curiosity that tends to get drubbed out of us the older we get, starting back in middle school. So to me in a sense it’s uncanny what she’s doing. I like uncanny.

    Our first three weekends of chukar season have been excellent in many ways. We’ve hunted lots of new ground, found more birds than expected, had great weather, enjoyed textbook dog work (with a couple excusable exceptions), bagged a lot of birds, and welcomed a new hunter into our family. I guess the reason I haven’t written much yet about this season is that I’ve just been enjoying it.

    Leslie and her gun (and Eberlestock Mini-Me pack)

    Ruminating on Leslie taking up the gun (and losing the video) has been the biggest change for me this season. It’s wholly positive, and the thought process goes something like this: I can’t believe my wife, at 55 years of age, who worries about cows and feral cats being cold in the winter, has taken up the gun, and has killed some birds, and is more motivated each time we head out.

    Rendezvous
    Space for togetherness and wind

    Our last two hunts together remind me of Khalil Gibran’s oft-quoted wish (usually at weddings), “Let there be spaces in your togetherness, And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.” It’s interesting to think about this, since yesterday was the 15th anniversary of the date I proposed to her, and it was on a mountain-top in Idaho, not far from where we hunted. Anyway, we had split up early in the hunt, she taking Angus and Peat accompanying me. She’s got a decade of following me with a camera rather than following a dog with a gun, so she’s learning the difference. After the hunts, she fills me in on the action she had, describing her spaces and how the dancing winds from the heavens shaped her experience. The places we’ve hunted have been blessed with more chukar than I expected, and Angus still has it, so she’s had a good number of opportunities on solid points from the old warrior. She hasn’t connected yet, but I’m sure it’ll happen soon.

    Peat’s been stellar

    For me, I’m enjoying the action, and being able to hunt with Peat while Leslie’s off with Angus. While his nose is terrific, it’s not as dialed in yet as I’m sure it will get. He’s muddled a few coveys he should have smelled and pointed, but he’s also nailed some classic, thrilling points. My shooting still hasn’t improved much, but seems to be getting better; I’ve never practiced nearly as much as I have this year, mostly thanks to Leslie wanting to work on her shooting. She outshot me at trap last weekend.

    As for the video, I miss making them and having the footage to work with. I’m not sure what to do about that. Once Leslie starts nailing the birds, I might leave my gun at home occasionally. Who knows. Maybe if I was to sell all my Chukar Culture hats and t-shirts I could hire a videographer to come along. Ha ha.